On paper, Mega Man Legends had everything going for it: top-of-the-line graphics for its time, fast-paced action, storytelling, and a cast of fully-realized, marketable characters. And yet, the game was not a hot seller. What went wrong? Where did Mega Man Legends—or Capcom—miss the mark?

In his little-known and largely undocumented 2012 book, How to Create a Mega-Hit Product That Sells to 100 Million People, Keiji Inafune offered some introspection. Behind the game’s failure, he admits, was a dangerous assumption: that the fans would buy it no matter what.

I recently picked up thebook, and while I haven’t delved too deeply into it yet, a significant portion is devoted to the theme of "arrogance" and how Mega Man Legends fell into that trap. Below is the relevant section, translated from page 107.

I’ve come to believe that deciding where to draw the line—when to stop, when to say "this is enough"—can sometimes be an act of arrogance.

I was lucky. I didn’t fall into that trap. Not because I was wise, but because I failed—badly. And I failed with something close to my heart: the Mega Man series.

That failure was Mega Man Legends in 1997. It didn’t sell. And when I looked closer, I realized the reason why: arrogance.

At the time, Mega Man was a massive hit with elementary school children. We were confident—too confident—that no matter what we did, they’d support us. So we changed things. We introduced 3D graphics, added RPG mechanics, and tried to bring in a broader audience: older fans, teens, even self-proclaimed "otaku" who had outgrown the series.

We thought we could have it all. Aim high, and the kids would still follow.

But they didn’t.

The reviews were positive. The game itself wasn’t the problem. The problem was that we misunderstood our audience. We assumed we could move on, evolve past them, and they’d just come along for the ride. We underestimated them. We underestimated their loyalty, their intelligence, their expectations.

And that mistake cost us—big time.

I was called in by my boss. I don’t remember everything that was said, but I remember his words: You can’t change the past. The only way forward is through the future.

So I told myself: If we lost a billion yen, then we just have to earn ten billion.

And we did.

That lesson—about humility, about understanding who you’re really making something for—became the foundation for Mega Man Battle Network in 2001. We went back to our roots. We stopped trying to impress everyone and remembered the joy of making something for someone.

The result? We earned back the love. We earned back the trust. And yes, we earned back the money, too.

But more than anything, we learned never to take our audience for granted again.

There's no denying that the lessons learned from Mega Man Legends' failure laid the groundwork for making Battle Network a hit. Still, Inafune’s affection for Legends never faded. Though the first game struggled in Japan, it found modest success abroad—enough to justify a sequel and a prequel.

While the book doesn’t explicitly talk about Mega Man Legends 3's cancellation, Inafune's words underscore the commercial baggage of the series as a whole. And unfortunately, Legends 3 became a casualty of a lesson learned too late or forgotten. Even a project born of love couldn’t escape the weight of past missteps.

Yet there’s something undeniably special about the series—and the devoted fans who’ve held onto them all this time know it. Whether through a Legacy Collection or, if we’re feeling bold, a remake, maybe going back is the best way forward.