Monday night.
Within only a few hours of ZAGE releasing its so-called "Joke Interview," the video had already amused countless people and offended nearly as many. Fans considered it hilarious, gaming magazines were quoting the censored portions almost word for word, and the phrase "For them" had already begun spreading through online communities. Yet among all the people discussing it, few were as genuinely irritated as Steve Jobs and several executives inside Apple's video-game division.
Steve was currently sitting inside a private Apple conference room with Zanki Zagashira and several senior engineers involved with i-Play. A replay of the interview remained frozen on the screen in front of them, specifically at the moment Zaboru had walked directly toward the camera and questioned whether ZEPS 3 had truly lost to the two conveniently censored consoles. Steve stared at the image for several seconds before his expression darkened further. "This is genuinely insulting," he said, finally breaking the silence. "They can hide behind censorship all they want, but that 'P' console is obviously i-Play. Everyone knows it. They know everyone knows it."
Zanki remained considerably calmer. He had already watched both the Zaraki music video and the interview several times, and although he found ZAGE's behavior irritating, he could not deny the effectiveness of it. Steve, however, was becoming more visibly annoyed the longer he looked at the screen. "First they animate a white-and-yellow P console getting humiliated, then they release an interview pretending it has absolutely nothing to do with us. And now every gaming forum is laughing about it." Steve tapped his fingers against the table before looking sharply toward Zanki. "We should file a lawsuit."
Zanki slowly raised one hand. "Mr. Jobs, please refrain from doing that for now."
Steve's eyes narrowed. "And why shouldn't we? They are clearly using our product as the target of their advertising."
"Because proving that is considerably harder than being offended by it," Zanki replied. "The console in the video is called P. It resembles i-Play, certainly. But ZAGE never officially says it is i-Play. The names in the interview are censored. The disclaimer calls everything fictional. Their lawyers almost certainly reviewed every second of it before publication."
Steve did not look convinced. "Everyone understands what they mean."
"That is exactly why the joke works," Zanki answered. "Everyone understands, but legally ZAGE can simply say the audience interpreted a fictional character however they wanted."
One of Apple's legal advisers quietly nodded, which clearly did not improve Steve's mood.
Zanki continued, "There is also another problem. This is essentially a case of receiving a taste of our own medicine. Do you remember the promotional campaign we used when i-Play was introduced? We directly referenced ZEPS 3. We compared ourselves against it. We made jokes at its expense and emphasized how old it was compared with our hardware. At the time, we were perfectly comfortable calling it aggressive marketing."
Steve frowned. Of course he remembered. Apple and Zusuga had deliberately positioned i-Play as a stylish new alternative to older machines, and ZEPS 3 had been an obvious target. Back then, the jokes had felt clever because Apple was the one making them. Now that ZAGE had responded with a far louder campaign, the same kind of humor felt considerably less entertaining.
Zanki leaned back. "If we sue immediately after ZAGE finally mocks us in return, the public response will not be sympathetic. They will simply say Apple can dish it out but cannot take it."
Steve looked toward the frozen image of Zaboru again. "I hate that argument."
"I know."
"That doesn't make it wrong."
"No."
Steve sighed and rubbed his forehead. "And threatening them publicly?"
"Probably worse," Zanki replied. "ZAGE is unlikely to stop because we complain. Zaboru might actually enjoy it. If Apple issues an angry statement, the next headline becomes APPLE FURIOUS OVER ZAGE VIDEO, which gives the interview another week of free publicity."
That possibility was sufficiently believable that Steve immediately went quiet.
Zanki continued more carefully, "The better move is to let it pass. ZAGE has already made its joke. If we refuse to react emotionally, the story eventually loses energy. Once ZEPS 4 is actually revealed in full, we evaluate the machine itself. That is where our response needs to matter."
Steve remained silent for several moments before finally muttering, "Fine. For now."
Zanki nodded, although inwardly he sighed. Somehow Steve kept looking toward him whenever something involving ZAGE became complicated. Zanki was supposed to be Apple's business partner through Zusuga and the i-Play project, not Steve's personal strategist. Still, after working beside him long enough, he had become accustomed to the pattern. Steve reacted emotionally first, then expected the people around him to turn that emotion into something useful.
Yet Zanki had his own concerns. ZAGE's recent marketing was showing something he could not easily reproduce with money alone. It was not merely production quality. Apple could afford high-quality advertisements. Zusuga could afford animation, celebrity endorsements, television time, and expensive launch events. The difficult part was the personality behind it. ZAGE's campaigns felt unmistakably like ZAGE. Even when they were childish, provocative, or ridiculous, people immediately understood who had made them. That kind of identity was far harder to manufacture.
At Microsoft's reaction was considerably different.
Bill Gates sat comfortably inside one of Microsoft's conference rooms while the interview finished playing on the large screen. Seamus Blackley remained nearby with his arms folded, waiting for Bill's response. When the final disclaimer appeared—
All statements in this interview are fictional.
Then:
Probably.
Bill laughed.
"They're bold," he said. "And creative. I actually don't dislike it."
Seamus raised an eyebrow. "You don't mind being one of the targets?"
"Oh, I mind," Bill replied. "I just respect the execution. There's a difference." He leaned back slightly. "Honestly, this is exactly the kind of thing I would want to do to competitors if I knew I could get away with it. They mocked us, refused to admit they mocked us, censored our name after making it completely obvious, and somehow turned the denial itself into another advertisement. That's good marketing."
Seamus chuckled. "Yeah, Boss. I didn't expect them to have the guts to go this far, but I suppose that's ZAGE. They don't seem particularly interested in maintaining the kind of perfectly polished corporate image most companies want."
"No," Bill replied. "Their image is that they don't have one."
Seamus laughed. "That sounds contradictory."
"It is. But it works." Bill pointed toward the screen. "Zaboru can stand in front of a camera, act like an idiot for five minutes, insult two competitors through censor beeps, then suddenly say something confident enough that everyone takes him seriously again. Most executives would look ridiculous trying the same thing."
That was the difficult part to reproduce. ZAGE's marketing depended heavily on Zaboru himself, but his public persona had been built over years. People already expected him to joke, provoke competitors, make strange announcements, praise games enthusiastically, and occasionally behave more like an excited developer than the owner of a global corporation. If Bill attempted exactly the same interview tomorrow, it would not feel natural. If Steve Jobs tried it, it would feel different again. Zaboru's personality had effectively become another piece of ZAGE's brand.
Bill looked thoughtful. "Do you think they'll keep doing this until ZEPS 4 launches?"
Seamus considered the question. "Not exactly like this. If they repeat the same joke too many times, it becomes annoying. ZAGE probably knows that. The music video worked because it was unexpected. The interview worked because it continued the joke in a different format. Doing five more versions would weaken it."
Bill nodded. "So they stop."
"I think they change direction," Seamus replied. "That's what worries me more. They've created attention without revealing much. At some point they have to convert that attention into actual product information."
Bill looked toward him. "Hardware?"
"Hardware. Price. Games. Online services. Maybe whatever that strange remote controller does. We still don't know everything."
"And when they finally reveal it?"
Seamus smiled faintly. "Then we stop laughing and start calculating."
Bill laughed. "Good answer."
Unlike Steve, Bill did not feel personally offended by the mockery. Xbox had entered the market aggressively. Seamus himself had publicly provoked ZAGE more than once. The Xbox is ROCX disaster remained impossible to forget, and Microsoft's campaigns had not exactly treated its competitors gently. Getting mocked in return was simply part of the game.
What bothered Bill more was that ZAGE seemed unusually comfortable under pressure. The recent Ayumi controversy had failed to derail them. The first ZEPS 4 teaser had dominated gaming discussion. Then the Zaraki video transformed competition into entertainment. Now this absurd interview had extended the conversation another day without revealing anything truly important.
ZAGE was controlling the tempo.
Bill did not like that.
But he respected it.
Meanwhile, inside Sonaya's offices, Hikaru Kurata had a very different reaction.
He was grinning.
The moment the interview ended, Hikaru looked toward Junpei Hoshida and laughed. "I'm glad they didn't target us this time."
Junpei immediately chuckled. "You sound relieved."
"I am."
Hikaru understood exactly what Xbox and i-Play were experiencing because Sonaya had been standing in that position years earlier. During the ZEPS 3 era, Sonaya and ZAGE had exchanged enough provocative advertisements, aggressive statements, songs, and public challenges that entire gaming magazines occasionally treated their rivalry like entertainment. Sonaya itself had happily participated. One of the most memorable promotional lines from those years—"I'm your nightmare come to life"—had been aimed directly at them, and Hikaru remembered enjoying the reaction enormously at the time.
Being the person throwing the punch was fun.
Watching the other company prepare to punch back was considerably less relaxing.
Junpei leaned against the table. "Xbox and i-Play are still relatively new to this side of the industry. They came in confident, saw ZEPS 3 aging, and started attacking it through their marketing. They probably assumed ZAGE would respond like a normal corporation."
Hikaru laughed. "That was their first mistake."
"Exactly. ZAGE isn't docile. They're wild." Junpei shook his head with an amused smile. "And when they finally decide to strike back, they don't just release a comparison chart saying their machine is better. They make a song, turn the consoles into cartoon characters, throw them into a box, and then have Kojima interview Zaboru while pretending none of it happened."
Hikaru's grin widened. "We know that feeling, don't we?"
"We certainly do."
For Sonaya, however, that history had gradually become useful. Years of fighting ZAGE had taught Hikaru something he had not understood when the rivalry began: constantly defining Sonaya according to what ZAGE was doing was exhausting. Every time Zaboru announced something, Sonaya had once felt obligated to answer. New hardware required immediate hardware. New games required competing games. New advertisements demanded another campaign. It created energy, certainly, but it also meant allowing another company to determine their priorities.
Hikaru no longer wanted that.
He turned away from the screen and looked toward Junpei. "Anyway, we've enjoyed watching them terrorize somebody else long enough. How is the new IP progressing?"
Junpei's amusement faded into a more thoughtful expression. "Still early, but the concept is developing well. The team has the general direction, several characters, and a prototype of the core gameplay. The problem is that some parts still feel disconnected. The individual ideas are strong, but we haven't completely found the thing that ties them together yet."
Hikaru nodded slowly. That was exactly the kind of problem that could ruin an otherwise promising project. A game could contain excellent mechanics, characters, visuals, and ideas and still feel mediocre if none of them reinforced one another.
Then Hikaru smiled. "Maybe I really should ask Zaboru."
Junpei looked at him. "You were serious about that?"
"Of course."
"Boss, this is a Sonaya project."
"I'm aware."
"And you want to ask the owner of ZAGE for advice."
"Yes."
Junpei stared at him before finally laughing. "You really do want to work with him again."
Hikaru shrugged. "He owes me a couple of favors. Besides, asking someone's opinion doesn't mean handing them the project. We listen to what he says, decide whether it's useful, and then make our own decision. Zaboru is annoyingly good at looking at a game for thirty minutes and finding the one problem everyone else has spent three months avoiding."
Junpei could not disagree with that. Zaboru had done exactly that often enough that developers throughout the industry had started joking about it. His advice was not always correct, and he certainly had preferences of his own, but his ability to identify the heart of a game was difficult to dismiss.
Hikaru continued, "Competition doesn't mean we need to pretend our rivals are stupid. If Zaboru knows something useful, I'll listen. If we know something useful, maybe one day he listens to us. Then we still try to beat each other afterward."
Junpei smiled. "That sounds healthier than the old days."
"It's less exhausting."
"That too."
The change inside Sonaya had happened gradually enough that many outsiders had not fully noticed it. ZAGE remained one of its strongest competitors. Hikaru absolutely still wanted Sonaya hardware and games to succeed, and he would happily outperform ZAGE whenever the opportunity appeared. But the relationship had evolved beyond simple hostility. They could compete in one market, cooperate elsewhere, exchange ideas, share technology when beneficial, and still enjoy throwing occasional punches at one another.
It was rivalry without obsession.
Hikaru glanced one last time toward the paused image of Zaboru and Kojima laughing inside the ZAGE conference room. "Still," he said, "I'm very happy that P and X exist now."
Junpei laughed. "Because Zaboru finally has somebody else to bully?"
"Exactly."
The two men laughed before returning to the new IP documents spread across the table.
Across Apple, Microsoft, and Sonaya, the reactions had been completely different. Steve Jobs saw an insult that needed an answer. Bill Gates saw a clever competitive move worth studying. Hikaru Kurata saw something much more familiar—the inevitable retaliation of a company he had already spent years provoking and learning from.
But they all understood one thing.
ZAGE had everybody's attention.
And ZEPS 4 still had not been fully revealed.
Then, on Tuesday, something happened again.
To be continued.
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