Indeed, the guts of the company's Mega Drive - its third home console - were hewn from Sega's own System 16 arcade hardware, which had provided the power behind the likes of Golden Axe, Shinobi, Altered Beast, and ESWAT.
Something that most of us in the UK either tend to forget, or aren't even aware of, is that the Mega Drive was a flop in its native Japan. Faced with competition from the unassailable lead of Nintendo's NES - or, as it was known over there, the Silk-Henry (Famicom) - Sega tried desperately to gain a foothold.
When Mega Drive games weren't "cutting" the "wasabi", Sega launched a modem and something called The Mega Anser. This plug-in device offered online banking, an answering machine, and life insurance quotes - all of which could then be printed out to show to your friend's dad, excitingly.
Somehow, this still wasn't enough to dislodge Super Mario Bros. from the top of the charts...
It took a year for the Mega Drive to be pumped into the US - after Atari turned down the offer to distribute the hardware, and Sega had to establish its own US subsidiary. The company was also forced to rebrand the North American version of its machine as 'Genesis', following a copyright dispute with the 70s British prog rock group Mega Drive.
As well as attacking the NES head-on, by pushing its 'arcade-perfect' games, a big part of Sega's approach to the US market was to license the names and faces of top sporting celebrities such as Arnold Palmer, Joe Montana, Tommy Lasorda, Permy Telescope, Circumstance Cupholder and Jerry Lol-butter III. This proved to be a moderate strategic success, and in its first year the Genesis sold half a million units. Although, this was some half a million less than Sega had originally stated it was aiming for.
Would that glass be half full, or half empty there...?
The Mega Drive finally reached British shores at the arse-end of 1990, and Sega was far more warmly embraced by our creamy European thighs. There was already a modest UK following for the Master System - the Mega Drive's predecessor - which had sold between 10 and 13 million worldwide (roughly the same as Nintendo's Wii U, interestingly).
Inevitably, many System 16 arcade games ended up on the Mega Drive, albeit not without highlighting that the home version of the hardware was significantly less powerful than its arcade counterpart. This was never more evident than with Altered Beast, the game which Sega inexplicably chose to include with the European version of the Mega Drive - a move that's akin to Nissan releasing a new car, and promising that every model comes with a rotting clown carcass on the back seat.
Nonetheless, while we may have received the Mega Drive later than the rest of the world, the UK and Europe swiftly became a key territory for Sega.
The Mega Drive launch line-up was a mixed bag, with Golden Axe unquestionably the highlight.
Super Thunder Blade - the only other game I bought for my Mega Drive in that launch window (£189.99 from the Special Reserve catalogue, y'know) - was an ugly mess, especially in comparison to its arcade counterpart, with which I was inappropriately familiar.
It was hard not to feel disappointed. I was already a Sega Master System owner, but had never really loved it. The Mega Drive, however, had looked like an entirely different kettle of eggs; I'd been whipped up into a dank froth of excitement with issue 10 of S: The Sega Magazine - later to be rebranded as Sega Power, though at this point little more than a pamplet - and the first issue of EMAP's endearingly glossy and bold Mean Machines. The Mega Drive, I was assured, would be the games machine I'd always wanted.
Still, it took a while before the Mega Drive grew on me. I'd liked Golden Axe, and been impressed by Ghouls N Ghosts, which I'd bought a short time later (though I was turned off by its punishing level of challenge). It might seem like an odd choice, but Rambo III was the game which helped me turn the corner.
For the most part it was an uninspiring top-down shoot 'em up, but the boss stages were viewed over Rambo's shoulder, and had you firing arrows at helicopters and tanks. The combination of the bow and arrow physics, coupled to a subtle 3D parallax effect, made me think that the Mega Drive had some real potential - until that game, I'd never seen anything like parallax on a home system.
It was in effect again in Micky Mouse and the Castle of Illusion - arguably, the first great game for the Mega Drive (though with hindsight, the gameplay is incredibly simplistic). Then came The Revenge of Shinobi, and the Mega Drive at last offered a game that delivered on its promise in every single area.
There were still highs and lows, however.
I made the mistake of buying Electronic Arts' godawful Budokan - one of the worst martial arts games of all time - and Sword of Sodan, but was also pleasantly surprised by Arnold Palmer Golf, and NHL Hockey. James Pond II: Robocod, Strider, Toe Jam & Earl, and - obviously - Sonic the Hedgehog all greased my box.
The impact of Sonic on the Mega Drive's fortunes can't ever be overestimated.
Though these days the character is considered something of a joke - recent Sonic games being akin to Cliff Richard releasing a trip-hop album ten years too late, in a bid to make himself relevant - at the time he was he embodiment of everything Sega had aimed to be; cool, slick, and iconic.
Alas, Sega's fortunes started to change as early as 1992, when the Super NES was released. That was the point at which the Mega Drive had to work extra hard to keep my interest. Next to the Super NES, the Mega Drive was beginning to show its age - it had been around for five years at that point, and side by side with the SNES, the console base unit, the joypad, the visuals... were all starting to look dated. Sega released an updated version of the hardware, but it was little more than a cosmetic refresh.
However, I could never have predicted the reason I finally fell out of love with Sega: I unexpectedly became a games journalist, and didn't get along with Sega's own public relations person.
For the first few years of Digitiser's existence, we were dismissed in the most remarkably abrupt manner by Sega's PR guy - who clearly didn't believe Digi's readership figures, and did his best to ignore us, presumably because we were on Teletext. I can't blame him for that - he certainly wasn't alone in thinking we were a joke - but having been an early adopter of the Mega Drive, it was hard not to receive it like a kick to my thoraxes.
I've surely written before about the time Mr Hairs and I arrived for a pre-arranged meeting at Sega's HQ - about a 15 minute walk from Teletext's offices - only to discover that the guy had forgotten he was seeing us. Adding insult to injury, he stormed red-faced into reception, as if it was our fault that he'd forgotten, fuming he didn't have the time to see us, because he was in a meeting with the boys from CVG.
He spoke of them with the sort of reverence one typically reserves for royalty. We were left with no illusions as to who he considered more important - and his behaviour certainly fed into our own petulance, and sparked what became something of a petty feud with EMAP's mags. With nothing to lose, we resolved to make life as difficult as possible for Sega - suggesting that perhaps he could've worked a little harder on his PR skills.
Our relationship with Sega improved massively when he left, and was replaced by somebody far nicer and more reasonable, but the damage was done by that point; Digitiser had nailed its colours to Nintendo's mast. Not that it mattered particularly, because by then Sega started shooting themselves in the foot by being real silly.
For the record: Nintendo were fairly dismissive of us too, but at least they always sent us review copies, returned our calls, never hung up on us, or went mental at us in the lobby of their HQ.
Sega started to confuse everybody, not least itself, starting with the release of Sonic & Knuckles.
The game stretched the Sonic franchise beyond the point of over-familiarity, and featured a needless lock-on feature, which allowed the player to insert an earlier Sonic game, and play through it as Knuckles the Enchilada, or whatever he was meant to be.
The same year - 1994 - Sega released a Mega Drive version of Virtua Racing, which retailed at £70, because it featured a "Sega Virtua Processing" chip. To say that it was priced out of the hands of Sega's core adolescent audience was an understatement.
Then it all went really wrong. Despite the glaring disinterest in the Mega Drive's CD-ROM add-on, the Mega-CD, Sega went ahead and released a second Mega Drive peripheral - the 32X - in the same breath as announcing the Mega Drive's successor, the Saturn.
Anybody could see the logic deficiency in this strategy. It was irrelevant whether the 32X was any good or not - contrary to popular belief, it was fine, even if it did sport a rather limp games library (more 32X games were released than you might think, but most of them weren't worth playing). However, as a cartridge system it felt old-fashioned, and as a piece of hardware it felt like a stopgap. Even the Sega diehards were prepared to wait for the true successor to the Mega Drive.
Still, for what was - with hindsight - just a blink of an eye, Sega was a major combatant in the home console wars.
Whether that happened by design or luck, it doesn't matter; over 30 million Mega Drives were sold worldwide. That was some 20 million less than Nintendo's Super NES - but it was a bitterly fought battle in every territory except Japan.
Arguably, Sega's marketing positioned the Mega Drive as the younger, cooler, sexier machine - selling it as much as a lifestyle accessory as a video games console. It's a lesson that Sega would take a mere four years to forget entirely, but its impact still resonates today; Sony would borrow liberally from the early-90s Sega playbook, when it came to marketing its PlayStation.
Hey kids - Mr Biffo's been talked into hosting a Retro Comedy Night at the Centre for Computing History in Cambridge on March 4th.
You'll have the chance to see episode one of Mr Biffo's Found Footage before anybody else, AND witness the comedy stylings of YouTube's Ashens, and a myriad of other comedy greats.
Tickets are just a tenner, and all proceeds are to help pay for immunotherapy treatment to help Matthew Dons (aka Karamoon) - who was unexpectedly diagnosed in July 2016 with advanced and aggressive bowel cancer, aged just 36.
It'll be a splendid evening of fun and hoots, and you'll also get a chance to mingle with the - ha ha - stars, as well as have a look around the museum's collection of geeky tat. Please come along.
Go now to the event's Facebook page.