I loved Returnal. I loved my time demoing Saros' opening hours. But, I'm not made of money. I'm still getting used to new games launching for £70/$70 (let alone 80 bucks), and by 'getting used to' I mean 'not buying'. Years of my childhood spent a gaming generation behind, picking out discounted cartridges from behind glass at the pawnshop, or buying unloved discs for a fiver a pop has taught me one thing: the patient gamer gets the worm. But, that might be changing.
I finally snagged Saros last week for 40% off. It's still expensive, but it's the sort of deal I've been keeping an eye out for – my usual method for scooping up new releases I don't need day one. And yet, with PlayStation ending physical disc production, I'm struck by the cold realization this might be the last time I get my hands on a boxed discount like this for PS5. It's an ignoble end for a deal hunter like me.
Disc-overed at the scene
I like a digital deal as much as the next gamer, but there's no thrill of the hunt when it comes to snagging virtual discounts. Whether PlayStation or Xbox, each digital marketplace is a walled garden, where deals come and go like clockwork to the exact prices agreed upon in advance. There's no real competition to be had, no variables to consider. No satisfaction for snagging a particular good deal, just a deal – the deal you were told to be grateful for.
Countless times I've even been swayed into pre-orders by deals – combining storefront voucher codes with already-reduced retail pricing to knock a crucial few bucks off an already slashed release. Who can forget the highs of getting Super Mario Bros Wonder at launch for £37.49 from Currys? The earth-shattering frugality of it made the excellent platformer all the sweeter. It's basically the only way I will ever pre-order a game before release.
Rare is the new, physical game that doesn't have some price reduction as major retailers face off to secure their orders, and then over time reduce games further to reduce stock. In conversation with my friends – those who game constantly and those who only pick up one or two a year – we often discuss where we've snagged the best deals, which retailers to look to first to get a better offer. The local discounts at Argos! The big reductions at Smyths! I've written enough Black Friday and Prime Day gaming deals to see how heavy savings can be on Amazon across regions for relatively new games. I've regularly seen Star Wars Outlaws physical copies cheaper than it's ever been on the PlayStation store – and that's just one example.
And all of that's before I get started on second-hand and pre-owned shops where prices can spiral further. Fifteen quid for The Legend of Zelda: Wind Waker with the Ocarina of Time bonus disc changed the trajectory of my life forever. Perusing the likes of CEX or other local shops formed the backbone of my own library when I was a cash-poor base Xbox 360 model owner, scooping up Devil May Cry 4, Fable 2, and Banjo-Kazooie: Nuts & Bolts for one crisp twenty note (an unwise chunk of my bank balance at the time – I never said I had good priorities).
These days, I'm rarely a collector. I personally don't really care if a game is on my shelf or in my digital library. I simply want to get a good price for my purchases, and encourage my friends to do the same. It's really the removal of purchase options that makes me concerned. I even worry that with less competition, we'll see digital deals get worse over time. At least on PC there are alternative shops to Steam, even if it has an incredibly large market share.
Giving consumers fewer ways to buy makes me feel disrespected. You will lose potential players as a result, even if it's in tough-to-track data – a player who buys a pre-owned game who might convert to buying the sequel new, new fans of a series or developer who only gave them a shot once they were cheap enough at their local. Streamlining an experience inherently removes avenues in. Market control is trumping the consumer experience.
It's not just the fact that gaming as a hobby is becoming more and more expensive to enjoy, it's that the ways in which you could make gaming more affordable for yourself are being obliterated. The AI industry is choking out component availability so hardware gets pricier over the course of a console generation rather than cheaper, completely inverting the traditional customer dynamic where the price of entry lowers and more users come in over time. Options to get discounts on new, physical games, and the pre-owned market are being crushed with hammers.
It's those with less who are feeling it the hardest.
Even while indie gaming continues to offer some of the most affordable gaming and often incredible new experiences, the wider industry is also exerting tremendous pressure on those indie developers to remain sustainable. It feels like there's no way out of it, and it's those with less who are feeling it the hardest – players and creators alike.
For now, I guess I'll try to enjoy Saros, but it's a different kind of existential horror to the mysterious eclipse that's affecting me at the moment. If gaming had been like this when I was a kid, there's simply no way I would be playing today. There was nothing lesser in my experience playing the cheap, discounted scraps – there was a treasure-finding glee into uncovering the good stuff at a discount, even if that meant risking wasting pocket money on some absolute guff. Sorry-not-sorry if it affected a tiny margin on some Windows 95-era spreadsheets, I guess.
Stopping poorer gamers from deal hunting, young kids from counting up their money to see which pre-owned release they can afford, or prohibiting swapping, trading, and borrowing your favorites with your friends crushes a vital human element of gaming. It makes me worry about the future of the industry, but it makes me worry about those looking to find joy in a rancid economy all the more, whether that's playing games, or making joyous experiences you want to share with others. We all deserve better.
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