I'm facing a dilemma, and I'm sure I'm not the only one. Digitally distributed games are saturating the market, and as a collector, I feel a little strange.




Digital distribution isn't a bad thing by any means; in fact it has allowed me to play many games I would otherwise not have the chance to experience. There's just no way I would find Myst out in the wild, but thanks to outlets like Steam and GOG, I now have a means of playing this game, as well as other classics, from over a decade ago. It's also given me the opportunity to play a handful of incredible independently released games like Gone Home, The Stanley Parable, and To the Moon. All of this thanks to huge leaps in technological advancements. But do these advancements come with a hidden price?

In recent years, the amount of games people have access to has skyrocketed. We are no longer subject to going to a store to buy pieces of plastic and metal that contain the data which make up a game. We can simply log on to any number of online gaming clients and have a plethora of available games to choose from that can be played within minutes of purchasing. Gone are the days of saving allowance and chore money, going to a retail outlet, and exchanging our hard-earned cash for that special game; the modern gamer needs only to link a credit card to a profile and click the download link for a desired title. The sentimental value of games as personal objects has diminished so much lately because the act of buying games has become so routine and mindless.


This is why I'm facing an impasse that comes in two parts: (1) I don't feel as though I own the games in my online libraries, and (2) I feel that there needs to be a group to curate our modern games for future gamers.

I resisted becoming an adopter of digital games for the longest time until I caved in by admitting to myself that these games won't see the light of day on a disc and I'll miss out of something I'm looking forward to. I refused to go down the digital route because I couldn't understand not owning a tangible game; going through a list of games just isn't the same as standing in front of a collection. I wholeheartedly enjoy browsing my shelves for a game and flipping through the manual. Actually, some of my fondest gaming memories come from reading manuals because I wasn't able to play a game due to the TV being used by other family members. Now, I can download and play a game almost immediately; like a junky getting his fix, I have that instant gratification of starting a game. There's no wait, no anticipation, it's just there. After a few clicks and a Paypal transaction, I'm within a game, a game which I can't really call mine. These games just don't feel like they belong to me, and I feel this has caused games to lose their sentimental value. Selecting from a list of games within my Steam account doesn't compare to inserting a cartridge into a gaming console.

Digital games are concerning to me because when Steam or PSN is shut down, I won't be able to play them anymore, and worse, I won't experience any sense of loss when they are gone or feel nostalgic twenty years from now. These games that I enjoyed, titles that creative people slaved over, will cease to be. They will be memories at best.

Having been born in the early 90's, I completely missed out on the NES, but now as a collector, I can play these games that have made their way into popular culture. Our children probably won't be able to say the same about games released in this modern era unless someone can curate these games so that they don't fade into oblivion. But then we face the question of who do we burden with this responsibility? This is a issue which gamers should not take lightly as their favorite memories lie in the hands of those tasked with preserving our medium. Of course, this is a lofty ambition and wouldn't be an easy undertaking, but if we want our hobby and memories to live on it's a question that can't be swept under the rug.

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