It's been 15 years since then, and to many of us it still feels like yesterday. Maybe that's because the Dreamcast was the first console of the sixth generation of consoles, when 3D gaming finally reached maturity, and technical limitations no longer oppressed the ambitions of game designers in the same way they once did. It was followed by the PlayStation 2, GameCube, and Xbox, a generation that felt a lot like an uglier version of today's gaming landscape.
More importantly, Dreamcast was the last stand of a once mighty hardware giant; the company that came from behind and toppled Nintendo's near-monopoly. After a crushing defeat in the 32-bit marketplace, SEGA underwent one of the most dramatic reinventions the gaming world has ever seen to the delight of newcomers and their loyal fans. It may not have been enough to turn the tides and escape the inevitable, but it was a brief moment of remarkable creativity that hasn't been recaptured since.
The Dreamcast didn't even last for half of a generation, but it left a legacy most systems would be proud of. Even a decade later, few systems can stir up emotions in their fans like SEGA's little white wonder.
IGN remembers the Dreamcast
When Bernie Stolar took over as CEO of SEGA of America in 1996, the company's outlook was grim. The PlayStation had quickly managed to devour a huge chunk of SEGA's core; the older, seasoned gamers that rejected Nintendo as "kiddie," and the sports fans that once bickered about Madden versus Montana. Meanwhile, Nintendo was arriving fashionably late to scoop up their fans with a dazzling new Mario game. SEGA had managed to hold on to hardcore arcade fans, but this audience was rapidly shrinking as the arcade market entered a tailspin from which it has never recovered."I thought the Saturn was a mistake as far as hardware was concerned," remarked an unrepentant Stolar. "The games were obviously terrific, but the hardware just wasn't there." It's true that the Saturn was a needlessly complex piece of kit that lacked the ingenuity that made SEGA such a leader in arcade hardware. During the move to CD-based media and 3D environments, development costs were already rising sharply, and the thought of programming for a system with two CPUs and two graphics processors was not an appealing prospect.
While some would have chosen to fight the uphill battle, Stolar was far more concerned with the big picture. He truly did want to see SEGA rise again, but he knew the future wouldn't be Saturn. "I was one of the individuals who fought to discontinue Saturn as a platform," he admits. That decision was a heartbreaking one for Saturn fans, and it effectively left the western console markets without any SEGA games for over a year.
But fans couldn't see what was growing inside the cocoon. Stolar's decision wasn't made because he resented the Saturn, it was because he knew that the next system would have to hit the ground running. Rather than divide their development teams up between a lost cause and their last chance, he put all of the chips on Dreamcast.
Stolar claims that this was also the intent of SEGA of Japan CEO Hayao Nakayama. "We spoke about building a new hardware platform that I would be very, very involved with," he remembers. "I would shape the direction of this platform and hire a new team of people and restructure Sega." Mr. Stolar says software was his first priority, but as an outspoken critic of the Saturn, he knew the hardware and the games needed to go hand-in-hand.
It's no secret that SEGA of Japan let their pride interfere with their judgment in the 32-bit era. They passed on deals that could have landed them some version of the hardware behind both the PlayStation and the Nintendo 64, but instead went with a Frankenstein machine of mostly stock chips that was ugly to program for. They had ignored the urgings of SoA CEO Tom Kalinske and the American head of R&D Joe Miller, and they paid dearly for it.
This time, they established two separate teams to develop their next machine. IBM's Tatsuo Yamamoto led the American project, codenamed Katana, which featured the American-made 3Dfx Voodoo chipset that had revolutionized the PC gaming market. In Japan, a team headed by Genesis designer Hideki Sato worked diligently on Dural, with parts supplied by Japanese giants Hitachi and NEC. NEC's PowerVR hadn't quite taken over the desktop market like 3Dfx had, but both systems proved to be worthy adversaries.
The Japanese system won out, but this time it was a righteous victory. While some claim this was a result of a tiff with 3Dfx over publicly announcing the collaboration before the ink was dry, that incident was just one more nail in the coffin. Executives on both sides of the Pacific were convinced that Dural was the better system. While the Saturn lagged behind the older Model 2 arcade hardware, this new system was truly top of the line, easily capable of outpacing the once-mighty Model 3. To capitalize on this, they created the NAOMI board, an arcade version of the new system that packed economy, power, and interchangeable games. This meant, for the first time, Sega's system would be able to deliver a true arcade-at-home experience virtually indistinguishable from their most popular arcade board.
Stolar also wanted to make the Dreamcast the first console ever to be online-ready out of the box, but this was a vision not shared by the execs in Japan. Online gaming was rapidly rising in importance in America. Ultima Online took massively multiplayer gaming to a new level of commercial success, and 1999 would see the release of online breakthroughs like EverQuest, Quake III: Arena, and Unreal Tournament. The timing was perfect for SEGA to be on the cutting edge. Stolar persuaded the powers at SEGA of Japan to not only support online gaming, but include a modem with each and every system. It had never been done before, and it would be quite a while before the competition would catch up.
Of course, the software was just as important, and this is where Stolar's diligence would pay off. It was heartbreaking to see resources diverted away from the Saturn, but this is because we couldn't see where they were going at the time. Yuji Naka's Sonic Team reclaimed SEGA's mascot, rescuing him from the limbo he had been trapped in at Sega's American studio STI. Naka had never been happy about losing the blue blur while he pursued other projects, and imagined an ambitious return to grace for the series that would finally give SEGA their long overdue answer to Mario 64.
SEGA also diverted one of their most ambitious projects to their new hardware. Virtua Fighter architect Yu Suzuki had been working on an epic action-adventure initially planned as a spin-off of his famous fighting game. Shenmue quickly blossomed into something far greater, and it soon became apparent that it wouldn't arrive in time for the 32-bit generation. They started over, but the new hardware made the project that much more exciting. It wouldn't arrive in time for launch, however, so SEGA also contracted Genki to port Virtua Fighter 3 to their latest system.
The Dreamcast's Japanese launch was unspectacular. Arriving in the final weeks of fall, 1998, the release was plagued by shortages of NEC chipsets that limited systems to a trickle. The launch lineup left something to be desired as well. Virtua Fighter 3tb didn't look quite as good as its arcade counterpart, which was already a couple years old and never as popular as its predecessors. Godzilla Generations and Pen Pen Tri-Icelon both received poor marks, and hardly showcased the new system. Within a month, Sonic Adventure arrived to save Christmas for early adopters in Japan, but some of the damage had already been done. Fans and third parties alike resented SEGA for abandoning the Saturn while it still held a respectable chunk of the market, and the weak launch did little to change their minds.
The following summer, while Americans were still anxiously waiting for the next generation, the Dreamcast finally landed a surprise hit in Japan. Yoot Saito, best known for the cult classic Sim Tower, decided to capitalize on the still-recent virtual pet craze with a unique "life sim" called Seaman. Saito went against the grain of everything the genre stood for, and that somehow made it all the more appealing. Seaman was not cute – in fact, he was a grotesque chimera of man and fish – and he was anything but charming, but with the help of a microphone accessory and impressive speech recognition, the caustic critter could hold some pretty entertaining conversations. Although Seaman could barely be called a "game" in the usual sense, it proved to be Japan's first must-have title on the struggling system.
Coming to America
On our continent, a shabby debut would not do. SEGA gave themselves 10 months to get together a launch like the world had never seen. They would need quantity, quality, and visibility, and Bernie Stolar made sure they had them all with a well-rounded lineup to satisfy anyone. They poured everything they had into the system, knowing full well it would likely be their last chance. In the year before the DC's American debut, SEGA posted losses of $378 million, but it was an investment in their future.
In America, SEGA built their empire on the success of the Genesis' sports game lineup. Sony, in turn, had snatched that market away when they scooped up Electronic Arts. Stolar knew this well – in fact he was the one who had architected the deal back when he was with Sony. During that time, EA had contracted Visual Concepts to code the franchise's PlayStation debut, and while that edition was cancelled before it could see the light of day, Stolar remembered what he saw.
SEGA needed redemption in the sports arena and so did Visual Concepts, so at Stolar's behest they purchased the California-based developer for $10 million, to help them get a head start on developing a football game the world couldn't ignore. Of course the Madden name carried some clout, so Bernie also called up Larry Probst to see if they could renew their partnership and build the ultimate sports game platform.
EA was willing to play ball, but they struck a hard bargain. Stolar was used to this – while he was at Sony, EA had negotiated a license that was less than sixty percent of what competitors were paying. Unfortunately, the demands were too high this time around. EA wanted the exclusive right to develop sports games on the Dreamcast – and that included SEGA. With the Visual Concepts deal already locked up, SEGA chose to focus on their in-house efforts and take EA head-on. When EA answered, it seemed almost personal. They vowed never to release a game on the Dreamcast, and to "crush" SEGA with their next generation of Madden NFL.
EA's refusal to develop on the Dreamcast is remembered as one of the major reasons why it couldn't compete against the PlayStation 2. Despite this, it might be the area where SEGA was best equipped to take them on. Stolar remains confident to this day, boasting, "If you looked at NFL2K yourself, that game was better than Madden." Many fans and critics agreed.
The European market had long been kinder to SEGA than the either of the territories where their games were developed. The Master System survived in PAL territories for years after it had been dropped in the US and Japan, and they did even better in the 16-bit wars. For the first time, SEGA decided to establish a European studio – or rather to purchase one of the most creative developers in France, Adeline Software. Headed by Frederick Raynal, an icon of the industry, they became No Cliché, and they made it their mission to develop original games especially for the European market. Their run was short, but their debut, Toy Commander, is a game worth remembering.
Stolar also remembered how pivotal Mortal Kombat was during the PlayStation's first year, as well as during the 16-bit wars, so he courted Midway to make sure the Dreamcast would have its own Kombat for launch. The series had lost some of its luster since the series moved to 3D, but having an exclusive iteration (based on MK4) certainly wouldn't hurt. Midway pushed the DC launch as hard as they could, with a new version of NFL Blitz and a port of Hydro Thunder rounding out the lineup.
Japanese third party support was just as important. Capcom was already developing for the NAOMI in the arcades and their unique 3D fighter Power Stone seemed like a no-brainer for the American launch. Namco was a bit of a harder sell. They had done very well on Sony hardware, and still favored PlayStation-based boards in the arcades. Tekken was too big to hand over to SEGA, so they opted instead to spruce up their 32-bit arcade fighter Soul Calibur. Namco did this as a way of throwing SEGA a bone – the Soul series wasn't that popular at the time – but the Dreamcast version of their weapons-based fighter ended up being so successful that it elevated the brand to rival Namco's flagship.
Of course the centerpiece of the North American lineup was still Sonic Adventure. The mascot's big comeback was beginning to feel like an impossible task, but that just made the anticipation greater. After effectively sitting on the sidelines of the 32-bit generation, many were left wondering if Sonic could really make the jump to 3D. Mario had done it, but at the expense of much of the classic platforming he was known for. Sonic would have to work twice as hard to move to an open world while still maintaining his trademark flash and sizzle. Luckily, Sonic Team was up for the task.
The Dreamcast's launch was an event. SEGA poured $100 million dollars into advertising their new system, and before long there wasn't a gamer alive who wasn't aware of the new system arriving on 9/9/99. There were 17 games to accompany the new hardware, including enough critically acclaimed titles to make picking one a very tough decision. As the date drew near, Bernie Stolar – never popular with SEGA's fans – slipped into the background, and senior vice president of marketing Peter Moore took over as SEGA's mouthpiece. Before long, Stolar was gone and Moore was made SEGA of America's next CEO.
Moore approached the launch with a calm, collected rhetoric that reflected the excitement of the moment without the desperation. Despite that, we all knew what was at stake. If the Dreamcast couldn't make it, it would spell the end of SEGA as we knew them. But on September 9, Peter Moore was feeling pretty good. The system's first day not only destroyed all records for a videogame system debut, but for all of entertainment media. According to SEGA, the DC, its games, and its accessories had raked in more dollars than any opening day of a movie, album, or home video in history. SEGA seemed to be well on their way.
From the Inside Out
Having survived the 32-bit generation with precious few high-profile franchises, SEGA found itself in a difficult position. As a platform driven by first-party games, the DC needed some hits, but many of the best games of the Genesis era had faded from the spotlight, and a new Vectorman or Altered Beast simply couldn't stand up to likes of Metal Gear and Mario. A handful of their best properties were radically rethought, as Phantasy Star went online and Sonic went adventuring, but in order to stay competitive they needed some fresh ideas.
During the transition from the Saturn, SEGA restructured its massive development operation – both the "AM" arcade division and the "R&D" console studios – into smaller, semi-autonomous second parties. While still accountable to their parent, each studio was given an unprecedented amount of creative freedom to explore new ideas and new hardware. Where once these teams felt nearly anonymous, they now had banners to fly for all their fans to see, and it didn't take long for each studio to develop their own individual personalities and unique fan bases.
The new structure wouldn't last. When Sammy took over the company in 2003, they consolidated the studios once more, ensuring that this brief, creatively fertile moment would forever be tied to their last console. More than anything else, this is the Dreamcast's legacy. To remember the DC, we'd like to look back at a few of our favorite first-party studios.
United Game Artists
While most of SEGA's newly formed second parties were essentially just re-branded versions of the studios that had existed since the company's last shake-up in 1991,
United Game Artists was something new. Headed by Tetsuya Mizuguchi, former head of AM3 and producer of Sega Rally, "AM Annex" (as it was briefly called) was committed to bringing something different to SEGA's newest console.
UGA turned trite criticisms of "style over substance" into a badge of honor. Their short run proved just how far dazzling presentation could go. Their first title, Space Channel 5, was little more than a gussied up musical Simon Says game drawn from the template of Parappa the Rapper, but it won fans over on personality alone. Set in the distant future, it was funky, retro, and downright infectious.
Space Channel 5 looked something like 2001: A Space Odyssey if it had been designed by the architects of 60s dingbats. A sleek, day-glow exercise in populuxe style that was so tacky it was somehow hip. On center stage, Ulala, a sexy young "space reporter" in an oh-so-short vinyl hoop skirt, proved to be one of the most appealing vixens gamers had seen since Lara Croft.
The music, too, was defiantly retro, built around a little-known jazz composition by Ken Woodman called Mexican Flyer. Mizuguchi was not the least bit concerned with the latest trends, and the '60s-flavored tunes only complimented the googie imagery and groovy personality. All of this made for a product somehow greater than the sum of its parts. When the game released in 2000, IGN awarded it a 9.2, despite noting a lack of real gameplay substance.
The forward-thinking sound design of Space Channel 5 was just the beginning, though. Mizuguchi made it his goal to join sound and imagery in a way that was both meaningful and musical. Inspired by the painter Wassily Kandinsky, he made the theme of his next project synaesthesia; the mingling of senses. He wanted players to see and feel music being created all around them. This was the beginning of Rez.
At its core, Rez was a very simple game. Essentially a streamlined Panzer Dragoon, the gameplay consisted of moving a cursor to lock on to targets, which would then be destroyed by a homing shot. That was about it. All movement was strictly on rails, the camera locked straight ahead, and your weapon changed only in appearance. On paper, it looked downright boring, but the perfectly paced progression took players on a trip to the abstract that felt downright transcendental.
It started with just a horizon line and a pulse. Each lock-on was complimented by the click of an electronic snare, and when shots rang out, a melody echoed through the blackness, accompanied by explosions of color. The next wave added the dull thud of a bass drum and some simple geometry. Gradually the visuals and the music grow more and more complex, until the player is completely immersed in sights and sounds.
Nothing like it had ever been attempted. The musical element wasn't meaningful to the gameplay – there was no scoring incentive to play on the beat – and yet it was simply impossible to bob your head or tap your feet. The abstract, vaguely Tron-inspired visuals were distinctive and daring, but they somehow made sense as a visual representation of the game's techno tunes.
Rez was not much of a commercial success, and the Dreamcast version wasn't even released in North America, but its innovative sound design was some of the most influential in generations. Numerous games, from Everyday Shooter to Space Invaders Extreme have copied its synaesthetic ethos and abstract look, and even more mainstream games have emphasized dynamic music in a way they seldom did before.
Before the axe fell, UGA returned to where they had begun. The awkwardly named Space Channel 5 Part 2 was the ultimately realization of the original vision, taking the simplistic art project that was the first game, and expanding it into a full-fledged musical masterpiece. The lessons learned from Rez made their way into Ulala's world, but instead of abstraction, this time it was used to create interactive musical theater.
The first game was sorely limited by its pre-rendered backgrounds, streamed off of the disc. Not only did this mean the foregrounds and backgrounds were often slightly out of sync, it imposed a lot of practical limitations on how much could be going on. The real-time imagery of the sequel was not only more detailed and stylish, but also teeming with life.
The gameplay was virtually untouched. Apart from the addition of a second action button and the inclusion of hidden bonus spots, the gameplay hadn't changed a lick, but the presentation had been polished to such a degree that it elevated the game to a new level. Rescuing hostages added subtle and obvious layers to the music, and Ulala had to face off in instrumental and singing challenges, eventually culminating in a whole band (featuring "Space Michael" Jackson). Although it had only been a little over two years, UGA managed to make their original effort feel quaint.
United Game Artists never made another original game after the fall of the Dreamcast. After the Sammy merger, they were consolidated into Sonic Team, and Tetsuya Mizuguchi left to carry on his work with a new company, Q Entertainment. Although their games were all ported to the PlayStation 2, their legacy remains inextricably tied to the Dreamcast. Their spirit lives on in later Sonic Team games like Feel the Magic and Rub Rabbits, but they will never get their groove back entirely.
Hitmaker
Formed in 1991, SEGA's AM3 was established as one of the company's premier arcade studios, but enjoyed precious little credit while their senior sibling AM2 soaked up all the glory. They scored iconic hits of the 32-bit era with Sega Rally and Virtual On, and countless other classics of the early 3D era. When Tetsuya Mizuguchi left to start United Game Artists, they reformed under the leadership of Hisao Oguchi.
Although the new studios were given a bit more freedom, and no longer forced to focus strictly on arcade or console games, Hitmaker lost no love for the coin-op business. With the new NAOMI hardware, arcade and console went hand-in-hand. Their first project as a new company was an unassuming racing game that brought new life to one of the arcade's most overplayed genres.
In the rapidly declining arcade market of the late '90s, it seemed like light gun games, fighters, music games, and racers were all there were, and every one of those was growing predictable. SEGA had tried to mix things up in the racing arena with Emergency Call Ambulance and Harley Davidson and LA Riders, but both were multi-linear at best. Oguchi dreamed up a game that would combine the thrill of arcade racing with the open-endedness of the sandbox genre, well before it exploded into the mainstream.
Crazy Taxi eliminated traditional checkpoints, instead littering its open-ended city with any number of fares, each of which had their own destination in mind. It wasn't just a game of skill; choosing your fares took strategy. With exaggerated physics and a wacky west coast playground to drive in, it managed to combine San Francisco Rush, Outrun, and something entirely new into one polished pop-punk package.
Crazy Taxi quickly became a staple of arcades everywhere, and the conspicuous yellow cabinet served as a tantalizing teaser for the impending home version. Within a few months, Crazy Taxi arrived on Dreamcast in arcade-perfect form. The home port added an additional city, but not much else. Despite sticking close to its arcade roots with no broader story mode long version, the pick-up-and-play appeal was enough to make it one of the system's few million-sellers. It could rob hours a day, in small 15-minute chunks.
Hitmaker was earning their name, and their foray into the sports world proved no exception. Virtua Tennis took a swing at one of the simplest and most exhausted sports in videogaming, and single-handedly revitalized the genre. Tennis games had really, at their core, changed precious little since Pong. Virtua Tennis was uniquely successful for combining arcade simplicity and immediacy with a realism and subtlety that made it the best of both worlds. It could be taken seriously by fans of the sport, or played casually by someone who had never watched a match. It was one of the system's strongest sellers, and it earned a sequel not long after. Nintendo followed the next year with Mario Tennis, and many more soon jumped on the bandwagon.
They followed up Crazy Taxi in the arcades with Jambo! Safari, an open-ended game that combined driving with a lasso mechanic that felt like a fishing game. It never managed to achieve the same level of success, and never made it to Dreamcast. Instead, they made Crazy Taxi 2 exclusively for the DC, adding two new New York-inspired stages and a jump mechanic to the mix. The sequel was never regarded as highly as the original, but proved to be a strong seller all the same.
Hitmaker had some minor success with Confidential Mission, a light-gun game that combined James Bond and Virtua Cop, as well as a home port of their Virtual On sequel, but they never managed to recapture their earlier successes. But was in March, 2001, just as Dreamcast factories were shutting down forever, that they released perhaps their most memorable game.
Segagaga stands as one of the most oddly self-referential pieces of interactive art ever conceived. There's a sense of fatalism to it that seemed to show that SEGA knew the party was ending, and the end result was an absurdist fantasy of their triumph through the will of their fans. A blend of sim and RPG, it cast you as the leader of SEGA in a bizarre alternate reality where SEGA's characters are real, and corporations do battle in more than just the commercial arena. On the surface it seemed like SEGA's homage to itself, but it was a really a tribute to their fans. Was this Sega's way of saying goodbye?
Segagaga's outright weirdness and self-parody stands as a testament to the creative freedom of the Dreamcast era. When Tetsu "Tez" Okano approached Oguchi, his pitch was mistaken for a joke. The budget he was granted was small, but the project continued on as a labor of love, making the most of their meager resources, and letting the story speak for itself. While much of the development happened in the long shadow of Shenmue, it was clear by the end that their savior wasn't coming. Hitmaker consoled their fans as only they could. After the fictionalized version of SEGA closes its doors toward the end of Segagaga, the player meets Alex Kidd, working at a local game shop. The former mascot knows the pain of falling from grace, having once found himself tossed aside for a certain blue hedgehog. He explains how these changes are inevitable, and all great moments must end, but the important thing is to always look forward. It's both an affirmation of SEGA's fatalism, and very real lesson that we've all had to learn the hard way.
Smilebit
During the 32-bit wars, SEGA suffered a brutal defeat, but it certainly wasn't for lack of quality games coming out of the AM6 teams, including the venerable Team Andromeda, best remembered for the Panzer Dragoon series. After the Saturn's end, the teams as they were disbanded, but from the rubble came Smilebit, SEGA's new AM6 division. Shun Arai, a producer responsible for much of SEGA's PC output at the time, took over as head of the new team, and one of the Dreamcast's brightest stars was born.
Early on, Smilebit worked on adapting the output of other teams. They ported Sega Rosso's Sega Rally 2 from Model 3 to DC, giving the Dreamcast one of its premiere racing games early on. This was accompanied by a considerably weirder project, Typing of the Dead, a perversion of House of the Dead 2 where keyboards took the place of guns. It wasn't a huge hit, nor was it meant to be, but it showed the fledgling studio was thinking outside of the box.
It wasn't until their next game that the whole world would know the name Smilebit. Jet Set Radio made a splash when it premiered at the Tokyo Game Show in 1999. The 30 second video loop revealed precious little about the gameplay, but the graphics alone made it the talk of the show. Using a graphics technique called "cel shading," usually reserved for pre-rendered animation, it boasted 3D graphics looked like inked cartoon cels, with solid shading and bold outlines of varying length. Earlier games like Fear Effect had tried to fudge a similar look, but Jet Set Radio did it for real, and with more style and polish than anyone had seen.
By the time Jet Set Radio hit the market, other games were already trying to copy the technique. None could do it with half the flair of Smilebit. The graffiti-inspired aesthetic was like nothing seen before in 3D games, and it convinced a few diehard proponents of 2D art that realtime 3D was coming into its own artistically. The soundtrack was equally bold. Composed by newcomer Hideki Naganuma, the music was built almost entirely around densely layered samples. It was a funky hip-hop influenced style distinctive not only in the context of gaming, but music in general. To round out the soundtrack, Naganuma padded the track list with some of his favorite tunes from the Tokyo underground, including the indie rockers known as Guitar Vader.
This wasn't a case of style over substance, though. JSR was a unique take on the skating genre that completely ignored the influence of Tony Hawk's Pro Skater and earlier racing games. Instead, it stayed true to SEGA's arcade roots with action-based gameplay that challenged players to skate and grind their way to graffiti tags while avoiding police tanks and helicopters. There was a sense of refinement to the level design usually only reserved for arcade games where repeated plays matter most. This was a very polished game of the sort only SEGA could ever make.
Alas, it was never the hit SEGA had hoped it would be. An expanded version made its way to North America as Jet Grind Radio, but likewise suffered lackluster sales. Despite this, it was one of the best reviewed games SEGA ever released, earning at least 9/10 scores from nearly every major publication. Apart from a loose Game Boy Advance adaptation, Jet Set Radio was never ported to another system, and is now remembered as one of the best reasons to own a Dreamcast.
They followed with Hundred Swords, one of the most unexpected games to come out of SEGA during the DC era. It was an overtly western-style real-time strategy game; a genre Japan has traditionally avoided like we do dating sims. They contracted Yoshio Sugiura, a freelance illustrator with a unique western influence, to craft the game's characters and creatures, and the team created a colorful fantasy world unlike anything else.
Of course, Smilebit were hardly connoisseurs of the RTS genre, and Hundred Swords was at best a streamlined, easy-to-play RTS without many original ideas. In Japan, the genre, style, and story were enough to make it stand out, but SEGA declined to release it here until it made its way to the PC quite a bit later. By then, Warcraft III was on the market, and made Hundred Swords look downright quaint.
Having been crowned the new kings of style, they wanted to follow up JSR with something sporting a look they called "anime-dimension." They revealed Gunvalkyrie in 2000, a game purported to use both the controller and light gun in unison. Set in an alternate-reality 1906 where the British Empire battles alien insects, Gunvalkyrie was just as distinctive as JSR, without being overtly similar.
Their game suffered delay after delay, and it looked as if it might end up as one of the DC's last. One delay too many pushed even that possibility out of reach. Instead, it would be one of the Xbox's first, arriving about a month after the Japanese Xbox launch. Light gun support was scrapped, and the controls re-imagined in a way that only made sense with a dual analog controller. It's fair to say that the game we got was pretty far from the game we missed.
Smilebit enjoyed a bit of success on the Xbox with Jet Set Radio Future and Panzer Dragoon Orta, but it was still the original JSR that remained their magnum opus. After the merger, Smilebit was decimated, with some members forming SEGA's Japanese sports division, and others merging with Amusement Vision to form the studio that would later produce the Yakuza series. Others left the company entirely, and it seems unlikely that the developer as we knew them will ever be what they once were.
Overworks
Formed from many of the team members behind the Shinobi, Streets of Rage, and Alex Kidd series, Overworks was not the studio that many expected them to be. Instead, they built their name rich characters and colorful storytelling – the kinds of skills they honed working on games like Phantasy Star and Sakura Taisen.
Reiko Kodama, the artist behind the original Phantasy Star (and many other old-school SEGA console titles) headed up the development of SEGA's first original RPG property in years. Neither Square nor Enix had any intention of supporting the Dreamcast, so SEGA tried their best to deliver an epic turn-based RPG that could give their fans a solid alternative.
Set in a surreal world of floating islands above a sea of clouds, Skies of Arcadia was a fantastical take on the age of exploration. Story-wise it was nothing new – a band of optimistic scamps decide to collect magic crystals to overthrow an evil empire – but the rich visual style, quality music score, and unique world were compelling enough. The fully 3D graphics blew away anything the last gen had seen, and the warm, appealing characters were a refreshing change of pace from some of Square's morose crybabies.
Skies of Arcadia wasn't a huge hit, but it did earn quite a loyal cult following and, alongside Grandia II, it gave RPG addicts a reason to pick up a DC. Perhaps owing to weak sales of the later GameCube port, Skies never fathered a sequel, but not for lack of interest from its fans.
The Sakura Taisen name doesn't carry a great deal of weight here, but it was one of the main reasons the Saturn was able to hang in as long as it did in Japan. A unique mix of adventure, dating sim, and strategy-RPG, the Saturn's two Sakura games stood along Virtua Fighter 2 as the system's biggest hits. It made sense, then, that a sequel should be one of SEGA's first priorities.
Of course, development of a new Taisen would take some time, so Overworks was careful to feed their fans in the meantime. In 2000, they were treated to DC ports of the first two games, with some minor enhancements, and save continuity with the upcoming sequel. It wasn't until March, 2001 that the real deal finally arrived.
Sakura Taisen 3 ruffled a few feathers by kicking the original cast to the curb and introducing a whole new harem of charming young ladies. Set in Paris in the 1920s, it lost its Taisho-era charm, but it gained a breath of fresh air sorely needed to keep the series afloat. The battle system was redone entirely, losing its grid-based trappings in the move to 3D.
The Dreamcast wasn't able to replicate the Saturn's success in Japan, but Sakura Taisen 3 was warmly met all the same. The new cast, led by battle-nun Erica Fontaine, were worthy successors, and the new battle system proved exciting. Overworks returned to the shop one more time before the DC's end for Sakura Taisen 4. This was more of a farewell than it was a full-fledged sequel, featuring a greatly abbreviated quest that brought the casts of the three previous games together for an epic finale. Those that had played all the games on the Dreamcast could even import their saves.
After the DC era, Overworks continued their work with another Sakura Taisen and a long-overdue Shinobi sequel, but it wasn't long before they found themselves merged with Wow Entertainment, and consolidated back into the hive. Its members have stayed creative all the same, and Valkyria Chronicles offers some hope that the SEGA of old is still living inside its Tokyo offices.
AM2
For as long as SEGA has had internal studios, AM2 has been the favorite son of the arcade division. Under the leadership of Yu Suzuki, they cranked out a seemingly endless parade of hits that included Space Harrier, Outrun, After Burner, and Virtua Fighter. Without AM2, SEGA would not have been able to dominate the arcades the way that they did.
When Yu Suzuki decided he wanted to turn his attention to a game of a much broader scope, management couldn't write the checks fast enough. Suzuki's first console original was an epic in 12 chapters that would span at least three games, and feature an unprecedented level of detail. It was to be a showcase for the Saturn that proved once and for all it could go toe-to-toe with the PlayStation in the 3D arena.
Suzuki's project was a money pit. The first major setback arrived when word was given to switch development to Dreamcast, but this was only the tip of the iceberg. Shenmue's development was extravagant, even irresponsible, and included trips for much of the team to exotic locations in China, when a couple photographers could have sufficed. The excruciating detail was beyond the scope of anything that had been attempted before, and no matter how much got done, the end goal seemed to slip further way.
Originally, Suzuki had hoped the first game in his series would encompass five of the 12 chapters in his epic, but as the deadline approached only the first was in any shape for release. With all of the environments in place, they opted to cut the later chapters and expand the quests in the first to make it a full game. The rest would have to wait for the sequel.
The hype surrounding Shenmue was tremendous. Early tech demos showed incredibly lifelike, expressive faces and environments that seemed eerily real, at least by standards of the day. It would probably be hard to explain to a kid raised on games like Grand Theft Auto IV understand why Shenmue was so shocking, but those of us that were there remember. The world was not very big, but it was so fully realized, you almost felt like you were living there. You could shop at the grocery store, play games at the arcade, visit the bars downtown, and even get a job and go to work. The details may seem mundane, but when coupled with the thick atmosphere, epic story, and perfect soundtrack, it somehow made the whole experience more credible.
Shenmue was one of the system's most successful games, but it had gone so far over-budget it never had any hope of making a profit. By the time it released estimates for the total costs were as high as $80 million. SEGA's only hope was produce the rest of the series for less and hope that they could break even. Much of the work on Shenmue II was already finished when those chapters were supposed to be in the first game, so they were off to a good start.
Shenmue II was completed for a much more reasonable sum, and managed to best its predecessor in nearly every conceivable way. Spanning three chapters of Suzuki's epic, it packed more story, a much bigger world, and more variety than the first. It wasn't really significantly longer, but this made for a much brisker pace. Wan Chai and Aberdeen were rival enough to Shenmue 1's Dobuita, but visiting the long-gone underworld capital of Kowloon Walled City and the scenic rolling hills of Guilin elevated Shenmue II to something unique and beautiful.
It was too late, however. By the time Shenmue II was released, SEGA no longer had any interest in publishing DC games in America. The completed English version still made it to Europe, and some American stores like Electronics Boutique even stocked the import for eager Dreamcast owners looking for their last hurrah. They eventually released a virtually unchanged port on Xbox, but by then the graphics looked dated, and consumers shrugged off the masterpiece as simply irrelevant.
AM2 still stayed active in the arcades, as they always had, but the DC era wasn't as kind to them as earlier years. Ferrari F355 Challenge was acclaimed for offering both remarkable depth and realism and an arcade sensibility, but didn't do much at home. Outtrigger was a rare glimpse at a Japanese first-person shooter, but its deathmatching offered little real competition for Unreal Tournament and Quake 3. Their final arcade port, American Pro Trucker, was an appealing Japanese take at hokey Americana, but worked better as a 25 cent escape than a $50 addition to the collection.
Their final project on the DC was an aerial dog-fighting game with online play for up to eight people. Propeller Arena wasn't anything revolutionary, but it filled a niche, and made for a compelling spiritual successor to Wing War. While not as high profile as some of SEGA's other games, fans still looked forward to the few remaining titles on the release list. Development was completed in the fall, and the game scheduled for late 2001.
It never came. After the September 11 attacks, SEGA claimed they no longer felt a game about flying planes around cities would be appropriate. It may have just been an excuse – after all, there weren't any plane crashes in Shenmue II, and that was canned in the US as well. Whatever the reason, Propeller Arena was shelved in all territories. Pirated versions of the beta eventually confirmed that the game was in perfect working order, but we'd never be able to take it online.
AM2 regained their good name after the DC's demise. Virtual Fighter 4 was a tremendous comeback for the series. Had it been released for the DC in 2000, it might have been enough to turn the tides. Even after SEGA's studios were consolidated, their arcade division remains one of the few producing truly exciting games for the dying medium.
The story is less happy for Yu Suzuki. After the financial failure of Shenmue, SEGA never trusted him to manage a big budget again. Although much of the preliminary work was done on Shenmue III, it never made it into full development. Attempts to continue the series as an online RPG with a Chinese developer ended in more disappointment. Even his arcade game Psi-Phy never saw a wide release. Although he would produce a handful of games in the post-DC era, things were never the same. Earlier this year, he stepped into semi-retirement, ending hopes that we'd ever see him relive his triumphs.
Sonic Team
Sonic Team was one of the few not shaken up when SEGA reorganized, having earned a bit of freedom before the others were given theirs. In the 32-bit era, Naka convinced management to let him focus on some original properties like Burning Rangers and NiGHTS, but they could only ignore their namesake for so long. Yuji Naka wanted to move on, but it seemed no one else could carry the torch. The Saturn was wounded badly by its lack of a proper Sonic sequel, and it was time for the master to return.
Moving Sonic into 3D was no easy task. The hedgehog's world never even made sense in three dimensions, and Sonic 3D Blast was hardly a compelling take on the concept. Sonic Team effectively created an entirely new world for the blue 'hog to inhabit, with a more realistic view that eschewed the abstract checkerboards of older games. What was most impressive was the way they preserved the sense of speed and the subtle depth, even while re-inventing everything else.
Sonic Adventure was obviously the centerpiece of the DC launch, and is still regarded as the high point of the mascot's post-16-bit career. Despite their success, Naka was still interested in exploring new ideas as well. Chu Chu Rocket was their second game on the new hardware, and it couldn't have been more different. A modest game of navigational puzzles, Chu Chu challenged players to guide mice into rocket ships while avoiding predatory cats. It was the sort of game that could have been done in the 16-bit era, and hardly made good use of the hardware, but the addictive gameplay was hard to argue with.
The followed with Samba de Amigo, their answer to the fast-growing peripheral game craze that was sweeping the arcades. The vaguely Aztec-inspired aesthetic harkened back to SEGA's mid-80s period of unabashed psychedelia. The music cashed in on the short-lived Latin pop craze with music like "Macarena" and "Livin' la Vida Loca," but the public embarrassment of playing somehow made it more appealing. A home version shipped, complete with plastic motion-sensing maracas for those willing to fork over an extra $80 to humiliate themselves in front of friends.
When Bernie Stolar pushed to have a modem included with the Dreamcast, he envisioned a market where massively multiplayer online RPGs ruled the market. The DC never had a true MMO, but Sonic Team delivered the next best thing. Phantasy Star Online was a radical re-imagining of the classic series built around a social online experience. The MMO portion was limited to lobbies, and actual levels were four-player hack and slash, not unlike Diablo, but it was something new for console gamers, especially in Japan.
PSO was big enough to spawn a second DC version, and further revisions on the GameCube, Xbox, and PC. Sonic Team had successfully breathed a second life into two series teetering on death during the 32-bit generation. All that was left was the follow through.
Sonic Adventure 2 was far more than just a rehash. The new release refined the previous game, and stripped away the overworld filler. All that was left was a pure action game, with three unique styles of gameplay. The action-packed levels were bigger and bolder than anything the previous game could have pulled off and there was a level of polish that couldn't have been afforded its launch-window predecessor. The Dreamcast version was met with near-universal accolades and strong sales, making it one of the DC's last big hits.
A mere eight months later, SA2 arrived on the GameCube in near identical form, but was not met with nearly the same positivity. The moment seemed to pass all too quickly, and the disciples of Mario were not nearly as kind. Since then, Sonic has found himself chasing his Dreamcast glory with steadily declining success.
Sonic Team was one of the few to survive the merger with Sammy relatively unharmed, at least in terms of staff. Alas, after the sorely-underrated GameCube platformer Billy Hatcher, Sonic Team found themselves under severe time and budget constraints that perpetually compromised their ability to deliver a polished product. The Sonic series has continued decline, and the Sonic Team brand is now met with more skepticism than adulation.
Downfall
It may well be that the Dreamcast was doomed from the start. For as long as they lasted, SEGA had never really made much money, and certainly not from consoles. The only part of SEGA that had ever been consistently profitable was the arcade division. Even the mighty Genesis, for all its success in America and Europe, lost tons of money in Japan.
SEGA was living on borrowed time and borrowed money. More specifically, they were deeply indebted to CSK, their primary shareholder. Isao Okawa was loyal to SEGA and had a great deal more faith in them than it seems any reasonable man should, but it was becoming increasingly clear that hardware was simply a bad investment. Okawa had believed this for years, but when he appointed himself CEO of the company, it seems like an inevitable conclusion.
The Dreamcast launch was tremendous, and its sales were actually quite healthy for much of its life, but when Sony arrived with the PlayStation 2, things went sour. In order to stay afloat, the price was slashed repeatedly, falling to $99 in 2001. Manufacturing costs were simply too great.
Software was the only hope for the system, but therein laid another crisis. The Dreamcast used GD-ROMs, a proprietary double-layer CD that could only be created with SEGA's equipment. Unfortunately, they foolishly overlooked system's ability to read CD-R media, and it wasn't long before hackers figured out how to burn games that could boot with no need for any kind of hardware mod. With no real tech barrier in place, piracy went nearly mainstream, and many DC owners simply weren't paying for games.
Even without these considerations, the PlayStation 2 was the clear victor. With support for DVD playback, and the previous generation's most powerful brand behind it, the PS2 launch trumped the DC's record even with massive hardware shortages. From that moment on, the Dreamcast was doomed.
The final decision to develop for other systems was a unanimous one on the part of Peter Moore and Isao Okawa, and it was Moore who architected the transition. In March 2001, SEGA ceased manufacturing of new systems, and Isao Okawa, who had looked over SEGA since the late 70s, passed away. He forgave SEGA's debt to him, giving the company a new chance during the difficult transition to third party.
Even though the writing was on the wall and rumors had been swirling for months, fans were shocked and dismayed at the news of the Dreamcast's demise. Moore put on a brave face and promised they would continue to support the DC as long as they could, but most of us knew this wouldn't be long. The final American DC game, NHL 2K2, arrived in February, 2002, less than a year later.
Life After Death
It's ironic that the DC died first in its strongest market. Europe fell some months after, enjoying Rez and Shenmue II as parting memories. Yet it was in Japan, where the system never stood much of a chance, the Dreamcast lived on for years.
The reason had nothing to do with the vibrant home market and everything to do with the Japan's still-vital arcades. The NAOMI board was flourishing, having successfully usurped the aging NeoGeo as the ubiquitous budget arcade board of choice. Easier to develop for than PS2-based systems and cheaper than custom alternatives, the NAOMI was perfect for all of the smaller games for generic cabinets that needed low overhead and a high installed base.
The system had already been a favorite for arcade shoot 'em ups during its prime, with ports of Mars Matrix, GigaWing, and Gunbird 2, standing out as niche favorites. It was when Treasure decided to port their pseudo-sequel to Radiant Silvergun that DC diehards got really excited. Radiant Silvergun had served as a sort of last hurrah for the Saturn back in 1998, and its legend had since grown to mythic status. It looked as if history would repeat itself.
Arcade shooters hadn't really been commercially relevant since the 16-bit era, but Ikaruga's sophisticated art design and novel "polarity" gimmick made it one of the most imported games of all time in the US. Those still clinging to their DC had a reason to fire up the system one last time.
But it wasn't the last time. A slow trickle of games continued to find their way to shelves. Psyvariar 2, Shikigami no Shiro II, and Zero Gunner 2 offered some major upgrades to their 32-bit counterparts, enjoying some success with the reenergized shoot 'em up fan base.
Ikaruga's co-developer G.rev was one of the system's biggest supporters in its final years, starting with the ultra-low-budget puzzler Doki Doki Idol Star Seeker. That three month project earned them enough money to develop their masterpiece, a spiritual sequel to Metal Black called Border Down. Culling the best elements of Taito and Technosoft, Hiroyuki Maruyama poured his heart and soul into the side-scrolling shooter. He believed that if the company collapsed right after its release, he would still be happy, knowing he had his legacy.
But the company didn't collapse. In fact, Border Down far outsold expectations, and burned through subsequent pressings. It's now remembered as one of the best Dreamcast exclusives, fetching over $200 at online auctions. They followed up with Under Defeat, a helicopter shmup that tipped its hat to the games of Toaplan. It too, fetches triple digits, and remains one of the best exclusives on the system. Under Defeat was announced as the very last game for the system, but the system seemed to be unkillable. Milestone released Karous, and made a liar out of G.rev.
In fact, implausible as it may sound, Dreamcast games continued to trickle out for nearly 15 years after the console launched. Released in 2013, redspotgames' shmup Sturmwind might prove to be the final commercially game for Sega's swan-song console. Even so, crowdfunding platforms like Kickstarter are allowing even more Dreamcast games to see the light of day.
There's no sense mourning the Dreamcast's untimely demise. For as brief as its moment in the sun was, it lived two lives. In fact, the DC had more first-party titles in its short life than either the GameCube or the Xbox, and their quality can hardly be denied. Many hardware manufacturers have come and gone, but it's unlikely any will go out with half as much class as SEGA.
