Zaboru placed Super Mario Sunshine beside the other completed Blue-Ray cases and immediately reached for the next one. The moment he saw the cover, his grin widened. A bright orange customized sports car dominated the artwork, tearing through a city street in the middle of the night while neon signs, streetlights, and reflections stretched across the wet asphalt behind it. Other modified cars followed closely, their headlights cutting through the darkness, while the title sat boldly across the front.
NEED FOR SPEED: UNDERGROUND.
Zaboru chuckled. "Hehehe… alright. Time for some illegal street racing."
ZAGE already possessed an enormous racing franchise through Gran Turismo, but that was precisely why Zaboru wanted Need for Speed to be completely different. Gran Turismo had increasingly established itself as ZAGE's serious automotive title—the kind of game where manufacturers, professional drivers, and car enthusiasts could obsess over handling characteristics, suspension settings, braking distances, tire behavior, gear ratios, and carefully recreated real-world vehicles. It was effectively ZAGE's official car simulator, a celebration of automobiles as machines.
Need for Speed did not need to compete with that.
It needed attitude.
Underground was not about politely entering sanctioned racing events on professional circuits while discussing tire compounds. It was about driving through a city at two in the morning with a ridiculous body kit, glowing neon beneath the car, music blasting through the speakers, and another driver beside you who clearly believed traffic laws were merely suggestions.
That distinction was exactly what Zaboru wanted.
The game centered heavily around underground street-racing culture. Players started with relatively ordinary performance cars and gradually transformed them through victories, money, reputation, and modifications. New engines, exhaust systems, suspension, tires, transmissions, turbochargers, nitrous systems, and other performance upgrades improved the machine underneath, while an enormous selection of visual customization allowed players to create something that actually felt like their car.
Body kits.
Spoilers.
Hoods.
Rims.
Paint.
Vinyls.
Window tint.
Decals.
Neon lighting.
Exhaust tips.
Even small cosmetic details that contributed absolutely nothing to performance but somehow became the thing players spent twenty minutes choosing.
Zaboru smiled. That was part of the appeal. Gran Turismo invited players to appreciate cars. Underground invited them to create a car they wanted everyone else to notice.
ZEPS 4 hardware also happened to be extremely well suited to racing games. Unlike a huge open-world adventure where the player could suddenly turn toward almost anything, a racing game controlled where most of the player's attention went. The car itself needed enormous detail because it remained directly in front of the player for nearly the entire experience, while the environment could selectively concentrate detail along the racing route. Buildings farther from the road did not require the same complexity as the vehicle. Crowds did not need the same fidelity as Dante's character model. That allowed the developers to pour resources into reflections, vehicle surfaces, lighting, rain, sparks, tire smoke, motion blur, and the sensation of speed without sacrificing smooth performance.
And Underground took advantage of that aggressively.
Cars looked almost absurdly detailed for a console released in 2002. Metallic paint reflected streetlights as the vehicle passed underneath them. Wet roads caught the glow of advertisements and headlights. Brake discs briefly heated during aggressive driving. Sparks erupted when a car scraped against barriers. Nitrous produced a violent surge of acceleration accompanied by a visual distortion that made the entire city seem to stretch backward.
More importantly, the game had to remain smooth.
Racing games depended heavily on responsiveness. A beautiful car meant nothing if steering felt delayed or the frame rate collapsed whenever several racers crowded together.
Zaboru had made that requirement clear from the beginning.
Make it gorgeous, but never at the cost of making it feel slow.
The result was exactly the kind of visual showcase ZEPS 4 needed.
Circuit races tested conventional consistency. Sprint events threw players through point-to-point routes. Drag races emphasized gear timing, traffic avoidance, and raw acceleration, while Drift events transformed corners into opportunities to deliberately lose traction and maintain controlled slides for increasingly ridiculous scores.
Zaboru particularly liked the progression system. Winning did not merely increase some abstract career level. The player earned money, unlocked parts, improved their vehicle, purchased entirely new cars, and gradually gained reputation inside the underground racing scene. Every victory contributed toward a garage that visibly changed over time.
And unlike a fictional-car racing game, ZAGE did not need to struggle excessively with vehicle variety.
Years of Gran Turismo development had already established licensing relationships with automobile manufacturers across Japan, America, and Europe. ZAGE already worked with companies producing sports cars, compact performance vehicles, luxury cars, and increasingly exotic machines. Many manufacturers that might have hesitated to participate in an unknown street-racing game were considerably more willing to listen when the proposal came from the same company responsible for Gran Turismo.
That gave Need for Speed: Underground a substantial licensed vehicle roster from the beginning.
Zaboru turned the Blue-Ray case over, studying several screenshots showing heavily customized cars racing beneath neon lights, before laughing quietly. "This is going to make people spend more time customizing their car than actually racing."
He paused.
Then another thought entered his head.
"Let's just hope this doesn't increase actual illegal street racing."
Zaboru stared at the cover for another second.
"…It probably will."
He decided not to think too deeply about that and carefully placed Need for Speed beside the other launch titles.
Then he reached toward another case.
The moment he saw the artwork, his expression changed.
A familiar figure stood on the cover.
Zaboru slowly grinned.
"Kept you waiting, huh?"
METAL GEAR SOLID 2: SONS OF LIBERTY.
He chuckled as he lifted the game.
Hideo Kojima had thrown himself into this project with extraordinary enthusiasm. That amused Zaboru for reasons nobody else could possibly understand. In his previous world, Metal Gear had been Kojima's creation. Here, however, the original concept had come from Zaboru himself before being entrusted to Kojima and his development group. Zaboru had supplied the foundation, the characters, major storyline concepts, and the direction the series could follow, but Kojima had gradually made the project increasingly his own through cinematography, pacing, dialogue presentation, mechanical detail, and the strange mixture of seriousness and absurdity that somehow fit Metal Gear perfectly.
Zaboru had no problem with that.
Quite the opposite.
One of his favorite things about ZAGE was giving talented people an idea and then watching them discover things he had never considered.
MGS2 was particularly valuable as a ZEPS 4 launch game because it demonstrated almost everything the hardware could do differently from the previous generation without needing constant explosions.
This was stealth.
Atmosphere.
Artificial intelligence.
Lighting.
Animation.
Physics.
Cinematic presentation.
Dense environmental interaction.
ZEPS 4's version had received an enormous visual upgrade. Zaboru had deliberately asked the team to preserve the colder blue-green visual palette and industrial atmosphere associated with Metal Gear Solid 2, but the actual rendering quality moved much closer to what he remembered from Metal Gear Solid 4 in his previous life. Character models carried far more facial detail. Fabric reacted naturally during movement. Rain rolled across surfaces and characters. Wet flooring reflected light. Smoke interacted more convincingly with rooms. Weapon models were dramatically sharper, while cutscenes could transition into gameplay with far less visual separation.
The enemy AI was arguably even more important.
Guards did not simply walk predetermined routes until Snake disappeared behind a wall.
They communicated.
If one guard failed to report, another might investigate. Enemies noticed open doors, unusual sounds, footprints, discarded equipment, unconscious allies, and other signs that something was wrong. Reinforcement units coordinated their movement instead of charging through the same doorway one after another like idiots politely volunteering to be knocked unconscious.
Players could shoot radios.
Distract soldiers.
Hold enemies at gunpoint.
Hide bodies.
Break lights.
Use environmental objects.
Slip through areas without killing anyone at all.
Zaboru had always loved that freedom.
Metal Gear Solid was a game where violence was available, often extremely effective, and yet the best solution was frequently to avoid the fight entirely.
It also provided an almost perfect demonstration of ZEPS 4's cinematic capabilities. Kojima could indulge himself with long conversations, elaborate camera movements, environmental storytelling, military machinery, and character animation while still maintaining the gameplay underneath.
But there was another reason MGS2 mattered.
Zaboru's eyes settled on another figure appearing on the back of the case.
Blond white hair.
A younger face.
A completely different protagonist.
Raiden.
Zaboru's grin slowly became mischievous.
"Oh, you're going to be very important."
Players would begin the game expecting Snake.
They would get Snake.
For a while.
And then Kojima would pull the rug out from underneath them.
Raiden would become the central playable character through much of the game, a decision Zaboru already expected to become controversial. Some players would absolutely hate it. Some would demand Snake back immediately. Some would probably spend years complaining about Raiden.
Zaboru did not care.
Because he knew something they didn't.
Raiden had a future.
A very interesting future.
Something involving a sword.
Cyborg technology.
Extremely fast combat.
And perhaps two particular words.
Rising.
Revengeance.
Zaboru chuckled and shook his head. "Later."
He placed Metal Gear Solid 2 down.
The next game changed the mood completely.
Four familiar green figures dominated the cover, each carrying their signature weapons.
Leonardo.
Raphael.
Donatello.
Michelangelo.
Zaboru smiled immediately. "Well, time for TMNT to make a comeback."
TEENAGE MUTANT NINJA TURTLES.
In his previous life, Zaboru remembered playing several TMNT games during the PlayStation 2 era, and one thing had always seemed obvious to him: the franchise was practically designed for cooperative action.
Four turtles.
Four different weapons.
A ridiculous number of enemies.
Colorful stages.
Boss fights.
Fast movement.
Cooperative chaos.
There was no reason to overcomplicate it.
The ZEPS 4 game was built primarily as a fast-paced 3D beat-'em-up with platforming elements. Leonardo's twin swords emphasized balanced melee combat. Raphael fought more aggressively with his sais. Donatello's bo staff offered excellent reach and crowd control, while Michelangelo's nunchaku provided speed and flexible combo chains.
Each turtle felt different without becoming so specialized that a child could accidentally choose the "wrong" character.
Movement had been heavily improved as well. The turtles could leap between platforms, run along walls in limited sections, grind across rails and pipes, swing from environmental objects, and chain traversal directly into combat. Zaboru wanted the game constantly moving.
The most important feature, however, was multiplayer.
Local cooperative play allowed several players to fight together on the same machine, while ZAGE Network expanded that into online cooperative sessions. Players could enter stages together, revive one another, combine certain attacks, compete for scores, and discover secret routes requiring multiple characters.
For a launch console emphasizing connectivity, TMNT was almost perfect.
People understood the concept immediately.
Invite your friends.
Pick a turtle.
Beat the hell out of everything.
The graphics also benefited enormously from stylized rendering rather than chasing realism. Strong outlines, exaggerated animation, expressive characters, bright effects, and detailed environments made the game resemble an animated production brought directly into interactive form. New York streets, rooftops, sewer systems, warehouses, laboratories, and bizarre enemy bases gave the stages plenty of visual variety.
Bosses were equally important.
Zaboru disliked licensed games that treated bosses as slightly larger normal enemies with more health.
TMNT's bosses needed actual mechanics.
Pattern recognition.
Environmental interaction.
Cooperative opportunities.
Distinct phases.
And enough personality that younger players would remember them afterward.
Zaboru smiled as he inspected the back of the case. "Yeah. Beat-'em-ups absolutely belong in a launch lineup."
He placed TMNT beside Metal Gear Solid 2.
Then he picked up the next Blue-Ray case.
A group of armored soldiers stood against an alien landscape. One figure dominated the artwork: green power armor, reflective golden visor, rifle held firmly in his hands.
Zaboru's eyes lit up immediately.
"No…"
He smiled.
"I think we're just getting started."
HALO: COMBAT EVOLVED.
The irony was not lost on him.
Microsoft had entered the console market in this world with titles such as HORI, their post-apocalyptic FPS intended to demonstrate Xbox's visual strength.
Meanwhile ZAGE was about to launch ZEPS 4 with Halo.
A franchise that, in Zaboru's previous life, had practically defined the original Xbox.
He found the reversal hilarious.
Not that he felt guilty.
This world had developed differently. Microsoft had its own franchises, its own developers, and its own identity. Halo belonged to ZAGE here because Zaboru had brought the concept into existence first.
And Halo was an almost perfect launch title.
First-person shooters already existed on consoles, but Halo demonstrated how naturally the genre could work with dual analog sticks when the controls, aim assistance, acceleration curves, enemy behavior, weapon balance, and encounter design were built around a controller from the beginning.
Master Chief became the anchor.
The mysterious armored super-soldier awakening aboard the Pillar of Autumn, encountering the Covenant, landing on the enormous artificial ringworld called Halo, discovering the Flood, and gradually learning what the ring actually represented provided a strong narrative without constantly interrupting gameplay.
The sandbox mattered even more.
Weapons behaved differently instead of simply increasing damage.
Plasma weapons overheated.
Human firearms required ammunition and reloading.
Grenades interacted with physics.
Vehicles gave players different approaches to large battles.
Enemies reacted intelligently.
Elites dodged.
Grunts panicked when leaders died.
Jackals used shields.
Hunters demanded entirely different tactics.
Combat encounters could play out differently every time because AI, vehicles, explosives, weapons, terrain, and the player's own decisions constantly interacted.
ZEPS 4 gave the developers enormous room to improve the original concept further. Larger battlefields could contain more active enemies. Vehicle physics became smoother. Lighting across the ringworld made its strange alien structures even more impressive. Covenant energy weapons illuminated nearby surfaces. Explosions threw debris and bodies through the environment. Character animation became substantially more natural.
But performance remained the priority.
A shooter needed responsiveness.
Just like Devil May Cry.
Just like Need for Speed.
Zaboru also knew Halo could become one of ZAGE Network's defining multiplayer games.
Local multiplayer was included, naturally.
But online multiplayer was where things could become dangerous.
Deathmatch.
Team Deathmatch.
Capture the Flag.
Vehicle battles.
Custom matches.
Friends lists.
Voice chat.
Persistent ZAGE ID.
Halo could demonstrate immediately why putting networking infrastructure directly inside the console mattered.
Zaboru rubbed his chin while looking at Master Chief.
"Hehehe… yeah. This is going to become somebody's entire personality."
He placed Halo down.
Then came the next case.
The cover immediately made him laugh.
Several pieces of artwork surrounded a familiar central logo. Cars, streets, weapons, neighborhoods, characters, helicopters, and the unmistakable atmosphere of a criminal open world came together beneath one title.
GRAND THEFT AUTO: SAN ANDREAS.
Zaboru grinned.
"You picked the wrong house, fool!"
He laughed loudly before shaking his head.
Grand Theft Auto already existed in this world, but its history differed dramatically from the one Zaboru remembered. The first ZAGE GTA had released for ZEPS 3 back in 1999, effectively combining ideas from GTA 1 and GTA 2 into a single title simply called Grand Theft Auto.
Logically, the next release probably should have been called GTA 2.
Zaboru had considered that.
Then decided he did not care.
Why slowly repeat history when he already knew exactly which direction he wanted the series to take?
San Andreas was one of the defining games of the PlayStation 2 era in his previous life. More than that, Zaboru considered it one of those rare games whose appeal remained understandable decades later.
A massive world.
Three major cities.
Countryside.
Desert.
Mountains.
Gang warfare.
Cars.
Motorcycles.
Aircraft.
Boats.
Weapons.
Clothing.
Haircuts.
Gyms.
Food.
Property.
Side activities.
Police chases.
Radio stations.
Absurd secrets.
And a protagonist whose story could somehow move from neighborhood gang conflict to breaking into military facilities without the player completely rejecting the insanity.
Carl "CJ" Johnson.
Zaboru had deliberately resisted stuffing too many new systems into it.
San Andreas already had enough.
The goal was enhancement, not drowning the original design beneath unnecessary additions.
ZEPS 4 allowed the world to become visually richer, busier, and far more seamless. Traffic density increased. Pedestrian variety expanded. Draw distance improved dramatically. Character models became more expressive. Interiors received greater detail. Weather effects improved. Vehicles showed more visible damage. City lighting at night became dramatically stronger.
Loading interruptions were reduced as much as possible.
But the structure remained recognizably San Andreas.
Los Santos.
San Fierro.
Las Venturas.
The countryside connecting them.
The desert.
Mount Chiliad.
The Grove Street storyline.
Big Smoke.
Sweet.
Ryder.
Cesar.
Tenpenny.
Zaboru did add more vehicles, more clothing options, additional hairstyles, expanded side activities, more interior locations, and several small missions designed to make the enormous world feel even more alive.
But he refused to turn enhancement into feature bloat.
San Andreas already possessed something more valuable than technical perfection.
Personality.
Players could spend fifty hours following the story.
Or completely ignore it and spend three hours stealing a bicycle, climbing a mountain, jumping off the summit, somehow surviving, stealing a police vehicle, and beginning a completely unrelated disaster.
That freedom was GTA.
Zaboru looked at the case with genuine affection.
"This game is eternal."
He knew arguments would happen around it.
Violence.
Crime.
Language.
Controversial content.
Politicians would almost certainly complain.
Parents would complain.
Some newspapers would probably blame GTA for crimes committed by people who had never even touched the game.
Zaboru was already mentally preparing himself for those conversations.
But none of that changed his opinion.
Games could tell stories about criminals.
Movies already did.
Books already did.
Television already did.
The existence of fictional crime did not mean ZAGE was instructing people to commit it.
And San Andreas was simply too damn good to leave behind.
Zaboru placed the Blue-Ray case beside Halo.
He stepped backward.
Ten games now sat across the table.
Monster Hunter.
Devil May Cry.
Shin Megami Tensei III: Nocturne.
Pokémon Colosseum.
Super Mario Sunshine.
Need for Speed: Underground.
Metal Gear Solid 2: Sons of Liberty.
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.
Halo: Combat Evolved.
Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas.
Even Zaboru had to stop for a moment and appreciate what he was looking at.
Ten launch games.
And none of them felt redundant.
Monster Hunter provided cooperative hunting and long-term progression. Devil May Cry represented technical action. Nocturne offered a difficult turn-based RPG. Pokémon Colosseum brought one of the world's largest franchises onto ZEPS 4. Mario supplied accessible platforming. Need for Speed delivered street racing and customization. Metal Gear represented cinematic stealth. TMNT provided approachable cooperative beat-'em-up action. Halo demonstrated console shooting and ZAGE Network multiplayer. GTA offered an enormous open-world sandbox.
This was not a launch lineup built around one audience.
It was a statement about what ZEPS 4 was supposed to become.
A machine where almost any kind of game could exist.
And there were still two cases remaining.
Zaboru looked toward them.
His grin slowly returned.
These final two were particularly interesting because they were not simply more examples of familiar genres.
They were meant to demonstrate something else.
Something different.
Something that would show players that ZEPS 4 was not merely a stronger ZEPS 3 with prettier graphics and online connectivity.
Zaboru picked up the eleventh Blue-Ray case and chuckled.
"Well, well…"
His eyes moved across the artwork.
"This one is going to be different."
He turned the case toward himself and the game is….
To be continued.
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