Zaboru reached toward the eleventh Blue-Ray case and immediately grinned when he saw the title printed across the cover.
ZAGE KART.
For a moment, he simply stared at it before chuckling to himself.
In previous generations, ZAGE's kart-racing games had mostly existed under individual franchises. There had been Mario Kart-style releases, Sonic racing games, and several smaller crossover experiments built around specific characters or limited rosters. They had always been fun, but Zaboru had eventually reached a conclusion that now seemed almost painfully obvious.
Why keep separating everything?
ZAGE controlled an enormous library of characters across games, animation, licensed properties, and entertainment franchises. Mario had his own recognizable world. Sonic had his own. Crash Bandicoot had his own. Bomberman had his own. SpongeBob and several other Nickelodion characters already had strong recognition among younger audiences. ZAGE also had original characters from dozens of its own franchises, and more would appear every year.
So instead of continuing to make multiple disconnected kart games, Zaboru had decided to build one large crossover title that could grow alongside the ZEPS platform itself.
ZAGE Kart.
Not every ZAGE-owned or partnered character would be included at launch, obviously. That would be ridiculous even by Zaboru's standards. The roster was already large enough with characters from Mario, Sonic, Crash Bandicoot, Bomberman, SpongeBob, and several other recognizable properties, while future updates, sequels, and expansions could gradually introduce more.
That was part of the appeal.
Zaboru picked up the case and studied the artwork. Mario and Sonic occupied the front almost like rival mascots, while Crash leaned aggressively out of his kart on one side. Bomberman was visible farther back, one hand gripping the wheel while the other held a bomb that was absolutely going to cause somebody problems. SpongeBob somehow drove a ridiculous underwater-themed kart despite the track clearly being nowhere near Bikini Bottom.
Zaboru chuckled. "Yeah… this is definitely better than having five separate kart franchises fighting each other."
The underlying gameplay remained deliberately familiar.
Kart racing worked because it was easy to understand.
Accelerate.
Turn.
Drift.
Use items.
Scream when your friend steals first place five seconds before the finish line.
That did not need reinvention.
What Zaboru wanted instead was refinement and scale.
Tracks were far more elaborate than anything ZAGE had previously attempted in the genre. One race could begin inside the Mushroom Kingdom, dive through a Warp Pipe, emerge onto a Sonic-style coastal highway, then transition through a collapsing industrial section before ending inside a giant Bomberman arena. Other tracks remained dedicated to individual franchises, allowing their identity to dominate from beginning to end.
A Mario track might emphasize pipes, moving platforms, Thwomps, and environmental shortcuts. Sonic stages favored speed, loop-like turns, long downhill sections, boost panels, and hazards requiring fast reactions. Crash tracks contained crates, narrow jungle roads, collapsing bridges, and absurd environmental traps. SpongeBob stages could move through Bikini Bottom with routes crossing the Krusty Krab, Jellyfish Fields, and underwater roads designed around exaggerated cartoon logic.
The goal was controlled insanity.
Tracks needed enough spectacle to surprise players without becoming so chaotic that skill stopped mattering.
That balance had become one of Zaboru's strongest instructions during development.
Random items were obviously included, because a kart game without ridiculous items would lose half its personality. But stronger items were weighted toward racers farther behind, while players leading the race received more defensive or situational tools. Zaboru wanted comebacks to remain possible without reducing every match to pure luck.
Shortcuts were equally important.
Some were obvious.
Some required specific items.
Others demanded precise drifting or risky jumps.
A few were intentionally hidden well enough that players would spend months arguing over whether they had discovered the fastest route.
Characters also possessed subtle differences in acceleration, weight, handling, and top speed, but Zaboru refused to make the statistics complicated enough that children needed spreadsheets before selecting SpongeBob.
Pick the character you like.
Race.
Learn their strengths later.
That was enough.
The part that interested Zaboru most, however, was multiplayer.
Local multiplayer remained mandatory. Zaboru considered split-screen kart racing too important to abandon simply because ZAGE Network existed. Families and friends needed to be able to sit in the same room and destroy their relationships over a last-second item.
But online multiplayer expanded that chaos considerably.
ZAGE Kart supported full ZAGE Network matchmaking, friend lobbies, custom races, tournaments, ranking systems, and private rooms. Players could build playlists of tracks, restrict item pools, configure lap counts, choose teams, or simply select everything randomly and accept whatever disaster followed.
Then came voice chat.
Zaboru laughed merely thinking about it.
The ZEPS 4 controller supported headset communication, and ZAGE Kart allowed players inside multiplayer lobbies to speak with one another before, during, and after races depending on host settings.
That sounded simple.
Zaboru knew exactly what it would become.
Someone would get hit by a bomb two meters before the finish line and immediately begin screaming into their headset. Two friends would spend the entire race threatening one another while deliberately ignoring everyone else. A child would probably celebrate too early, get passed at the finish line, and produce a level of emotional devastation that would be remembered by everyone in the lobby.
Zaboru could already imagine it.
And he loved it.
Not because he wanted toxicity, obviously. Muting, reporting, parental restrictions, friend-only voice options, and communication settings were already integrated into ZAGE Network. But among friends, voice communication could transform an ordinary multiplayer race into a story people remembered afterward.
That mattered.
A great multiplayer game was not merely a collection of mechanics.
It generated memories.
Zaboru placed the case beside Halo and smiled. "Yeah. This one is staying around for a long time."
He genuinely believed ZAGE Kart could become one of the defining multiplayer experiences of ZEPS 4. It was easy enough for almost anyone to play, recognizable enough to attract fans from multiple franchises, competitive enough to support skilled communities, and chaotic enough that even people who lost could still have fun.
That left only one case.
Zaboru slowly reached toward it.
Unlike most of the others, the cover did not feature swords, monsters, guns, racing cars, demons, criminals, or enormous fictional worlds.
Instead, it showed several ordinary people performing exaggerated sporting motions while holding the Z-Remote.
One swung like a tennis player.
Another prepared to throw a bowling ball.
A third stood in a boxing stance.
A fourth held an imaginary baseball bat.
Across the center was an extremely simple title.
ZAGE SPORTS.
Zaboru's grin widened.
"Hehehehe… this is going to be different."
If someone heard the phrase video game, one stereotype still appeared constantly.
Someone sitting on a sofa.
Barely moving.
Controller in hand.
Eyes glued to a television for several hours.
ZAGE Sports turned that expectation almost completely upside down.
The title was directly inspired by Wii Sports from Zaboru's previous life, but adapted around ZEPS 4's launch hardware and the existing capabilities of the Z-Remote. The controller's gyroscope and accelerometer allowed the game to recognize swings, rotation, tilt, speed, and general movement without requiring players to learn complicated button combinations.
The basic philosophy was almost aggressively simple.
If you wanted to swing a baseball bat—
swing the controller.
If you wanted to throw a bowling ball—
perform the motion.
If you wanted to punch—
punch.
If you wanted to swing a tennis racket—
swing.
People who had never touched a console before could understand the concept within seconds.
And that was precisely why Zaboru believed it could become enormous.
ZAGE Sports included Baseball, Tennis, Bowling, Fishing, Boxing, Golf, and several additional activities designed around motion input. Some were intentionally simple. Others had surprising depth once players understood timing, angle, power, and movement.
Bowling was probably the easiest demonstration.
The player held the Z-Remote comfortably, moved their arm backward, then swung forward as though releasing a real bowling ball. Speed affected power. Wrist rotation influenced spin. Release timing changed trajectory.
Even someone watching from across the room could immediately understand what was happening.
Tennis relied more heavily on timing and swing direction. Players did not manually move their character around every inch of the court; positioning was partly automated so beginners could focus on the most intuitive interaction—the swing itself. More advanced players learned to control timing, placement, and different shot angles.
Baseball separated pitching and batting into extremely readable interactions. A child could stand in front of the television, hold the Z-Remote like a bat, wait for the pitch, and swing naturally.
Golf translated swing speed and orientation into shot power and direction.
Fishing used pulling and rotation motions to simulate fighting against fish.
Boxing was where Zaboru expected people to underestimate how exhausting the game could become.
Players held controllers and physically punched.
Not tiny wrist movements.
Not merely pressing buttons.
Actual repeated punches.
Jabs.
Hooks.
Uppercuts.
Dodges.
Body movement.
Ten minutes could become surprisingly tiring.
Zaboru chuckled. "People are going to call video games lazy and then get sore shoulders playing this."
That was part of what fascinated him.
Games could absolutely encourage sedentary behavior if someone spent every waking hour sitting still. Zaboru was not going to pretend otherwise. But interactive entertainment did not inherently require immobility.
ZAGE Sports could demonstrate the opposite.
People could play together while standing.
Parents could compete with children.
Grandparents who had no idea what an analog stick was could understand bowling almost instantly.
Friends could turn a living room into a ridiculous boxing tournament.
Families who normally never touched games might suddenly find themselves arguing over golf scores.
The potential audience was completely different from Monster Hunter, DMC, Nocturne, or GTA.
That was why Zaboru considered ZAGE Sports one of the most strategically important launch titles.
It was not there to impress hardcore players with complex systems.
It existed to destroy one of the biggest barriers gaming still had.
The controller itself.
Traditional gamepads were natural to people who had spent years using them. To everyone else, they could be surprisingly intimidating. Two analog sticks, a directional pad, four face buttons, shoulder buttons, triggers, system buttons—experienced players no longer thought about them, but newcomers did.
The Z-Remote allowed Zaboru to bypass that problem.
"You already know how to swing your arm," he muttered. "So just swing your damn arm."
Simple.
Zaboru was absolutely certain the first public demonstrations would generate strong reactions. Someone would see tennis and initially think it was a gimmick. Then they would try it. Their character would immediately respond to the motion.
That moment mattered.
The realization that I moved, and the game understood me could feel almost magical to someone encountering the concept for the first time.
And Zaboru knew this was only the beginning.
The Z-Remote could become increasingly sophisticated over ZEPS 4's lifespan. New software techniques could improve interpretation. Developers would discover control ideas Zaboru himself had never considered. Additional accessories could eventually expand what the controller was capable of.
But launch did not need all of that.
ZAGE Sports only needed to establish the idea.
Video games could be played differently.
And perhaps more importantly, games could even become part of a healthier lifestyle when designed around movement.
Zaboru smiled while looking at the boxing screenshot on the back of the case. "Hehehe… yeah. I'm definitely going to use this when people start saying games make everyone lazy."
He set ZAGE Sports down.
Then he stepped backward.
Twelve finished Blue-Ray cases now stretched across the desk.
For a while, Zaboru simply looked at them.
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.
ZAGE Kart.
ZAGE Sports.
Twelve games.
Twelve completely different experiences.
And technically, Zaboru could have pushed for more.
ZAGE absolutely possessed the development capacity.
Its Japanese, American, Korean, Chinese, and European studios contained hundreds of experienced developers. Several additional ZEPS 4 games were already far enough into development that, with aggressive scheduling, Zaboru could probably force another few titles into the launch period.
He refused.
A console did not need twenty giant games on the same day.
Players had limited money.
More importantly, they had limited time.
Releasing too many major titles simultaneously would simply force ZAGE games to compete against one another. Some would inevitably receive less attention despite being excellent.
Zaboru wanted ZEPS 4 to feel continuously alive instead.
Launch would begin with twelve.
Then March would receive another major ZAGE release.
April already had two internal projects being positioned depending on final development progress.
May would likely receive one or two more.
June would have its own schedule.
Then summer.
Autumn.
Holiday season.
Month after month, ZEPS 4's library would expand.
Not through rushed production.
Through controlled release timing.
That distinction mattered.
The games themselves were also becoming much more difficult to produce.
ZEPS 4 allowed enormous environments, complex AI, high-resolution assets, advanced animation, online systems, voice communication, larger soundtracks, cinematic scenes, detailed physics, downloadable content, and significantly higher visual expectations. A game that might have required fifty developers several years earlier could now easily consume far more.
Development would naturally slow down as quality increased.
Zaboru already understood the danger.
If every technological generation made games dramatically harder to produce, eventually budgets and schedules could become absurd. Studios might spend five or six years on individual releases. A single commercial failure could become catastrophic. Developers could become terrified of experimentation because too much money depended on every game succeeding.
He did not want ZAGE walking blindly into that future.
Which meant tools mattered.
Unreal Engine mattered.
ZAGE's internal development frameworks mattered.
Shared animation systems mattered.
Reusable physics mattered.
Better asset pipelines mattered.
Visual scripting mattered.
Improved debugging mattered.
Developer documentation mattered.
Automated testing mattered.
If ZEPS 4 made games more ambitious, Zaboru wanted ZAGE's technology to make building those ambitious games less painful.
His mind immediately began moving toward future Unreal Engine improvements.
Better tools for open worlds.
Faster lighting workflows.
Simplified multiplayer integration.
More reusable character systems.
Improved asset compression.
Animation blending tools.
Streaming technology.
Anything that allowed developers to spend less time fighting technology and more time actually creating the game.
Zaboru nodded slowly.
"Yeah… quality goes up, development gets harder. Then we make the tools better too."
That was how the cycle should work.
Not endless overtime.
Not simply throwing more employees at every problem.
Better technology.
Better workflows.
Better engines.
Better management.
Then better games.
He looked back toward the twelve Blue-Ray cases.
A grin slowly spread across his face again.
"Hehehehe…"
"These twelve are definitely going to break the game industry."
Zaboru chuckled and looked toward the calendar.
The real campaign began this week.
The first major ZEPS 4 promotional trailer would air publicly within days.
After that, there would be no going back.
And several marketing ideas Zaboru had intentionally kept secret from almost everyone outside the core promotional team.
The weeks leading toward 2 February 2002 would become one continuous ZEPS 4 assault.
Zaboru rubbed his hands together.
"Hehehe… I really can't wait."
Then he happened to glance toward the clock.
His expression changed immediately.
"Oh."
He had almost forgotten.
Zaboru quickly gathered several things from the desk before looking once more at the twelve games.
"Alright. Enough console obsession for today."
He chuckled.
"Time to go back to Japan."
Ayumi wanted to record something.
Her first actual public upload to YouTube.
That mattered considerably more than it might have seemed.
After everything surrounding the Hamazou family, her past, her decision to stop allowing other people to define how the public would eventually learn about her, and the conversations she had recently shared with Zaboru and Akechi, Ayumi had finally decided to begin introducing herself on her own terms.
As Ayumi.
Game developer.
Creator.
Mother.
A woman who loved games almost as obsessively as her husband.
And if she was really going to begin that process now, there was absolutely no chance Zaboru was missing it.
His smile softened.
"Hehehe… my wife's first YouTube debut."
ZEPS 4 could wait a few hours.
Zaboru picked up his Black Berry, sent a quick message that he was heading back, and left the office.
Behind him, the twelve Blue-Ray cases remained neatly arranged across the desk.
Twelve games waiting to introduce ZEPS 4 to the world.
Within days, the world would finally begin seeing what ZAGE had spent years building.
But first—
Ayumi had something she wanted to say.
To be continued.
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