Every company has its strengths and weaknesses. Pokeni, a small company, excelled in its art department. After all, the President himself was originally an artist, so their mastery of visual aesthetics and character design was undeniable.
Even before Aoki Haruhi's transmigration, Pokeni's art team was already formidable.
Their hardware engineers were also exceptional.
The programming was average, but in 1990s Japan, it was sufficient. The games ran smoothly and met the current design requirements—at least they weren't embarrassingly bad.
However, Pokeni's music department had always been a weak point.
The founder hadn't prioritized game music in the first place, and the soundtrack was often implemented late in development. This unintentional neglect led people to overlook its importance. After all, a game could still be playable without music, but if the art and programming were too flawed, those would become show-stopping bugs.
Initially, the company had hired a few people to handle the soundtrack and established a sound effects team. But during game development, they realized outsourcing would be more cost-effective, so they disbanded the department.
Aoki Haruhi had hired several outsourcing companies to compose music, pushing Pokeni's budget to its absolute limit. Yet after listening to the demo tracks multiple times, he still felt nothing.
Demo tracks, also known as samples, are short musical pieces that music companies create based on a client's requirements before a contract is signed. These samples, typically around ten seconds long, are primarily meant to showcase the company's capabilities and whether they can meet the client's needs.
It's like wanting to buy apples in bulk from a company—you'd want to sample a few first to see how they taste.
Aoki Haruhi listened to tracks from several companies, receiving over a dozen samples in total, yet he still felt something was missing.
This wasn't the Chinese Paladin he had in mind—no, the Onmyōji.
To be honest, the graphics and performance of the DOS version of Chinese Paladin were rather crude, but its soundtrack was brilliant. It laid the foundation for future wuxia-style game music and could be considered a groundbreaking work.
"Are there any other music outsourcing options?" Aoki Haruhi asked, taking off his headphones and looking up.
Standing before him was a slender young woman.
Ayase Akane, the company's HR manager.
She was twenty-six years old.
To be honest, most Japanese girls are petite, so someone as tall as Ayase Akane, at 1.7 meters, was truly rare.
Even among the men in the office, she stood out like a crane in a flock of chickens.
Fortunately, Aoki Haruhi's height was decent. As a Japanese-Chinese mixed-race individual, he was now around 1.78 meters tall.
Hearing the President's question, Ayase Akane replied with a worried frown, "None of the others are as good as these."
She had done her best. After the bubble era burst, many music outsourcing companies had gone bankrupt. The fact that any were still operating was a miracle, and the President was still being picky.
But...
Ayase Akane herself couldn't figure out how she, an HR manager, had ended up handling music and sound effects work.
In reality, she was merely acting as a liaison. After all, HR managers typically screen résumés, so she knew quite a few industry contacts.
"President, I actually think it sounds pretty good. Listen to this rhythm—don-ba don-ba don-don-ba," Ayase Akane said, putting on her headphones and humming along.
She quickly removed them when she noticed the President's icy glare.
"I'm sorry, I was wrong," the young HR employee said meekly, standing aside. "Truthfully, I'm tone-deaf and have no sense of aesthetics."
Aoki Haruhi shot her a contemptuous glance. This wasn't about musical taste at all.
Headphones are personal items, like toothbrushes—how could anyone just casually put them on?
What if she wore the wrong ones and caused problems?
Aoki Haruhi remained silent, closing his eyes to ponder.
Japan had many renowned composers, but their fees were exorbitant. Many were exclusive to their companies and wouldn't work for other firms.
"Are we going to approach a senior like Joe Hisaishi?" Ayase Akane grumbled.
I'm just a small-time HR employee. Why doesn't the President just hire some professionals directly?
"Huh?"
Ayase Akane had only said that out of frustration, hoping to make the President give up and settle for one of the demos. She never expected him to suddenly open his eyes, startling her.
The young HR representative took a step back. "President, don't startle me like that. I'm easily scared and was just rambling earlier. I'll go find someone and see if we can contact other game composers."
"No, you're absolutely right," Aoki Haruhi interrupted, raising a hand.
He had thought of someone.
"Nani? President, are you really considering hiring Joe Hisaishi?!" Ayase Akane's eyes widened in horror.
"No, not exactly," Aoki Haruhi shook his head. "Akane-chan, could you help me look for someone named Atsushi Shirakawa?"
Akane-chan...?
Ayase Akane froze, surprised that the President had used such an intimate term for her. Seeing his handsome face, her heart fluttered like a trapped bird.
She was bewildered. "Atsushi Shirakawa? I've never heard of him."
Japan had many renowned composers, but Ayase Akane had absolutely no recollection of anyone named Atsushi Shirakawa.
Many people might not recognize the name Atsushi Shirakawa, but his other name—Tenmon—is likely familiar to everyone.
If Hayao Miyazaki and Joe Hisaishi were a perfect match made in heaven, then Tenmon was the equivalent of Joe Hisaishi for Makoto Shinkai, the later titan of the anime industry, wallpaper enthusiast, and train otaku.
Tenmon composed the scores for many of Shinkai's works, including She and Her Cat, 5 Centimeters Per Second, and Children Who Chase Lost Voices.
His compositions vividly showcased his mastery of visual and healing music. The serene and beautiful melodies of piano and strings were pure and deeply moving, touching the hearts of countless young people.
If Aoki Haruhi remembered correctly, this person should currently be job hunting.
Ayase Akane turned and left the president's office. In less than an hour, she returned with accurate information.
"President, I contacted him, but he said he seems to have already expressed interest in another company."
Damn it!
"Akane-san, we're heading over there right now." Aoki Haruhi stood up to grab his coat.
"Going over? Where?" Ayase Akane's eyes widened in confusion, unable to comprehend what the president was saying.
And why did he call me Akane-chan earlier, but now it's Akane-san?
"Why wait? Let's go and snatch him up!"