I never really understood the recent vinyl record resurgence, since buying them is far more expensive and far less convenient than streaming any song you’d like on Spotify or Apple Music. That changed this year, when my suitemates pooled their record collections in our common room. One of them showed me his collection, consisting of a mix of new hits, classics, old cult favorites and some that he simply liked the title or cover art of. We’ve had a record on in the background whenever we hang out, showing each other some of our favorites. I even got in on the fun, putting on a Billy Joel album my family had always heard on the radio. My boyfriend and I listened as we cooked dinner, and he heard it for the first time.
One of my suitemates also brought his digital-only PlayStation 5, and I hoped I could share my impressive digital library of games the same way we shared music. I have a similar variety of games, old and new, AAA and indie, across many different genres. But my games library didn’t really receive any attention.
Now, I don’t really care whether my friends want to see my video games, but that fact does make me question Sony’s recent decision to stop printing video game discs after 2027.
One reason I believe our physical vinyl shelf is preferable is simply that it looks cool. That fact may seem trivial, but it is an essential part of the appeal of physical media. A staggering 60 percent of Gen Z say they buy vinyl records, but only 40 percent of record buyers even own a player to listen with. Instead, they use them as aesthetic decor. We see a similar focus on aesthetics for other types of physical media. For example, Blu-ray films sold by arthouse companies like A24 or The Criterion Collection come in aesthetic, uniform cases with alternate, more artistic cover art that appeals to fans of those films. Video game publishers also want their products to be aesthetically pleasing, with many — ironically, including Sony — featuring reversible, more artistic cover art on their physical games.
Recently, I purchased my favorite movie from The Criterion Collection, partly because of the unique cover art they made for it. But the main reason was the fact that I could never find the film on streaming. Even though I have pretty much every streaming service under the sun, I was only given the option to rent the film digitally every time I wanted to watch it. And I know I’m not the only one who’s had a favorite movie or show taken off a streaming service they pay for.
One might think this wouldn’t be a problem in the video game industry, since most players still choose to purchase games rather than use subscriptions, but the increasingly digital future creates one.
Firstly, digital titles can be delisted for any reason, and while most digital storefronts still allow users to download delisted games they’ve purchased, new players can’t buy them. For example, Spec Ops: The Line, a landmark example of artistic expression in video games, was delisted when its music licenses expired. This can even be done for more malicious reasons, such as when SEGA’s 20-dollar Yakuza 3 Remastered was delisted upon the release of its remake, the 60-dollar Yakuza Kiwami 3. This forced players to either buy the more expensive remake or the even more expensive 130-dollar complete series bundle. However, both delisted games are still playable if you can track down a secondhand physical copy. Much like my roommates’ vinyl collections, these physical copies are safe from licensing issues or corporate greed, and can be shared or sold freely.
But many modern game discs are still not as safe as their music or film counterparts. Many of them require access to online servers to download essential content that makes the games function.
If Sony or anyone else stops supporting their online servers, entire games people purchased could be lost. This fear isn’t unfounded either, since last June Sony delisted 551 movies available for purchase on the PlayStation platform, making them inaccessible to anyone who bought them. With the company moving into an “all-digital future,” stories like this should make everyone concerned about what they really own on the platform.
I love video games because I think that they can be one of the most expressive and unique forms of art today. Threatening our ownership of games robs us of the ability to express ourselves with the games we purchase, play, display or enjoy in any way. Beyond that, it deprives us of meaningful creative expression from games of the past, pushing us toward new and expensive products.
If we lose game ownership, we sacrifice another piece of our collective humanity to corporate machines that put profit over art. On one hand, it is crucial for everyone to advocate for the continued ability to purchase physical games, but that cannot happen unless all gamers vote with their wallets to support the practice.
For that reason, I encourage everyone to support physical media, since it allows us to protect, own and share the art that brings meaning into our lives.
Kevin O’Connell is a junior majoring in political science.
Views expressed in the opinions pages represent the opinions of the columnists. The only piece that represents the view of the Pipe Dream Editorial Board is the staff editorial.