Has gaming lost something precious in the rush to digital?

I remember the smell more than anything. My brother and I would often go to the game store in Camden Town, north London, and scour the shelves for our next shared passion. This smell wasn’t in the shop, though, but rather it was the sharp whiff of plastic as we prised open the case of our chosen game on the way home, poring over the instruction manual and gazing in awe at the disc, inert but glowing with potential and soon to transport us into fantasy. One day in 2002 I smelled something different — our new football game, FIFA 2001, had a scratch-and-sniff disc that gave off the turfy aroma of a sports pitch. 

It was a gimmick, certainly, but a memorable one. The fact is, buying discs in shops simply isn’t a part of my life any more. Today I download everything. Like the rest of the entertainment industry, gaming is forsaking physical media for intangible code. The pandemic has accelerated this shift, with digital downloads overtaking physical sales and the year’s biggest industry event, E3, taking place entirely online last week. For the most part, this transition is cheaper, more convenient, and — indisputably — inevitable. Some argue that digital games are also better for the environment because they cut out the carbon emissions of production and transport, though there is the countervailing cost of increased energy use from internet servers. But some, including myself, can’t help wondering if, in our relentless march towards the digital, something of value is being lost.

Digital game downloads went mainstream around 2003, thanks to rising internet speeds and increased hard drive space. The Steam store, created by developer Valve, dominated the PC digital download market for the rest of the decade. Today it faces tentative competition from Ubisoft, EA, and of course Epic Games, which is currently shaking the market firmament with its lawsuit against Apple surrounding the cut that stores take on digital purchases. With the most recent console generation, Xbox and PlayStation also took a step towards a digital-only future by offering cheaper versions of their consoles which did not include disc drives. They have turned physical media into a luxury. 

The most important reason consumers favour digital is convenience — why go to a shop when you can download something from the comfort of your sofa? Digital games have other advantages: they cannot be lost, stolen or damaged. They don’t take up space on your shelves. They are greener and more lucrative for publishers, saving on production, delivery and storage costs, and can be cheaper for the consumer, too, as online stores regularly run deals offering discounts of up to 90 per cent. Importantly, the fact that developers can now sell their passion projects directly to gamers, rather than being forced to make deals with risk-averse publishers, has spurred the growth of the indie game scene. 

Clearing out PS2 games from my parents’ basement, I was caught off-guard by a wonderful chain reaction of nostalgic memories

This transition has come at a cost. The rise of digital games spells an end for independent stores, reselling old games, and the fine tradition of sharing favourites among friends. It also poses an issue when it comes to game preservation — when you die, there will be no physical collection to be passed down to your children or to cultural institutions of the future. Many still romanticise physical objects, be they books, vinyl records or video games, admiring the care that went into cover art and booklets, wanting to attach their affection to a physical object. Like bookshelves, we use our game libraries to tell stories about ourselves — clearing out PS2 games from my parents’ basement, I was caught off-guard by a wonderful chain reaction of nostalgic memories browsing their plastic spines. 

Many are unaware that buying a digital game does not actually grant you ownership — it is in fact a licence to download and access the software. If the platform takes down a game and you do not have it stored locally, it’s gone. There have been cases of digital games disappearing from sale or online game stores being decommissioned entirely, leaving gamers bereft of titles which they assumed they had purchased the right to play. Physical games are also technically licences to play which could be withdrawn, though it’s nigh-on impossible for a company to come into your home and take a game out of your possession. Ultimately, though, while it’s possible to lose the right to play games you have bought — physical or digital — it is unlikely.

The principle still bothers me, though, because it feels like my generation is no longer allowed to own things. For the sake of convenience, we rent our music, films, games and homes. We are told that ownership is a mark of success, but we’re given fewer options to do so with each passing year.