Physical Media, Digital Convenience, and the Games We Lose
The debate is not just about discs or downloads. It is about ownership, access, and what happens when the games we paid for are no longer there.
By theCoastalCity (Bryce) - 22nd June 2026
Every so often, the conversation around physical media comes back around.
Sometimes it happens because a news story breaks about a game being shut down. Sometimes it is because a game has been delisted, a server has been switched off, or there has been an update around the Stop Killing Games movement.
Whatever sparks it, the conversation usually leads to the same place.
People become frustrated that a game they paid for does not feel like something they truly own anymore.
And when I read these articles, come across someone’s post about it, or hear someone I know talk about it, I always find myself sitting somewhere in the middle of the argument.
I enjoy physical media. I love having something in my hand that represents the thing I bought. I feel this a lot with comics and books.
There is something nice about seeing them stacked on my shelf, especially when they are tied to a memory, a favourite franchise, or something I actually finished.
Physical things can feel more personal.
They can feel like part of the experience.
But with games, my feelings are a little different.
I like physical copies for the same reason I like books. I like having something there. Something I can hold, display, and connect to the experience. But I also like the practical side of physical games. I like being able to trade them in for the next game I want to play, especially when gaming is becoming such an expensive hobby.
At the same time, I understand why digital games have become so normal too.
They are convenient. They are easy to access. They can be pre-loaded before launch. If my friends want to jump from one multiplayer game to another, I do not have to get up, change the disc, and reload everything.
I can just press a button and be there.
So when people talk about physical media like it is the only answer, or digital games like they are the entire problem, I struggle to fully agree with either side.
Because I personally do not think the issue is as simple as physical versus digital.
Maybe the bigger question is what happens to the games we buy when access, ownership, and preservation are no longer as clear as they used to be.
To me, physical games have always had a practical purpose as much as an emotional one.
I usually buy physcial copies of games as they offer me options in what I want to do with them.
I can play the game and either keep it for emotional value or trade it in to lower the cost of my next game I chose to buy.
For me, the ability to trade games in means that I can keep playing the latest games and make it more affordable, because games are real expensive these days.
When you are trying to keep up with the new releases, even as a casual gamer like myself, that cost can be several hundreds of dollars a month and that sometimes can be just in one week.
This September and October have major titles releasing days a part from each other cause of GTA 6 launching in Novmber and no one wanting to go near it.
By doing this, I am trying to make the hobby work in a way that feels affordable.
I will admit, I have lately found myself holding onto games a little more than I used to.
I have started displaying them in my TV cabinet, and because I made it a goal this year to actually finish the games I buy, those physical copies have started to feel like little markers of progress.
They are reminders of the games I gave my time to this year and the goal I have absolutely smashed.
Its nothing special, but this is my TV cabinate where I store my games and mostly comic books. Its nice to see them all there when I sit down and either watch something or play a game.
But as much as I like physical games, I cannot sit here and say that digital games do not make sense for certain types of games.
Multiplayer games are where digital really works for me.
Games like 'Call of Duty', 'Rainbow Six Siege', and 'Mario Kart' are the kinds of games I want quick access to.
If I am playing something and a friend asks, “Do you want to jump on?”, I do not want to go looking for a disc, swap it over, and wait for everything to load.
Even if we are already playing a multiplayer game, sometimes we might not be having a good time, or someone might want to jump to something else. In that moment, getting up to put in another disc feels like more effort than it needs to be.
I just want to launch a game as quickly as possible.
That convenience matters more than some people might think.
Digital games fit that rhythm better.
Pre-loading is another part of it as well.
Being able to download a game before release and have it ready to go the moment it unlocks is genuinely useful.
It removes that waiting time where everyone else is already playing and you are sitting there waiting for a delivery, or trying to find the time to get to a store.
So I understand the appeal of buying games digitally, because it is all about convenience, speed, and access.
Rainbow Six Siege is a game that I go through phases with my friends. We start of the night playing it and then has soon as someone leaves, we move on to the next game we all can play. Imagine having to get up and put in a disc every single time. (Image from Ubisoft)
But this is where the conversation gets a little messy in my opinion.
Because convenience is great until access becomes unclear.
When you buy a physical game, it feels like you own something.
I have the case. I have the disc or cartridge. I can put it on a shelf and keep it as part of a collection, or I can trade it in, or even lend it to someone else.
With digital games, it feels a little different.
They sit in a library attached to an account, and most of the time, I do not really think about that. I just buy the game, download it, and then play it.
There are some interesting middle-ground ideas starting to appear, like Nintendo’s Virtual Game Cards feature on the Switch 2. This allows players to share compatible games with friends and family, even if they do not own the games themselves.
GameShare is also another feature that allows for a Switch 2 owner to have another console user join certain games. The tech behind it, the Switch 2 does all the processing power and share that to another Switch or Switch 2.
Those kind of feature feels like a good step in the right direction, and it shows that digital games do not always have to feel locked away from everyone else.
But it is important to note that it still has its limits. It is controlled by the system, the account, the session, and whatever rules are attached to it.
So whilst digital sharing is a useful implementation, it still does not have the same feeling as handing a game over to someone and saying, “Here, give this game a go.”
I also want to say that if I spend $100 on a game and get 30 hours of entertainment out of it, part of me still feels like that was worth it.
I recently did this with Final Fantasy VII Rebirth as I wanted to get a much of the story possible ready for the next game Final Fantasy Revelations.
It is also like going to the movies. If I spend $30 for a few hours of entertainment, or I buy an indie game digitally for a similar price, I can still feel happy with that value.
But then I start thinking about the bigger question.
Is the value of a game only about the hours I spent with it, or is part of that value also the ability to come back to it later?
That is where I understand why people become frustrated.
Because when a game disappears, gets delisted, or becomes unplayable, it is not just about losing a product.
It is about losing access to something people paid for, spent time with, and maybe even built memories around.
And with memories come emotions, and they can be very powerful when they are messed with.
Virtual Game Cards and GameShare is an interesting one. Using both physical copies
Image from the official Nintendo Website
I personally have not come across, or been directly impacted by, a game that has been shut down.
But while doing research for this post, I started to understand the frustration around this topic a lot more.
Games like The Crew by Ubisoft, Concord by Firewalk Studios, and P.T. from Kojima Productions were some of the most prominent examples that kept coming up.
With The Crew, the concern was that people paid for a game that became unplayable once the servers were shut down. This is the kind of situation where people understandably become frustrated with companies, because ownership starts to feel questionable when a game depends entirely on online access. Ubisoft’s shutdown of The Crew has also become central to the wider Stop Killing Games conversation, with consumer groups arguing that players should not lose access to games they paid for when servers go offline.
Then there is Concord, a recent disaster in almost every possible way.
The game launched, struggled to find an audience, and was taken offline around two weeks after release. Thankfully, refunds were offered, and that was the right thing to do. But it still shows how quickly an underperforming online game can appear, disappear, and almost feel like it never happened.
One example I was not familiar with was P.T.
It was not even a full game in the traditional sense, but it became a really interesting example of how digital access can turn into a story much bigger than the game itself. Almost like a mythical ghost story.
It became about preservation, and how people were scared to remove the game from their consoles out of fear that they would never be able to get it back.
This is the part of the conversation that I understand, even when it has not personally affected me.
I can easily put myself in the shoes of someone who bought something and then had it taken away.
And it is not even always about whether someone got enough hours out of the money they spent.
Sometimes it is as simple as being able to relive the experience again.
Concord was very interesting to see play out and a thing I personally dont want to see again. Just under two weeks of this game being out to the public, it was gone. That feels like a huge knee-jerk reaction without giving the time the opportunity to see what I can really do. (Image from PlayStation)
For me, this is where the middle ground of my thinking sits, and where I feel most uncomfortable.
I do not think every online game can be supported forever. As much as that would be ideal from a preservation point of view, I understand the massive amount of money it costs just to keep servers running.
When you add developers, support teams, maintenance, updates, and infrastructure on top of that, it cannot always be a viable option.
But that does not mean companies should be able to just switch something off and move on like the people who gave them money are forgotten and do not matter.
There has to be a fair and reasonable way forward that works as best as possible for everyone.
My standing point is that if a game launches and disappears within a few weeks, refunds should be non-negotiable. If players have paid full price for a game and it has barely had time to exist, then returning that money feels like the bare minimum.
For games that have been around for many years, I can see where the argument becomes a little more complicated.
Full refunds can feel unrealistic after someone has already played a game for a few hundred hours, but players still deserve clear communication, proper warning, and some sort of plan for when a game reaches the end of its life.
That could mean an offline mode where it makes sense.
It could mean the ability to host private servers.
It could mean preserving single-player content.
Or it could simply mean being honest from the start about what people are actually buying.
Because I do not think the answer is that every game needs to live forever.
However, I do think players deserve to be treated with respect when a game has to end.
This is where preservation becomes an important part of the conversation.
Games are not just products that sit on a storefront until they stop making money.
They are works of passion. They are an art form created by people who love what they do.
They are art direction, design across many disciplines, music, writing, performance, technology, and memory all stitched together into one experience, packaged up and sent out to the public to enjoy.
This is where losing access to something can feel a bit different.
When a game disappears, we are not just losing a file. We are losing a piece of creative history.
We are losing the work of artists, designers, writers, composers, developers, and entire teams of people who put years of their lives into making something. Sometimes, with smaller developers, it can be their own house on the line just to fund the game.
I understand that not every game can be kept alive in the same way forever.
We live in an era where games and technology heavily rely on online systems, communities, licences, and infrastructure that might not be easy to maintain.
But I still think there needs to be more care around what gets preserved and how.
Even when a game cannot exist in its original form, there should be some effort to keep parts of it accessible where possible.
Whether that is an offline mode, museum archives, private server support, documentary material, or even simply making sure single-player content does not disappear with the online side of the game.
Games matter beyond the moment they release.
They are part of culture and should not be treated like they only matter while they are profitable.
Places like ACMI in Melbourne Australia have continued to have incredible exhibitions on game preservation. As someone who visited this place, it was amazing to see the games of the past being celebrated. (Image from ACMI Website)
This is where I struggle to pick one side of the argument, because both sides are valid.
Physical media matters to me, and it matters to many others. It gives people something to hold, display, trade, lend, or collect. It creates a sense of ownership that digital games do not always provide.
But digital media matters too, because the way we play games has changed.
Multiplayer games, live-service games, indie releases, pre-loads, updates, and quick access have all made digital gaming feel normal. For some games, digital feels like the better fit.
That is why I do not think the answer is as simple as saying physical media is good and digital media is bad.
Perhaps that is the problem I personally have with the argument around this topic. You cannot have a hard line on either side, because they are both important in different ways.
The problem is when convenience comes at the cost of clarity, access, and preservation.
If companies want players to move further into digital libraries, subscriptions, online services, and account-based ownership, then there needs to be more honesty about what people are actually buying.
And that means not hiding the most important details inside a massive chunk of terms and conditions that no one realistically has the time to read.
Because at the end of the day, people just want transparency.
Are we buying access to a game?
Are we buying access until it stops being profitable?
That is the part that needs to be clearer.
So maybe the middle ground to this topic is not about choosing physical media or digital convenience.
And just maybe, it is about giving players more choice, more transparency, and more respect.
Let people buy physical games if they want something to hold, display, trade, or collect.
Let people buy digital games if they value convenience, pre-loading, quick access, or jumping between multiplayer games with friends.
Both ways of playing are valid and cannot be argued against.
But if the industry wants to continue moving further into digital ownership, subscriptions, online services, and games that rely on servers, then players need to know what that actually means.
They need to know what they are buying and what happens when a game gets delisted or servers are shut down.
And most importantly, they need to know whether the thing they paid for will still exist in some form when the business side of the game moves on.
I do not think every game can live forever, and I do not think every shutdown has an easy solution.
But I do think games deserve better than disappearing without care, and players deserve better than being treated like their time, money, and memories do not matter.
Because maybe the right side is not physical or digital.
Maybe the right side is the one that respects players after they have already paid for it.
Writing this blog post was about getting my thoughts out and seeing where my feelings were on the scales. Even though it still like I sit in the middle, I feel like better with where my feelings are.
What are your thoughts on the topic? Feel free to reach out to me on Twitter/X @thecoastalcity or send me a message on Instagram @thecoastalcity as well.
If you’re on in my Discord, you can chat to me there and if you want to catch any of my streams, you can see me when I go live on Twitch or check out my previous streams over at YouTube
