Arnold knew exactly what the situation was now.
The tables had completely turned.
It was no longer Ethan who needed him to endorse the game, it was he who needed to fight for the opportunity to become its face.
He returned to the main menu, his gaze stopping on the "Rambo" character assigned to Player 2.
Compared to Sylvester Stallone, a top tier global superstar, he himself was nothing more than an obscure nobody.
The Conan the Barbarian series had certainly allowed him to establish his own style on the silver screen, but that was all.
Although The Terminator, directed by the equally inexperienced newcomer James Cameron, had cast him as the important character T-800, whether the film would become the turning point of his acting career remained to be seen.
If he wanted to become a superstar like Stallone, transitioning into action films was clearly an unavoidable path.
"Hoo..."
He let out a long breath and slowly released the controls.
"This is practically like an incredible science fiction action movie, except I get to control everything."
"Thank you, Mr. Schwarzenegger."
Ethan smiled. He had long expected this reaction.
Even if Contra had been released in 1987, it would still have been a generation defining game.
For players of this era, seeing Contra for the first time was every bit as shocking as the first time he himself had seen GTA in his previous life.
"Mr. Schwarzenegger, we hope this game can do what its protagonists do, turn the tide and save a video game industry that's on the brink of collapse."
"It definitely can." Arnold had no doubt whatsoever. "Dave, we need to have a proper talk with Ethan."
His agent, Dave, nodded lightly. He understood exactly what Arnold meant.
They had already arranged a business meeting with 20th Century Fox later that day.
Judging from the situation, Arnold intended to postpone that meeting and discuss this once in a lifetime opportunity first.
"All right, I'll contact Fox..."
"Mr. Schwarzenegger," Ethan interrupted him, "we can exchange contact information. I don't want my affairs to interfere with your other business."
Ethan removed the circuit board from the projector and began packing up.
"Our studio is right here in Los Angeles. We'll have plenty of chances to meet. Besides... I'll also need a little time to prepare your endorsement fees."
At just the right moment, Ethan deliberately lowered himself, placing himself in the weaker position and leaving Arnold and his agent exchanging speechless glances.
That very day, an urban legend began spreading through the streets of Los Angeles.
According to the rumors, a legendary game called CONTRA would soon be released.
Its graphics were said to be as stunning as a movie, and its gameplay surpassed the recently popular 1942.
Even Hollywood rising star Arnold Schwarzenegger had praised it without reservation.
Yet no matter how relentlessly reporters pursued and questioned him, the young "tough guy" stubbornly insisted that he knew nothing about it.
As though it really were nothing more than an absurd urban rumor.
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
...
"Ethan, give me the truth. That Contra everyone's talking about outside, does it have anything to do with you?"
On the other end of the phone, Meyer's voice was filled with urgency.
It wasn't just him. Nearly every arcade distributor in California had spent the past two days running themselves ragged trying to track down the legendary Contra.
"It's caused that much of a stir?"
Even Ethan hadn't expected the story to spread so widely.
In an era before the internet had taken off, information didn't travel very quickly.
Yet merely through the chatter of moviegoers who had witnessed the entire demonstration, the story had spread across the entire West Coast.
That saved him the trouble of doing any marketing.
"So it really is your new game?"
Meyer instantly became energized.
During this period, aside from Ethan himself as the developer, the person who had made the most money from video games was Meyer, the distributor.
Machines purchased for $2,500 could immediately be resold for $3,000 or even more, and demand still far exceeded supply.
The price Ethan had originally quoted him now looked like reasonable.
Of course, part of that was because Meyer had standardized all the machines with $1 per play coin mechanisms.
Even after quadrupling the price of a single play session, players' enthusiasm hadn't diminished in the slightest.
Arcades that had once been in decline now had long lines every single day, while arcade owners frantically searched everywhere for suppliers.
Yet after searching all across the United States, only Silicon Oasis had inventory, and even then, orders had to be reserved in advance.
Ethan yawned as he continued optimizing the software on his computer, answering casually.
"That's right. We're preparing to begin production within the next couple of days."
"Ethan!"
Meyer's voice suddenly shot up in pitch. The already distorted telephone receiver immediately crackled with loud static.
"Please, you absolutely must sign a distribution agreement with us!"
Meyer had finally figured it out.
As long as he held tightly onto Ethan, he'd be able to retire comfortably within just a few years.
Arcades across America were all watching Ethan now. Every new shipment would be snatched away before it even reached the warehouse.
What did that mean?
It meant they could raise prices however they pleased, even doubling them again, and there would still be no shortage of buyers scrambling for them.
Unfortunately, the agreement with Ethan didn't allow him to increase the price any further.
"Of course, Mr. Meyer. Happy working with you."
Ethan agreed as he casually accepted the quotation sheet Sam handed over.
"The current estimated price is $4,000 per machine, with a 30% advance payment. No problem?"
"...?"
Meyer was visibly choked by the astonishing quotation.
A wholesale price of $4,000 per machine, what kind of concept was that?
It meant a single machine cost as much as three or four Pac-Man cabinets.
The price of just two machines was enough to fully equip a small arcade.
Unless this new game truly justified that price...
Unless it could genuinely earn enough money for arcade owners to recover such a massive investment...
Otherwise, pricing it like this would be suicidal.
"Ethan, do you have a prototype available now? I... I still think I need to inspect it first."
"Of course. Same place as always."
Ethan hung up the phone and turned his attention to the quotation sheet in his hands.
It wasn't that he wanted to charge such an outrageous price.
The production costs simply refused to come down.
When Lawson developed the prototype board, he had spared absolutely no expense, choosing the very best components available for everything.
Even after they completed subsequent optimizations and downgraded some unnecessary specifications, they hadn't managed to save very much.
The 256 KB storage medium alone already cost several hundred dollars.
Adding in all the miscellaneous one-time engineering expenses, it was impossible to spread those costs out without charging several thousand dollars per machine.
"Oh right, Sam. Did anything come of the company registration I asked you to handle?"
Ethan set the quotation aside, remembering another important matter.
Now that their arcade machines were being sold across the country, huge amounts of money flowed daily between the contract manufacturer and Silicon Oasis.
Their little arcade was obviously no longer capable of handling operations on that scale.
Sam grinned and pulled out a set of documents. They were the registration papers for GAMENOVA Entertainment (Nova Entertainment).