I see what you’re getting at, but your argument is built on an illusion of ownership that has never actually existed in the video game space.
You claimed that “owning a game IS owning the code… Ownership of that specific copy of that specific code.” That is fundamentally false. In the software industry, end-users have never owned the code, the pattern of 1s and 0s, or the game itself. You only ever purchased a non-exclusive, revocable license to execute that software.
The physical disc or cartridge was never the game, it was just a plastic delivery vehicle that doubled as a physical DRM key. The First Sale Doctrine gave you the right to resell that piece of plastic, but it never gave you ownership of the intellectual property printed on it. EULAs have made this explicit since the 1980s.
If you acknowledge that gamers only ever purchased a license to play, then the shift to digital-only isn’t some grand moral failing or a theft of consumer rights. It is strictly a logistical shift in distribution. The transaction hasn’t changed, you are still just buying a license to execute code. The only difference is that studios are delivering that license over a network instead of burning it onto a piece of plastic.
You can certainly argue that losing the ability to trade in used plastic discs is inconvenient or annoying. But calling an operational shift in supply chain logistics “immoral” is applying heavy ethical weight to a simple reality: you can’t lose ownership rights you never possessed in the first place.
It absolutely did give me ownership of the software on everysingle NES game I bought. NO ONE can tell me I don’t own that plastic and can use it in anyway I want so long as I do not distribute copies or derivatives works of it. But I can create and make as many copies of it as I want as long as I keep them to myself and I can make whatever changes I want to it assuming I have the skillset to do so. They do not have to provide me any assistance, nor am I entitled to assistance to do these things, but as the owner I certainly can do these things
Owning something doesn’t mean there aren’t conditions, but I absolutely own those 1s and 0s on that piece of plastic. No one can delete them or take them or prevent me from using them in anyway.
This ISNT a 1980s thing either. Copying what’s on my Plastic NES cartridges is no different than is no different than forging a copy of the Mona Lisa if I owned it. Distributing that copy in any way is currently prohibited, but I can paint it as long as I don’t try to claim it’s the original.
Owning a NES cartridge might also give me a limited license to certain things but I OWN that copy of 1s and 0s even if I can’t copy it and sell it or give them away. I didn’t sign a EULA when I bought Chrono trigger. YOU may have, but I didn’t
You are confusing physical possession with intellectual ownership. You absolutely own the plastic cartridge, the silicon board, and the physical state of the ROM chip. Because it is an offline, physical object, no one can remotely delete it. But you do not own the code, and you never did.
Under copyright law, ownership of a copyright is strictly separate from ownership of the material object the work is stored on. You own the material object. Nintendo and Square own the 1s and 0s.
You claim you never agreed to a EULA for Chrono Trigger. You didn’t have to click an “Accept” button on a screen because the 1990s operated on shrink-wrap licenses. If you look at the back of the original Chrono Trigger box and inside the manual, the publishers explicitly laid out the terms of your limited license to use their intellectual property. The law didn’t require your signature; breaking the shrink-wrap seal on the box or booting up the cartridge was legally recognized as accepting those terms of use.
Your house metaphor actually proves this point perfectly. If you buy a house, you own the wood, the drywall, and the land. But you do not own the architect’s copyrighted blueprints. You can paint the walls inside your house, but you cannot legally take the architect’s design and build an identical replica of that house on another lot.
You possess a physical artifact that grants you perpetual, offline access to execute a licensed piece of software. That is a great feature of the physical media era, and it is exactly why no one can take it away from you. But claiming you own the actual 1s and 0s because you hold the plastic is like claiming you own a novel’s copyright because you bought a hardcover at the bookstore.
I see what you’re getting at, but your argument is built on an illusion of ownership that has never actually existed in the video game space.
You claimed that “owning a game IS owning the code… Ownership of that specific copy of that specific code.” That is fundamentally false. In the software industry, end-users have never owned the code, the pattern of 1s and 0s, or the game itself. You only ever purchased a non-exclusive, revocable license to execute that software.
The physical disc or cartridge was never the game, it was just a plastic delivery vehicle that doubled as a physical DRM key. The First Sale Doctrine gave you the right to resell that piece of plastic, but it never gave you ownership of the intellectual property printed on it. EULAs have made this explicit since the 1980s.
If you acknowledge that gamers only ever purchased a license to play, then the shift to digital-only isn’t some grand moral failing or a theft of consumer rights. It is strictly a logistical shift in distribution. The transaction hasn’t changed, you are still just buying a license to execute code. The only difference is that studios are delivering that license over a network instead of burning it onto a piece of plastic.
You can certainly argue that losing the ability to trade in used plastic discs is inconvenient or annoying. But calling an operational shift in supply chain logistics “immoral” is applying heavy ethical weight to a simple reality: you can’t lose ownership rights you never possessed in the first place.
It absolutely did give me ownership of the software on everysingle NES game I bought. NO ONE can tell me I don’t own that plastic and can use it in anyway I want so long as I do not distribute copies or derivatives works of it. But I can create and make as many copies of it as I want as long as I keep them to myself and I can make whatever changes I want to it assuming I have the skillset to do so. They do not have to provide me any assistance, nor am I entitled to assistance to do these things, but as the owner I certainly can do these things
Owning something doesn’t mean there aren’t conditions, but I absolutely own those 1s and 0s on that piece of plastic. No one can delete them or take them or prevent me from using them in anyway.
This ISNT a 1980s thing either. Copying what’s on my Plastic NES cartridges is no different than is no different than forging a copy of the Mona Lisa if I owned it. Distributing that copy in any way is currently prohibited, but I can paint it as long as I don’t try to claim it’s the original.
Owning a NES cartridge might also give me a limited license to certain things but I OWN that copy of 1s and 0s even if I can’t copy it and sell it or give them away. I didn’t sign a EULA when I bought Chrono trigger. YOU may have, but I didn’t
This is no different than owning a house
You are confusing physical possession with intellectual ownership. You absolutely own the plastic cartridge, the silicon board, and the physical state of the ROM chip. Because it is an offline, physical object, no one can remotely delete it. But you do not own the code, and you never did.
Under copyright law, ownership of a copyright is strictly separate from ownership of the material object the work is stored on. You own the material object. Nintendo and Square own the 1s and 0s.
You claim you never agreed to a EULA for Chrono Trigger. You didn’t have to click an “Accept” button on a screen because the 1990s operated on shrink-wrap licenses. If you look at the back of the original Chrono Trigger box and inside the manual, the publishers explicitly laid out the terms of your limited license to use their intellectual property. The law didn’t require your signature; breaking the shrink-wrap seal on the box or booting up the cartridge was legally recognized as accepting those terms of use.
Your house metaphor actually proves this point perfectly. If you buy a house, you own the wood, the drywall, and the land. But you do not own the architect’s copyrighted blueprints. You can paint the walls inside your house, but you cannot legally take the architect’s design and build an identical replica of that house on another lot.
You possess a physical artifact that grants you perpetual, offline access to execute a licensed piece of software. That is a great feature of the physical media era, and it is exactly why no one can take it away from you. But claiming you own the actual 1s and 0s because you hold the plastic is like claiming you own a novel’s copyright because you bought a hardcover at the bookstore.
I very much am not confused about this, you just aren’t willing to consider other view points and keep shifting the goal posts.
I thought this was an interesting conversation. You have shown me that I was wrong about this conversation.
You aren’t worth any more of my time.
And that’s sad
You’ve expressed a lot of contradictory opinions and wishes, but you have not countered any of my premises with facts or logical argumentation.
I’m sorry that you find that so frustrating.