Takuya Nakayama sat in a corner seat at the back of the manufacturer's section, with a good view of the main stage but a safe distance away. To his left were representatives from Sony, and to his right, several staff members from Nintendo. He recognized one of them as the exhibition liaison, but the man didn't glance his way.
At precisely nine o'clock, an IDSA staff member stepped onto the stage and spoke into the microphone:
"Good morning, Los Angeles."
A scattering of responses came from the audience; most remained still.
"Welcome to E3, the Electronic Entertainment Expo."
Applause erupted, not particularly enthusiastic, but with a discernible sense of excitement.
"Today marks the first time the video game industry has its own dedicated exhibition. We are honored to witness this historic moment together." The staff member scanned the crowd. "Now, please join me in welcoming our opening guest, Mr. Shigeru Miyamoto from Nintendo."
The applause grew louder, more fervent than before.
Shigeru Miyamoto emerged from the left side of the stage.
Jeans, a dark blue polo shirt, plain leather shoes—no tie, no suit.
Compared to the neatly suited executives in the audience, his entrance made him look more like a factory worker who had stumbled in before the opening.
But the applause didn't stop. Every game developer in the world would recognize his face.
He walked to the microphone, leaned down to adjust its height, straightened up, glanced at the audience, and began.
"Hello."
Just two words, spoken with a slightly stiff, distinctly Japanese-accented English.
A wave of good-natured laughter rippled through the audience.
He smiled in return, switched to Japanese, and the translator beside him followed: "Hello, everyone. I'm Shigeru Miyamoto from Nintendo.
My English is... not very good, so I'll be speaking in Japanese from now on. Please use the translator to understand me. I apologize."
More laughter, this time louder, mixed with excited shouts.
Miyamoto waited for the laughter to subside before continuing.
"Before coming here today, my colleagues asked me how many pages of speech I had prepared. I said two. They thought it was too short and urged me to write more."
As the translator finished, someone in the audience chuckled.
"Later, I reconsidered and threw those two pages away."
The laughter grew louder, accompanied by thunderous applause.
Shigeru Miyamoto didn't rush to continue. He surveyed the audience, and the room fell silent.
"Standing here today, I see so many of you, from all over the world, gathered in one place for a single purpose." He paused. "To be honest, I didn't expect such a large crowd. I thought it would be a bigger conference hall, where everyone would be chatting over instant coffee while discussing their projects."
Someone in the audience chuckled.
"But now," he glanced toward the front row, "there's probably still coffee, just not here."
The laughter grew louder. Several reporters scribbled notes, and the red indicator lights on their cameras flickered on.
"This isn't my first convention, but today is different. This place, from its name to its content, belongs to games. Only to games."
He didn't use the words "historic moment" or "milestone." Yet after just that one sentence, the audience fell silent for two seconds before erupting in thunderous applause.
Three sentences had completely captured the room's atmosphere, yet there was no trace of forcedness.
As the applause subsided, Miyamoto's tone shifted, shedding the casual, teasing air.
He spoke like an ordinary person sharing something he had pondered deeply.
"At Nintendo, we never call what we make 'electronics'," he paused. "We make toys."
"A good toy doesn't need a manual. You pick it up, and without even thinking, you know how to play. Then, as you're playing, you discover more and more things on your own. That feeling of 'Oh, so it can do this too!'—that's what we want the game to give you."
The audience grew noticeably quieter.
A few reporters in the front row lowered their heads and scribbled in their notebooks.
"When we were developing Super Mario Bros., we spent a long time debating whether to have players run from left to right or right to left. Sounds silly, right?"
After the translator finished, the audience chuckled—a relaxed, knowing laugh.
"But we discussed it seriously for a long time. In the end, we decided on left to right because in most cultures, people's eyes naturally move from left to right. This way, players instinctively run to the right without being told."
As he spoke, his gaze drifted vaguely in one direction, not directly at the cameras or deliberately sweeping the room, as if he were truly lost in thought.
"This experience made me realize that every detail in a game is speaking to the player's instincts. When done well, players don't notice the design at all—they just feel the fun. But when done poorly, players can sense the creators' deliberate choices hidden within the game, and at some point, they'll suddenly put their controllers down."
On stage, Shigeru Miyamoto's words alternated between Japanese and translated English.
"Recently, we've seen many technically impressive games."
As Miyamoto said this, some in the audience perked up. Everyone knew what each company had brought to this year's E3, and when Miyamoto used the word "impressive," they all wanted to hear what would follow.
"Technology allows us to realize more and more of our imagination, and that's truly remarkable." He paused briefly. "But I have a small concern."
"About six years ago, I played some games that looked beautiful and had smooth animations, but the character controls felt sluggish. You'd press a button, wait for a beat, and only then would the character move." He paused again. "As a game, this is almost the most fundamental problem. Because the first thing players experience isn't the graphics—it's the controls and the immediate responsiveness."
Laughter rippled through the audience, tinged with agreement.
"Graphics will be surpassed. Technology will become obsolete. But the core responsiveness of a game—that split-second feedback when a player presses a button—will never lose its importance, regardless of the era."
"Moreover, what makes a game fun isn't just one such detail. It's the combination of countless engaging experiences."
He paused on stage, not rushing to continue.
"I often think a good game should be like a small space you can tuck away in a drawer. It doesn't need to be boundless, but it must contain something worth exploring. When you turn a corner and discover something unexpected, that's the feeling you're after."
"Don't always chase trends. Being honest about what you want to express is the key to creating great work. If everyone just copies the hottest games on the market, this industry will quickly become stagnant."
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