Masanobu Endo x Shigesato Itoi – 1985 Interview

Masanobu Endo - President of Game Studio, established in August 14, 1985. Five employees. True to its name, the company aims to be a studio: a place where staff can participate as artists, transcending the roles of mere software engineers or developers. Initially focused on developing arcade games (their first title is scheduled for release next spring, distributed by Namco), they also plan to develop Famicom software and expand into publishing and music production.

Shigesato Itoi - Born 1948 in Gunma Prefecture. Dropped out of Hosei University. Worked at the advertising agency Something for five years before going freelance. Won the Tokyo Copywriters Club (TCC) Newcomer Award in '75, the TCC Club Award in '82, and the TCC Special Award in '83. He has written lyrics for hit songs like TOKIO and Harusaki Kobeni, created original comic stories, worked as a disc jockey, and hosted NHK Educational TV's "YOU." He is the author of numerous books including The Penguin's Passionate Meal, The Penguinist Never Sleeps, I Hate Lies, There Were Cows, There Were People, Can We Understand Each Other by Talking?, and We Are Noise. Recently, he has been spreading his teachings nationwide through The Manryu Copywriting School (serialized in Weekly Bunshun).

Itoi: So I hear you left Namco?

Endo: I established a new company, Game Studio, this past August. Last June, when I appeared on YOU (NHK Educational), you said, "Why not go freelance?" That really helped me make up my mind.

Itoi: I'd like to know the background behind your decision to go independent.

Endo: Well, Namco has around 1,000 employees, right? They're one of the biggest players in the game software industry. And in large organizations, it's common that individual strengths don't get fully utilized, and things aren't flexible.

Itoi: Yup, yup, I know what you're talking about.

Endo: It's not that I was particularly dissatisfied with my salary, but after getting married, my savings started dwindling. It was weird. I should be making good money, so why was I eating into my savings?

Itoi: I'm betting the company wouldn't reimburse you for "personal" resources, right?

Endo: Exactly. To get ideas for games, I'd buy up other media like records, videos, and laserdiscs. I understand the company didn't want to give me a blank check, but you need what you need, you know? So after complaining about it to people at my office and getting nowhere, I decided to go straight to the president and hash it out.

Itoi: So what did he say?

Endo: He said, "What? Is that all you're getting paid?" (laughs) Our president is understanding towards the people working in the trenches. But when I really thought about it, my desire to go independent wasn't just about the money.

Itoi: I see. When you went to speak with him, you'd already made up your mind then.

Endo: Confronted face to face, there was ultimately one point the company wouldn't budge on: "the copyright of your games belongs to Namco."

Itoi: Hmm, well, that's probably something essential for Namco's business, after all.

Endo: Well, fundamentally, they're an electronic equipment manufacturing company.

Itoi: And they'd need software to go with that, right?

Endo: Exactly. That's where our thinking (referring to the developers who joined Endo's new company) fundamentally differed.

Itoi: But you two didn't actually fight, did you?

Endo: Of course not.

Itoi: Fighting would've been pretty lame.

Endo: Namco also invested 30% of the capital in Game Studio. They've supported our activities as much as possible.

Itoi: So how's it going since you became independent?

Endo: It's actually allowed me to lose weight. It feels like I've finally succeeded at dieting.

Itoi: Wow, that's great! (laugh) By the way, why do software developers tend to get so fat?

Endo: Corporate programmers are like factory chickens. They clock in at 9 or 10 AM sharp, right? They sit there staring at their monitors until the lunch bell rings, then they go eat lunch. They work until the evening, have a fancy dinner since they have no other outlet for fun, and then do overtime.

Itoi: I see, so it's all about the schedule.

Endo: Since starting my own company, I've been doing things like running errands before lunch or taking walks to clear my head. I feel like the excess fat has melted away.

Itoi: Running a company must cost a lot of money.

Endo: Yup, I've definitely felt that. You have to rent an office, get a phone line, desks, chairs, equipment…

Omorita Fukashi (appearing today as Endo's companion. Slightly excited to meet his idol): Ah, um, I handled the accounting and such, but um, yeah, you'd laugh if you saw it. Everything just costs so much.

Endo: Sorry, he's just hyped up being a fan of yours, Itoi. But our case is a little different. Our accountant said it's easy because we barely have any inventory expenses.

Itoi: But you started your own business because you figured you could run it for a year with your own funds, right? Young people today have it good—they can make a living like this. Back in the day, there was no guarantee whether you could actually support yourself doing work you loved.

Endo: I don't know if it's happiness or unhappiness, but somehow, I can get by.

Itoi: You gotta have desires, right? (laughs) But I've got this theory: the most dangerous thing isn't money, it's women. You know my theory? It's "women will be the downfall of the New Humans."1 What these so-called "New Humans" spout is incredibly abstract, and I reckon if they fall for a woman, they'd just crumble to pieces.

Endo: Is this the lead-in to a dirty joke…?

Itoi: No, I don't mean sexually. I'm talking about what "women" symbolize. You could call it a certain sensibility, I suppose. It's about getting tripped up by the irrational: things that can't be reduced to numbers, or things that can't be proven.

Endo: Destroyed by women, huh. Hmm, come to think of it, there are tons of stories about brilliant programmers getting destroyed by women.

Itoi: Well, compared to fiddling with numbers, I mean… I won't say "pussy," but that stuff is bound to be more interesting, especially for young guys in their twenties.

Endo: I get it. It's something you have to overcome though. You know why? Because talented programmers sometimes hit this trance-like state, and when that happens, they suddenly become capable of inhuman feats. But when they get a girlfriend, that vibe seems to disappear.

Itoi: When a woman says, "I want you to come over at 5 o'clock," she really wants you to come at 5 o'clock. You can't exactly say, "Sorry, I'm in a trance right now."

Endo: But some programmers seem to be the type who genuinely don't care if they're unpopular with women.

Itoi: I know those guys. Imagine there's a big party and flyers pasted all over town about it. Those are the kind of guys who'd say something like, "Oh, I didn't see the flyers for the party because I was looking down the whole time."

Endo: Hmm, maybe you're right.

—What Endo-san is pointing to are people who've gone beyond being stoicism and become like hermits.

Endo: When you talk to game developers, they'll often say, "working at the foot of Mt. Fuji would be perfect." I, on the other hand, have the opposite mindset—I think high-rises in Nishi-Shinjuku or Harajuku are great.

Itoi: It's that spirit of seeking "the Way", right? You could call it the Kitaro school. (laughs) That kind of asceticism isn't limited to the digital field; it's been around since ancient times. There was even an era when "suppressing consciousness" was considered beautiful. People like that were called "the victorious ones." And those who suppressed something until it burst out and killed them were called "those who died young." Those who persevered until death were called "those who stubbornly stuck to their principles their whole lives." It's a kind of stoicism, you see.

But that kind of repressive power cannot create things that appeal to people. It's very handy for leading people in the wrong direction though. It's incredibly useful for steering people down dangerous paths.

Endo: I can't get that heavy.

Itoi: I mean, on the other hand, pretending to be a gloomy kid is always easy. If I act cheerful, people call me out on it right away. (laugh)

Endo: I get that. I call guys who deliberately act gloomy “pretend gloomy types.” You see a lot of them among programmers.

Itoi: If you stay quiet, you don't have to answer questions. Guys who can't improvise probably gravitate toward that gloomy direction so they don't have to improvise.

—Is that why PC games never have breakthroughs?

Itoi: Simply put, it's largely because lonely young men are programming. The creator's perspective is very one-on-one and confrontational.

Endo: Yeah, that's definitely part of it.

Itoi: They have no concept of wowing the crowd, you know? It's all about this one-on-one showdown between programmer and player through the screen! I hate that kind of thing. That's why the game I play most on Famicom right now is Baseball. You can play it with other people. I'm doing a league with Ishii from the office and illustrator Jun Miura.

Endo: Sounds fun. Let me join your league, please.

Itoi: Nah, no pros allowed. (laughs)

—Could we wrap things up now?

Itoi: Sure thing. Getting back to Endo's dramatic tale of independence, the copyright issue looms large. Long story short, maybe you might have been better off holding Namco stock.

Endo: Hah. But I was being stubborn about it myself.

Itoi: Young people, because they aren't recognized enough, tend to push back and assert their individuality. By the way, what if one of the staff at your new company, say one of the programmers, demanded copyright over his work?

Endo: I'd probably give it to them.

Itoi: No, you absolutely can't do that. It defeats the whole purpose of working together, doesn't it? That's the big pitfall. A company that creates things collaboratively must first acknowledge the strength of its members and then figure out how to maintain the organization as a group entity. Otherwise, eventually, everyone will separately claim copyright to that game and it'll all fall apart.

Endo: We develop our games as a team, so we'll be fine.

Itoi: But that's exactly the problem right there. Someone will say, "This game was made by the team, but within the team, I'm really the one who made it." If someone exploits that and pulls everyone apart, it's over, right? So, Endo, as a manager your task is to come up with some kind of software to protect the software! I'm really counting on people like you from the software generation to create that system.

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