Video Game Tycoon in Tokyo-Chapter 804: Solving a Difficult Problem

Ayari Hayasawa handed a controller to Takayuki, and he began to operate it skillfully.

The familiar game selection screen, the familiar character interface—everything looked almost identical to the original world's Switch.

Of course, that was based on the design plan Takayuki had originally proposed. With his clear direction, the engineers responsible for system development didn't need to spend too much time.

"This system is still in its early version, so there are probably quite a few bugs. But I've already got my team testing its stability. As for the versatility you kept emphasizing, we've more or less achieved that. Now, running old games from FC, SFC, and GS1 on this is no problem.

However, some games developed by third parties show some small issues. A few of those could even become potential stability risks. That's actually the main reason I wanted you to come and see this—I need you to decide."

"What kind of instability are we talking about?"

Tsukino Aya looked at one of the engineers beside her. "You explain. You're the one who developed the system and debugged the chip with the manufacturer. You should know best."

"Alright," said a man in his late thirties, stepping forward.

Just from the man's hairstyle, Takayuki could tell he was a powerhouse.

Even in a company like Gamestar Electronic Entertainment, where work hours were regular and weekends off were guaranteed, someone with that kind of "hardcore developer haircut" had to be extraordinary. Takayuki couldn't help but feel a bit of respect.

"Hello, President. I'm the lead system developer. I used to work at the operating systems department of Morgan Group, so I've got some solid experience."

Ah, no wonder—he came from the strongest OS company.

Takayuki nodded, slightly enlightened.

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"Nice to meet you. I'm really glad to have you on our team."

The man got straight to the point. "President, about the instability issue—it mostly stems from the chip we chose."

"The chip?"

"Yes. You asked for versatility and ease of development. With that requirement, we worked back and forth with several chip giants. Eventually, only one met all your criteria, including thermal control and energy efficiency.

But because of its versatility and developer-friendly design, the chip is very open. Its data defenses are weak and can be easily bypassed. To put it plainly... it's easily hackable."

Hacking.

Now that was a familiar term.

In Takayuki's memory, hacked game consoles were something he encountered from a young age.

Back in his original homeland, China, legitimate games had almost no market at first.

Practically all the games he ever played growing up were pirated.

These pirated games didn't pay the original developers a single cent—pure freeloading.

For game developers, this was an enormous loss.

The more people playing pirated games, the bigger the loss.

Different countries take piracy more or less seriously, but developers can never completely avoid the threat.

Later, Takayuki proposed a workaround—lower the console's cost as much as possible.

Ideally, drop the price so low that even hackers couldn't be bothered.

For example, Gamestar Electronic Entertainment still had a production line making and selling FC consoles.

That thing had already sold over 400 million units—a true cockroach of the gaming world that wouldn't die.

No matter how many blockbuster consoles came out, none could beat the FC's sales.

Why? The price.

In Africa, an FC console plus a 30-in-1 cartridge costs less than $10 but can bring endless fun.

So FC was basically invincible to hacking efforts.

But other consoles... not so lucky.

They cost too much, and Takayuki couldn't turn every console into charity work.

Gamestar's anti-hacking measures were already maxed out.

Every console invested the most work into protection, right after supporting versatility.

Because if a console gets cracked too easily, it hurts the partners.

Sure, Takayuki might still make money from the hardware sales.

But if his partners couldn't recoup their costs—or worse, got burned by piracy—even the closest partners would lose faith.

So, out of respect for them, anti-hacking efforts had to continue.

Still, hacking wasn't the real problem.

Hacking is, in a sense, modifying the system—just like how Takayuki encouraged modding in his games. It's a form of user freedom.

Some just want more customization.

Like on the GSX, after it was cracked, many users only wanted to beautify the UI or create smoother, more personalized interfaces.

Everyone has different tastes.

You can't expect every player to like your system's default design.

As for game piracy—that's the real threat.

"But how easy is it to hack this console?" Takayuki asked.

"If you know anything about operating system programming, it's pretty easy."

Takayuki fell silent.

So much for versatility and easy development—they came with serious drawbacks.

His original goal was to make game development easier, especially for porting across platforms.

But now it seemed he'd dug himself a hole.

"Have you thought of ways to prevent hacking?"

"We have," the engineer said, "but they would compromise the versatility you asked for. From what I've seen, attackers can use the ports from older games to easily breach the system.

I haven't found a way to allow those games to run while still blocking exploits."