"Mr. Lin, why must the game boards be encoded at your company?"
Hearing Lin Baicheng's words, Akio Nakanishi didn't ask about anything else first; he spoke the question that had been on his mind.
"That's because each arcade game board we produce has our company's anti-piracy software embedded. This is a company secret. Anyone attempting to forcibly copy the boards will trigger the system's core program to self-destruct, corrupting the game code."
Lin Baicheng didn't hide this — after all, anyone determined could figure it out by buying an arcade machine and trying to copy it.
"Such software exists?!"
Akio Nakanishi was startled, then his expression brightened. "Mr. Lin, if your software truly prevents piracy, our company would like to cooperate and obtain a license. We are willing to pay a price that won't disappoint you."
At that moment, compared to simply distributing Hong Kong Blocks, Nakanishi was more interested in the anti-piracy software.
For a game company, piracy was the greatest threat. Even with copyrights, pirates could still copy games. Even Taito Corporation couldn't stop it entirely; at best, they could punish major offenders as a warning.
But for every pirate caught, more would emerge. Piracy was profitable, after all.
Since Taito also made games, they suffered from piracy as well. Solving the problem would dramatically increase profits. The profits from distributing Hong Kong Blocks paled in comparison, which is why Nakanishi was more interested in the anti-piracy software.
"Whether our software can prevent piracy, Mr. Nakanishi, you can have your Japan office test it and see for yourself," Lin Baicheng said with a smile. "However, I'm sorry, I do not intend to license this software to any other company. It will remain for exclusive use in our games."
Lin Baicheng hadn't even applied for copyright on the software, to prevent outsiders from accessing the code. This software came from decades of future technology; if other companies learned about it, it could improve their engineers' skills — something Lin did not want.
He also planned to use this software as a foundation for future systems on consoles, like the Famicom, to prevent piracy in upcoming games.
Of course, once global computing advanced enough, the software could eventually be cracked — but that would be decades later. For at least the next ten years, Lin had nothing to worry about.
"$300. If your company wants the anti-piracy software, you can send the boards to us and we'll integrate the software. For every machine used with our software, your company will pay a $300 licensing fee."
Hearing this, Nakanishi became anxious. He tried to entice Lin with the potential profits: "Mr. Lin, you might not realize it, but Taito Corporation, as Japan's largest game company, sells no fewer than 100,000 units annually. That means your company could earn at least $30 million per year without doing any additional work."
"Boss Lin," Liu Yihui couldn't help but speak. $30 million a year, doing nothing — it was incredible.
Even Yamada Hideyoshi, translating for them, felt excitement; he was glad he hadn't made the wrong choice. Seagame was truly a major company.
"I'm sorry. As I said, I will not license the anti-piracy software to any company," Lin Baicheng said firmly.
Though tempted by the money, he shook his head. He knew if Taito obtained the software, they would likely reverse-engineer it and develop their own system. Lin could not predict how long they'd take to crack it.
If Taito cracked it in under a year, Lin would face huge losses. He'd rather forgo the profit than risk exposing the core software.
"Mr. Lin, I truly want to cooperate with your company. If the $300 per machine licensing fee is unacceptable, we can negotiate."
Even rejected, Nakanishi didn't give up — he was willing to pay more for the software, seeing it as crucial for Taito's advancement.
"This isn't about price. I simply will not license the software."
Lin waved his hand. While Yamada translated for Nanami Nohara, he continued: "However, I have a proposal. If your company is willing, we can cooperate in this way."
"Please, Mr. Lin," Nakanishi said.
"I won't give your company a license, but if you need the anti-piracy software, you can send the boards to us. We will integrate the software, achieving the anti-piracy goal. Of course, we will charge a service fee for this."
Lin Baicheng wanted to earn money but didn't want to license the software, so he compromised, leaving it up to Nakanishi whether to accept.
"In that case, we'd have to send the boards to you, wait for the software to be integrated, and then ship them back to Japan. The extra time and shipping cost are significant."
Nakanishi shook his head, realizing that over the years, every game Taito produced would incur anti-piracy fees to Seagame — a substantial sum. If they could have a license instead, they could develop their own system and never pay again.
Indeed, just as Lin worried, Nakanishi had hoped to develop anti-piracy software and saw nothing wrong with that.
Lin said, "The price can be negotiated — it doesn't have to be $300. But if your company isn't willing to cooperate, there's no point in continuing this discussion."
"Mr. Lin, I need to think this over and discuss it with my team," Nakanishi said after a pause. He could not decide alone whether or not to cooperate, or under what terms.
"That's reasonable."
Lin nodded. It was normal for Nakanishi to report back before finalizing a sudden collaboration.