After Zaboru's post, the gaming community went wild. His cryptic message hinted at something deeper—a hidden challenge with no associated trophy for Pepsi-man, suggesting an incredibly well-hidden secret. Speculation exploded across the ZAGE forums, with players debating whether it was even possible to finish the game without collecting any Pepsi cans.
Within just a few hours, attempts flooded in. Many players reported how difficult it was to avoid every single can, considering they were often placed directly in the player's path. Some questioned if it was even feasible without a perfect run.
Then, just one day after the post, the unthinkable happened—someone did it. A few dedicated players successfully cleared all the normal Pepsi-man stages without grabbing a single can. Their reward? A brand-new hidden stage, previously unknown to the community: the elusive Hoca-Cora stages.
The stages are absolutely brutal—like racing through a flaming version of hell itself. The entire environment is bathed in intense reds and oranges, with rivers of fire, crumbling roads, collapsing platforms, and lava geysers erupting without warning. And right in the middle of it all, Pepsi-man is pitted against Hoca-Cora, a mysterious character who looks eerily similar to Pepsi-man but with striking red-and-white engravings. It didn't take long for players to realize—it was a clear reference to Pepsi's long-time rival, Coca-Cola.
The race against Hoca-Cora is unlike anything in the game so far. The layout is constantly shifting, with flame traps, spinning fire wheels, and collapsing bridges. Hoca-Cora is fast—unbelievably fast. But more than that, he breaks the rules. He doesn't just run. He teleports, multiplies himself into shadow clones, and even starts flying through parts of the level, completely ignoring terrain.
But there's a twist. Occasionally, Hoca-Cora runs low on fuel and is forced to stop and recharge by drinking a can of Hoca-Cora. That moment gives players the tiniest opportunity to catch up—if they're fast enough. These brief windows of advantage are the only chance Pepsi-man has to keep pace.
The stage is chaotic, disorienting, and requires perfect reflexes. One wrong step and you're sent back to the start. But for many players, it's the ultimate showdown—brand versus brand, red versus blue, flame versus fizz. And beating it isn't just about reflexes—it's about surviving the madness.
As soon as the first players began describing their experience with the Hoca-Cora stages, curiosity exploded across the community. Screenshots, vague descriptions, and cryptic hints flooded the forums, igniting a wave of excitement. Players were stunned by the bizarre mechanics, the fiery visuals, and the mysterious rival. Many couldn't believe such a level existed, and now that it was confirmed, they were determined to reach it themselves—no matter how difficult the requirements. The race to unlock Hoca-Cora was officially on, and the challenge had just become a community-wide obsession.
Meanwhile, at Pepsi headquarters, CEO Roger Enrico was in a fantastic mood. Sitting in his corner office, he looked over the latest sales reports and grinned from ear to ear. Allowing ZAGE to use Pepsi branding in Pepsi-man without pushing for a more aggressive licensing deal had turned out to be one of the best marketing decisions he'd ever made. Pepsi sales had skyrocketed across key demographics, especially among teens and young adults. The margins were up, the brand visibility was off the charts, and most importantly—it all came from a simple, low-maintenance partnership.
He leaned back in his chair and chuckled to himself. "If we had pushed ZAGE too hard—or if they'd gone to Coca-Cola instead—this could've been a PR disaster," he thought. "But now? We're the face of the coolest game on the hottest console."
There was also a more personal win: his son was completely obsessed with Pepsi-man. The kid played it nonstop and had never been more cheerful. Every time Roger saw him laughing at the screen, talking about dodging vending machines and unlocking secret levels, it reminded him that brand loyalty starts young—and grows deep.
All things considered, letting ZAGE use the Pepsi brand for a one-time licensing fee had paid off far beyond expectations. Roger Enrico had trusted his gut—and it was delivered in full.
Meanwhile, it was Thursday, 18 May 1997, and Zaboru was once again at his desk, casually scrolling through the ZAGE forums. His eyes flicked across the discussion threads, and a familiar smirk crept across his face.
"Heh, so they finally found it," he said to himself. "Took them long enough."
But the grin quickly shifted to a half-sigh as he clicked into one of the posts.
"Still no ability to post proper screenshots or videos... what a shame." He was really disappointed but there is nothing he can do for now.
The forum was buzzing with activity. Players were excitedly uploading blurry, low-res photos taken with handheld cameras aimed at CRT televisions. The colors were washed out, and the screen glare made details nearly impossible to read. But it didn't matter—the energy was electric. The community was alive, and that excitement alone was worth the grainy mess.
Zaboru leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head, deep in thought.
"If only the tech could keep up. The next console absolutely needs native screenshot and video capture features. It should be integrated with the ZAGE forums. Players should be able to share moments in seconds."
He glanced over at a tech roadmap pinned on his office wall which showed an August 1997 Windows XP release.
"Windows XP already exists in this timeline... in 1997. That's not supposed to happen. So why hasn't the internet taken the same leap forward?"
He sighed again. It was frustrating—seeing the potential, feeling the momentum, but knowing the world wasn't quite ready. The infrastructure just wasn't there. Speeds were slow, connections unstable. It wasn't enough to support the kind of vision he had for a connected gaming ecosystem.
But when that spike in internet speed came—and Zaboru believed it would—he'd be ready.
Zaboru leaned back further, folding his arms and staring up at the ceiling with a thoughtful grin. "Well… if high-speed internet was already the norm," he muttered, "there's so much I could launch. So many doors would open."
He chuckled to himself, imagining an alternate future within reach. YouTube, Google, Twitch, Twitter, Facebook… even things like video-on-demand, online marketplaces, and content-sharing hubs danced through his mind. Each concept appeared not as fantasy, but as untapped opportunities.
With the right infrastructure, Zaboru believed he could introduce all of them years before their time. "Streaming platforms, search engines, content hubs, real-time chat—hell, even digital storefronts," he whispered.
The more he considered it, the more it excited him. It wasn't just about bringing those innovations early—it was about shaping how people interacted with games, content, and each other. If the tech caught up, he wouldn't just ride the wave—he'd become the one to start it.
"Aside from the internet... hmm," Zaboru muttered as he leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "Should I create a special ZAGE division focused entirely on sports teams?" He tapped his pen against his notepad, the idea beginning to unfold.
"We're already sponsoring Inter Milan," he continued, "and that's done wonders for brand visibility in Europe. But what if we took that further?" He jotted down a few notes. "Basketball could be the next step—maybe a deal with an NBA team. F1, baseball, even local leagues could be part of it."
Then his thoughts pivoted again. "And what about eSports? That's going to explode eventually—I can feel it. Maybe not now, but it's coming. Organized teams, international tournaments, live broadcasts, shoutcasters, sponsorships... there's a whole world to build around competitive gaming. If ZAGE steps in early, we don't just support the scene—we define it."
He chuckled to himself, overwhelmed but excited. His desk was already cluttered with papers and ideas, yet this one stood out. It felt important.
"Well, I'll bring this up to the others," he said with a satisfied nod. "Let's see what they think."
It was clear—Zaboru was busy but in a good way.
Zaboru jotted the ideas down, then paused as another thought struck him. "What about a ZAGE music agency?" he mused. "Japan, China, Korea—there's so much untapped talent in the idol scene. We could give them a platform to shine. And bands too—there are artists out there just waiting for a push. Plus, I've got dozens of songs stored away from my previous life... it's all just sitting there."
He laughed softly, shaking his head. "But that's for later. I've already drifted too far from video games today." Still chuckling, he tucked the idea away for the future, knowing it could resurface at the right time.
For now, he turned his focus back to work, eyes scanning design notes and games updates. The next two days ahead were packed, and next Saturday marked something special: the launch of Dance Dance Revolution 2, a project from ZAGE USA's Enigma team. Zaboru couldn't wait to see how players would respond.
To be continue
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