After the ZEPS 2 and ZGB farewell ads aired, players couldn't shut up about it, especially on the ZAGE forums. The threads multiplied so fast it felt like the whole site had turned into one giant memorial wall. People kept posting and reposting the same reactions, not because they had nothing else to say, but because the announcement hit a nerve.
Some were talking about how ZEPS 2 was still one of the best consoles they'd ever owned, how the games felt simple in the best way, and how the 16-bit style had a clarity that never got old. Others were praising ZGB as truly iconic, the first proper handheld in this world, the machine that made it normal to bring games outside the living room. Players shared stories about playing on long trips, hiding under blankets at night, or trading cartridges with friends at school. Even the smallest memories became worth posting once everyone realized the era was ending.
Of course, there were debates too. A loud group insisted ZEPS 2 was better than ZEPS 3, not because ZEPS 3 was bad, but because they loved the feel of simpler 2D games compared to ZEPS 3's 3D 64-bit era. They argued that ZEPS 2 games had tighter pacing, stronger sprites, and that special kind of charm where imagination filled in what hardware couldn't. Other fans pushed back, saying ZEPS 3 was the future, but even they admitted ZEPS 2 had a unique soul that couldn't be replaced.
Still, the biggest praise wasn't just nostalgia. Players respected what ZAGE was doing. ZAGE didn't treat ZEPS 2 like a forgotten step on a ladder. They gave it a proper farewell, just like they did with ZEPS 1 a few years back. People called it "ZAGE-level stuff," because only ZAGE could announce seventeen farewell games across two systems without it feeling like a cash grab.
And from what the previews showed, these weren't garbage titles made to squeeze money from fans. The games looked decent. Some looked genuinely exciting. Even better, a few were sequels or continuations of famous ZAGE IPs, the kind of surprises that made the farewell feel like a celebration instead of a funeral. In the end, that's why the forums wouldn't calm down.
It wasn't only about consoles retiring. It was about ZAGE proving, once again, that they knew how to turn an ending into an event.
Then there was the one reveal that turned the forum into pure chaos: the Z-Man sequel. Choujin Sentai Z-Man was one of ZAGE's early-day legends, back when ZAGE still worked together with TOEI by renting the sentai rights and turning that energy into a real action game on ZEPS 1. History always placed it near the very top of the system's library. People argued about the ranking, but the debate usually ended with two names: Choujin Sentai Z-Man and Super Mario Bros 3. That was the level.
Z-Man wasn't only loved because it was sentai. It was loved because it played like a dream. Clean controls, flashy combat, and that tokusatsu flavor that made every stage feel like an episode you could control. In Japan especially, the fanbase never died. Players kept replaying it, trading tips, and treating old cartridges like treasure. And everyone knew Zaboru himself loved tokusatsu. He never hid it. That only made the demand louder.
But for years, there was nothing. No sequel on ZEPS 2. No announcement on ZEPS 3. Just silence. Seven or eight years passed, and fans still begged, over and over, in magazines, at events, and most of all on the ZAGE forums. Some people even turned it into a running joke, like Z-Man 2 was a myth that would never become real—even though ZAGE now held the full tokusatsu rights, there still wasn't a direct sequel.
And then, boom. In the farewell lineup of all places, ZAGE dropped it like a final punchline and a final gift at the same time: Choujin Sentai Z-Man 2. A long-waited sequel, maybe even a late one, but still the sequel fans had been asking for since they were younger. The moment the title appeared, players went wild. Threads exploded, caps lock screamed, people posted the same screenshot like it was proof of a miracle. For a farewell announcement, it didn't feel like an ending anymore.
It felt like ZAGE had just opened a door everyone thought was sealed forever.
With ZAGE now holding the full Super Sentai rights, fans expect this sequel to be another masterpiece—one that finally gives the Z-Man faithful everything they've waited for.
Time passed, and soon it was already 20 December 1999—the day the ZAGE ZGB and ZEPS 2 farewell bundles finally hit stores. And just like everybody expected, they sold like hotcakes, as if the country had been starving for one last excuse to celebrate the old era.
Part of it was the value. For a total bundle price that felt like a steal for the time, players could get all seventeen farewell games across ZGB and ZEPS 2 in one purchase. People did the math immediately, because a single title usually cost 4.000 to 5.000 yen on its own. Compared to that, the farewell packs felt less like a product and more like a final gift.
But the real surprise was something ZAGE didn't even mention in the ads.
Inside every box, there was original artwork by Zaboru himself.
It wasn't a small bonus either. The cover art looked like a celebration poster, showing many ZAGE IP characters together, not fighting, not posing like marketing models, but gathering to respect the machines that carried them. The ZGB bundle box had Mario, Sonic, Kirby, Donkey Kong, Pikachu, Squirtle, Bulbasaur, and Charmander, with other ZAGE characters in the background, waving as if ZGB was a tired hero finally allowed to rest.
And the ZEPS 2 artwork went even harder. Spawn. RoboCop. Ryu from Street Fighter. Ryu Hayabusa. Terra Bradford. Bill Rizer and Lance Bean and others. All of them standing in a line, giving a clear salute to ZEPS 2 as it retired, like veterans honoring a battlefield that shaped their legends.
The artwork was so cool that it didn't just make fans happy, it made them want to buy the packs even more. For collectors, it instantly turned the farewell bundles into something you didn't just play—you kept. Something you displayed. Something you looked at years later and remembered exactly what it felt like when ZGB and ZEPS 2 took their final bow.
And sure enough, the next wave hit immediately: insane queues and hot demand everywhere. In some stores, people lined up before opening, wrapping around corners like it was a console launch day. Staff had to put up handwritten limit signs, and buyers started calling friends to reserve copies the moment they heard stock was low. By the end of the first day, the farewell packs were almost sold out.
The very next day, on 21 December 1999, the FAMICOM Game of the Year event was held. It was the annual awards show hosted by Zemitsu's reviewers in Japan, in collaboration with Compute X in the USA. The event had been running for years and was usually scheduled after ZAGE's end-of-year showcase, but this year was different. Zaboru requested that FAMICOM GOTY start earlier, and so the ceremony moved up to 21 December 1999.
Now the event ran as usual. The stage lights were bright, the crowd loud, and the show moved from category to category with quick highlights from the year's biggest games. There were plenty of strong releases from many developers, and you could feel the room reacting differently depending on the nominee. Some trailers got polite applause. Others got real cheers.
Still, ZAGE took plenty of awards, and it wasn't hard to understand why. Their output this year was simply overwhelming. In total, ZAGE released over 42 games. Yeah, it was insane. Twenty-five of those were new releases across ZEPS 3, PC, and Arcade, while the other seventeen came from the ZEPS 2 and ZGB farewell lineup. Even if you ignore the farewell packs, the number of major projects ZAGE pushed out in one year was enough to make other developers stare like they were watching a different industry.
In the audience, you could see the reactions. Some people respected it. Some looked annoyed. Some looked exhausted just hearing the number out loud. The truth was that ZAGE's volume alone gave them more chances to hit big, but it wasn't only quantity. Most of their games had real polish, real identity, and real audience appeal, which made the awards feel less like a guaranteed sweep and more like a confirmation of what everyone already knew.
Even so, the night wasn't only about ZAGE. Other companies still won important categories, and those wins felt meaningful precisely because ZAGE was always looming in the background. When another developer took a trophy, the applause sounded louder, like the crowd understood how hard it was to earn spotlight in a year dominated by a giant.
And then came the main event: GOTY 1999.
This year's nominee list was unusually tight. There were six games in total—four from ZAGE, one from Sonaya, and one from Akaishidan. Just seeing those names side by side made the room buzz, because it was rare for anyone to stand on the same "final page" as ZAGE.
Sun Knight 5 (Game Station - Sonaya)SSS - Steel Shinobi Striker (ZEPS 3 - Akaishidan)Hitman - Agent 47 : Blood Money (PC - ZAGE)Toy Story (ZEPS 3 - ZAGE)GTA (ZEPS 3 - ZAGE)Super Shot Football (ZEPS 3 - ZAGE)
Even before the envelope came out, people were already arguing in whispers. Some said Sun Knight 5 had the heart, the story, and the perfect score energy that could break through ZAGE's usual wall. Others insisted Hitman would win, because it was the kind of PC title that made critics feel like they were witnessing a new standard—cold, clean, and confident.
The other nominees had their own supporters too. Toy Story had broad appeal and polish that made it easy to recommend to anyone. GTA was the loud contender, the one that got people talking about freedom and chaos in the same breath with contorversies as well. Super Shoot Football was the "crowd" nominee, the title that didn't need critics to survive because everyone had already played it at a friend's house. And SSS - Steel Shinobi Striker carried that special kind of respect, its often being said as "Ninja Armored Core" and its mean really cool.
Zaboru himself attended the event, which only intensified the tension. Some people wondered if the room would dare to give the award to someone else while he was present, and others wondered if Zaboru actually wanted someone else to win—because a real rival victory was the kind of thing that kept the industry alive.
Then the announcer stepped forward.
"And the Game Of the Year 1999 award comes to…" The announcer looked down at the envelope, drew out the pause just long enough to hurt, and let the silence stretch until the entire hall felt like it was holding one shared breath. He lifted his eyes again, smiling like he enjoyed the tension, then finally said, "Sun Knight 5 from Sonaya!"
For a split second, there was a stunned beat—like the room needed one moment to confirm it had heard correctly—then everything exploded into sound. Cheers rose from every corner, chairs scraped, hands clapped hard enough to sting. Some people whistled, others shouted the name like it was a goal at a stadium.
Even Zaboru clapped, calm but genuine, and it was obvious he thought it was deserved. He wasn't forcing the gesture for cameras. He was applauding as a player. A few heads turned toward him, as if to measure his reaction, and when they saw him smiling, the mood only grew louder.
Hikaru Kurata grinned in his seat, the kind of grin that broke through years of pressure. He didn't jump up. He didn't shout. He just sat there with bright eyes, like he was afraid the moment would vanish if he moved too fast. For Sonaya, it was the first time since the GOTY had been held years ago that they actually won it. And it wasn't only a trophy. It was proof that the wall could crack. Proof that ZAGE's shadow didn't cover every stage forever.
The camera followed Junpei Hoshida as he stood, adjusted his jacket, and walked toward the stage. The applause chased him the whole way, rising again when he reached the steps and accepted the trophy. He took it with both hands, bowed once to the crowd, then leaned toward the microphone.
Junpei Hoshida began to speak.
"First of all, this is the result of hard work. Not one person's effort. Not one department. Everyone." Junpei looked out across the hall, then lowered his gaze to the trophy like he was confirming it was real. "Our CEO, Hikaru Kurata, never gave up on us, even after repeated losses against ZAGE. And remember, Sonaya isn't a small studio. We're a massive global company. When we fail, the fall is loud. When we lose confidence, it spreads through every floor of the building."
He lifted his head again, voice steady. "But our team kept working even when it felt grim. When people doubted. When it felt like we were running after a shadow that always moved faster than us. We didn't quit. We kept polishing. We kept rewriting. We kept testing. We kept telling ourselves that one day we would ship something we could stand behind with pride."
Junpei breathed out a small laugh, softer this time. "Honestly, I think tonight proves we've entered a new chapter for Sonaya. We won't rush anymore. We won't chase headlines just to say we did. We'll focus on quality, on identity, on making games that feel complete, instead of trying to copy ZAGE's pace."
He glanced toward the audience, almost like he was sharing a private joke with everyone who understood the industry. "I mean, come on. This year ZAGE released a total of 42 games. Forty-two. Even if you combine all other developers, it isn't close. That's not a race you win by sprinting harder. That's a race you lose by breaking your legs."
Junpei tightened his grip on the trophy. "So we're choosing realism now. We'll be patient. We'll build our foundation. We'll keep trying to be better, one release at a time. And if we earn another moment like this in the future, it won't be luck. It will be because we learned how to do things the right way."
The crowd clapped, and then Junpei continued.
"And I also want to say a special thanks to Zaboru Renkonan. Yeah, the weird guy and the bad businessman who still cheers for us." Junpei's mouth twitched like he knew half the audience was already laughing. "Even when we were low, when the mood inside our own building felt heavy, he came to us and said, 'Don't you dare give up!' Not as a rival trying to humiliate us. Not as an executive pretending to be polite. He said it like a gamer who wanted the fight to stay interesting."
Junpei lifted the trophy slightly, then lowered it again, choosing his next words carefully. "It's really weird, because he owns ZAGE and he's our biggest competitor. In a normal industry, you'd expect that kind of person to stay silent, or to enjoy watching us struggle. But Zaboru doesn't think like that. He doesn't only measure companies by market share. He measures them by whether they can still make something worth playing."
He nodded toward the audience. "And we all know he's a gamer first. That's why his praise hits different, and that's why his encouragement matters more than it should. So yes, I want to thank Zaboru-san for that. For treating us like creators instead of targets, and for reminding us that if we can stand up and make a great game, then we still deserve a place on this stage."
Junpei smiled, and his voice turned a little more playful, like he was letting the formal speech loosen into something honest.
"For me, as long as Zaboru-san is around, the video game industry will never be boring," he said, letting the crowd react. "But as ZAGE's competitor, we can't just sit still either. We shouldn't idle. We should keep pushing and keep challenging ZAGE."
He lifted the trophy slightly, then looked out into the seats as if he was searching for a familiar face. "That's what you want, right, Zaboru-san? You want us to keep swinging… right, Zaboru-san?"
Junpei's gaze landed on Zaboru's seat, and the audience followed his eyes. What made people smile was that Zaboru wasn't in a VIP row at all. He wasn't surrounded by executives, and he wasn't hidden behind a wall of bodyguards. He was sitting casually among the normal audience, like he genuinely preferred it there, laughing and clapping like any other fan.
And it wasn't only because he liked the atmosphere. There was a practical reason too: Zaboru didn't want to be easy to grab. If he sat in the front, the staff would keep calling him to the stage, especially when ZAGE won a category. He hated that. He didn't want to walk up and accept trophies like a king collecting taxes. If a ZAGE game won, he wanted the developers to go up, the directors and artists and programmers who actually bled for the project. Let them hold the spotlight. Let them bow. Let them speak.
That was why even the event holders never knew exactly where he would sit. Zaboru treated it like a small game of hide-and-seek, and he loved it. He had even told the organizers, half serious and half joking, "Don't find me. I'm around, but don't find me."
So when Junpei called him out, the room reacted like it had been given a fun mission.
everyone clapped and turned to find him. When they spotted him, the hall buzzed again, and Zaboru shot up just enough to be seen.
Zaboru shouted from his seat, "THAT'S RIGHT! AND YOU ARE VERY COOL, SONAYA!"
His signature line hit the room like a spark. The crowd burst into laughter, the kind that spreads instantly, and even Junpei had to pause at the microphone with a grin before continuing.
And just like that, GOTY 1999 became one of the most memorable ceremonies people could remember, because the biggest award didn't go to ZAGE.
Next week would be the ZAGE End of the Year event, and the hype was already building.
To be continue
Please give me your power stone and if you want to support me and get minimum 35+ advance chapter and additional 1 chapter a week for 4$ considering subscribe to my patreon patreon.com/Zaborn_1997
Or buymecoffee https://buymeacoffee.com/Zaborn_1997 which same with patreon
current Patreon/buymecoffe chap 1068
Also Join my discord if you want https://discord.gg/jB8x6TUByc