Why Can’t We Have Both? Why Physical Video Games Still Matter in a Digital World

Sony is getting ready to pull the plug on physical game discs for new PlayStation releases, with new games expected to move to digital-only starting in January 2028. Sony says it is simply following where gamers have already gone, with digital purchases now dominating the market. And I get it. Download a game, sit back and start playing. No store, no waiting and no hunting around the house for the damn disc.

But something about this feels a little strange. Just as technology is pushing us toward a completely digital life, people are starting to rediscover the appeal of physical things. Vinyl is back, film cameras are having another moment, physical books remain popular and people are finding something satisfying about objects they can actually touch and use. I like to call it Analog Living.

Analog Living isn’t about throwing away your smartphone and moving into a cabin in the woods. It is about choosing some things that don’t require a touchscreen, an app, an account or a cloud connection. A knob instead of a menu, a record instead of a stream, a camera that makes you wait for the picture, a book on the shelf and maybe a video game you can actually hold.

That’s where Sony’s decision gets interesting. A physical game isn’t just a way to play. It’s something you can collect, lend, trade, resell and keep. You know where it is and, years from now, you can pull it off the shelf and play it again. Digital is convenient, but it also raises a simple question: what exactly do we own?

A digital game can depend on a license, an account, a platform and a company continuing to support it. Services change, licenses expire and games can disappear. Just because something is in the cloud doesn’t mean it’s going to be there forever. That’s one reason gamers are pushing back against the move toward digital-only gaming, with concerns about ownership and preserving games for the future.

Microsoft has even taken a different approach with Xbox, announcing a feature that allows players to convert eligible physical games into digital entitlements while keeping the original disc tied to that entitlement. Suddenly, the question becomes bigger than Sony or Microsoft. If we can have digital convenience and physical ownership, why are we being asked to choose?

I’m keeping my movies, my games, my books and my music. I like having them around. I’ll stream a movie when I want the convenience, download a game when I want to start playing immediately and listen to music in the car, but I still want the Blu-rays, discs, books and records sitting on my shelves. Just because something is in the cloud doesn’t mean it’s going to be there forever.

I’ve always liked holding things in my hands and examining them. Open a movie case and look at the artwork, read the back, check out the little details in the booklet or examine the design of the disc itself. Pick up a book and look at the cover, the printing, the photographs and the way it feels in your hands. Those little details are part of the experience, and they’re also part of what makes one physical edition different from another.

That uniqueness can disappear when everything becomes digital. A digital version can be changed without you ever knowing it. Text can be rewritten, artwork can be replaced, images can be updated and information can be altered with a few clicks. The physical copy sitting on my shelf is a snapshot of a particular moment. What I bought is what I have.

Maybe that’s another part of Analog Living that we’re overlooking. It’s not just about having something you can touch. It’s about having something that has a history. The scratches, the artwork, the printing, the packaging and even the mistakes become part of the object. Once everything lives on a server and can be changed at any time, some of that individuality disappears.

The things we thought were dead have a funny habit of coming back. Vinyl came back. Film came back. Old video games came back. Toys came back. Collecting came back. Maybe physical games are next.

This isn’t about rejecting technology or pretending it’s 1985. Digital is great. It’s fast, convenient and incredibly useful. But convenience doesn’t have to replace ownership, and the future doesn’t have to mean throwing away everything that came before it.

Maybe that’s the real appeal of Analog Living. We spent years removing the buttons, knobs, discs, boxes and shelves from our lives, and now we’re discovering that some of those things gave us something we didn’t know we’d miss.

The future can be digital. Just let me keep the physical copy. Why can’t we have both?

Tony M.

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