This time, as always, Takayuki insisted that the new console must be fully compatible with older games before moving forward with its development.
General-purpose compatibility can be very convenient, but it also comes at a cost—sometimes quite literally.
Previously, Gamestar Entertainment could take advantage of smaller chip manufacturers and get good deals.
But now, the chip industry has become highly centralized. Only a few companies can supply the required components, leaving far fewer options.
Still, this also had its benefits—namely, better quality assurance for the chips.
The downside was, of course, the higher cost.
And insisting on backward compatibility with older game architectures only increased those costs further.
Chip manufacturers had tried multiple times to persuade Gamestar Entertainment to abandon this approach. After all, these old games had dwindling audiences—why go to such lengths for so few?
...
...
But Takayuki didn't budge.
He remained firm in his stance: the new console must support backward compatibility.
No amount of persuasion could change his mind.
You could say this was Takayuki's personal obsession.
From a purely business standpoint, there was really no need to do this anymore.
But Takayuki had ambitions beyond business success. He wasn't desperate for profit.
Even if he went bankrupt, he'd just move back in with his parents if he had to. But his vision? That could never be compromised.
When Airi Hayasawa and others tried to convince him otherwise, Takayuki firmly shook his head.
"That's non-negotiable. I want to keep supporting old players—so they can always play their favorite classics on the latest hardware."
Seeing how determined he was, everyone else finally stopped pushing.
There was no point in arguing any further.
"So, Takayuki—what do you think of the console in its current state?"
After testing it for a while, Takayuki nodded.
"It's really solid. The system runs smoothly. Let's go ahead and begin production."
With Takayuki's final word, everyone around him let out a small sigh of relief.
Yes, the price was a bit steep.
But truthfully, the entire development team—Airi included—really liked this new console.
Because it allowed for more advanced, visually stunning games than ever before.
This time, it could truly be called a "next-gen" console—at least by the standards of this world.
It was like jumping from the PS2 era straight into PS4-level visuals.
The kind of leap that would leave players in awe.
Putting down the controller, Takayuki said:
"Distribute a few dev kits to our in-house game development teams. They need to get started. The console price is admittedly high, but I'm not going into this unprepared. Players might complain about the price—but they won't complain if the games are good enough."
He smiled confidently.
A console is just a vessel. No matter how expensive it is, there's a limit.
In his past life, both Microsoft and Sony had experienced poor console sales due to high launch prices.
Pricing was certainly one factor—but another, equally important reason was that they failed to deliver games that matched the increased cost.
If I'm paying more, but getting the same experience as I would on a cheaper competitor, then why should I choose you?
Just for a handful of exclusives? Sorry, die-hard fans aside, most players simply follow the fun.
With the console finalized, the development kits were distributed to several internal game teams.
This time, Takayuki was going all out to convince players that this high-priced console was worth it.
He wanted to show the world what "next-gen" really meant—through the lens of his own time.
First up: Super Mario Galaxy.
A masterpiece-level game, integrating motion controls for a gameplay experience unlike anything before it.
But one great game wasn't enough.
A sequel to Mario Kart was also in the works. The franchise had built a solid fanbase by now, even surpassing Need for Speed in popularity.
Mario Kart had a unique advantage too—it didn't require licensing real-world car brands. In fact, some manufacturers were offering to give their car models to Gamestar Entertainment for free promotion.
Takayuki turned them all down.
"Keep reality out of this cartoonish, fun-focused series. That's Mario's identity."
Then came the Dragon Quest sequel.
Even Metroid, which had been dormant for three or four years, was getting a new installment. Same with Castlevania, an HD remake of Ocarina of Time, and sequels for Super Soccer Championship and NBA Basketball.
So many top-tier titles meant the dev teams would be under a lot of pressure—but Takayuki was giving them plenty of time.
They'd have around a year and a half for development.
For AAA titles, that might seem tight. But with Takayuki's knowledge from the future, development paths would be clear from day one—no wasted effort, no trial and error.
This alone would boost efficiency by at least 30%.
So he wasn't particularly worried.
With the console finalized, the next step was to begin marketing—and this was Matsuhashi's domain.
Not long after the console was greenlit, Gamestar Entertainment began releasing new ads on various platforms.
The headline read:
"Welcome the true next generation! Gamestar Entertainment will unveil its newest product at the 2005 International Consumer Electronics Show. Stay tuned."
There was nothing else in the ad—just that sentence.
But it was more than enough to set the internet on fire.
Players could already guess what it meant: the new console.
After all, the GS1 had been out for many years now—it was the longest-running generation yet.
There had long been whispers about a successor.
But one hit title after another had kept those rumors at bay.
Now, with official confirmation, players could no longer sit still.