Video Game Tycoon in Tokyo-Chapter 950: The New ’Lipstick’

Takayuki suddenly asked an out-of-the-blue question.

Someone quickly responded,

"It refers to how, during economic downturns, lipstick sales increase, because even when the economy's bad, people's desire to consume doesn't necessarily decrease."

This was common knowledge in economics—and Takayuki, though not an expert, was aware of it too.

He nodded and said,

"Exactly. Now what I want to say is—video games can be the 'lipstick' of this industry."

"President, compared to lipstick, triple-A video games these days cost too much to make. Without high prices, it's hard to turn a profit."

Takayuki shook his head.

"I'm not suggesting we change the price of new games. That's not the point. The thing about lipstick is—there's not just one brand or one price point. And the same should be true for games."

"You mean..."

"What I'm saying isn't complex. In fact, we've already been doing this—just not aggressively enough. Now, if we want to guarantee profitability, we need to go all in."

"President..."

"Let's launch limited-edition consoles."

"What?"

Takayuki stood up and walked over to a blackboard near his desk.

"We need more limited-edition consoles. Right now, our player base is reaching saturation, and our next-gen consoles won't launch until at least two years from now. So what can we do in the meantime?"

Everyone fell into thought.

Takayuki continued,

"For players with disposable income, limited-edition consoles are collectibles. Many of them can't resist. These act as the gaming industry's version of lipstick—a small luxury, but irresistible. And this is just one of the 'lipsticks' I'm planning."

In his heart, Takayuki carried a bit of personal sentiment behind this idea.

In his original world, he and his father had collected dozens of limited-edition consoles—PS4s, Xboxes, Switches, 3DS systems, and more.

That collection helped ignite his passion for games.

But now, those machines were useless—lost to the other world.

He deeply wanted to see new limited consoles in this world.

Just think about it—he and his father owned multiple versions of each system. For casual players, that made no practical sense. Every system ran the same games.

The only difference was the shell, authorized and redesigned by the official brand.

Still, the manufacturers made a fortune from collectors like them.

And in his original world, there were plenty of people with tastes and spending habits just like his.

Video game collecting had become a significant niche.

Take the Switch, for example—selling over 100 million units didn't mean there were 100 million unique owners. Many people owned multiple Switch consoles.

These internal stats were never publicized. Companies simply bragged that they had sold over 100 million consoles.

Takayuki continued:

"Next, I'll set up a small new department focused on designing limited-edition consoles themed after our recent and upcoming games."

"We could even add console customization features—give players more ways to personalize their systems. These are all value-added extensions of the gaming experience."

"Oh—and actually, now that I think of it, we could also release some retro consoles."

Suddenly, an idea struck him:

The Famicom.

The beginning of everything for him in this world.

Even after 20+ years, the Famicom still had a production line churning out a million units per year, providing a cheap, fun gaming experience globally.

Of course, the modern Famicom had undergone multiple iterations. It used newer storage devices and upgraded circuitry, which brought the cost down even further.

Now, it was dirt cheap.

Even in remote regions like South Africa, the total cost per unit was under $3.

Games for it? Just find a Wi-Fi connection and download.

Bundles of dozens of Famicom games often sold for $5–10, and they sold very well.

Originally, Takayuki hadn't planned to monetize the Famicom heavily.

But players genuinely loved the product and were willing to spend. While the console itself had little profit margin, the bundled games brought in several million dollars a year in revenue.

For a company the size of Gamestar Electronic Entertainment, that wasn't a huge figure.

Still, it was notable that only Gamestar could pull this off. Other companies couldn't replicate the scale and distribution power to make something like the Famicom a success.