Title: Today I bought 44 old PC games, and it reminded me why physical media still matters
Today I went out hunting for old PC games and came home with 44 games for 181 DKK — about $28 / €24 / £21. That works out to around 4.11 DKK per game — about $0.63 / €0.55 / £0.48 each.
Some were common filler, some were duplicates, some were kids’ games, some were sports games, and some were surprisingly good finds. The funny part is that two games that look like ordinary football-manager shelf junk jumped straight into the high-value part of my CLZ list: Championship Manager: Season 01/02 and Football Manager 2014. I paid 2 DKK — about $0.31 / €0.27 / £0.23 — for Championship Manager: Season 01/02, and 3 DKK — about $0.46 / €0.40 / £0.35 — for Football Manager 2014.
Other finds included The Settlers VI: Rise of an Empire – The Eastern Realm for 2 DKK — about $0.31 / €0.27 / £0.23 — Hitman: Codename 47 for 1 DKK — about $0.15 / €0.13 / £0.12 — Alpha Protocol for 1 DKK — about $0.15 / €0.13 / £0.12 — Age of Mythology for 10 DKK — about $1.54 / €1.34 / £1.16 — Far Cry 3 for 5 DKK — about $0.77 / €0.67 / £0.58 — Stronghold Legends for 9 DKK — about $1.39 / €1.20 / £1.04 — Silent Hunter 5 for 3 DKK — about $0.46 / €0.40 / £0.35 — Ship Simulator 2008 for 3 DKK — about $0.46 / €0.40 / £0.35 — several The Sims expansions around 7 DKK each — about $1.08 / €0.94 / £0.81 — and World of Warcraft: Wrath of the Lich King in the cardboard box for 8 DKK — about $1.23 / €1.07 / £0.93.
Some of them are not perfect. My Medal of Honor: Allied Assault copy is missing disc 1, so it is more of a donor copy for now. But for 2 DKK — about $0.31 / €0.27 / £0.23 — even that is useful if I later find a damaged copy with the missing disc.
My physical PC game collection is getting large now, and I am putting real work into it. This is no longer just a random pile of old discs. I use CLZ to track condition, completeness, prices, stores, notes, and cover art. I am also slowly replacing bad covers with cleaned-up 1:1 versions based on the original cover, not AI redesigns. The point is not to make fake new covers. The point is to restore what is already there: crop it correctly, clean it, straighten it, remove glare or dirt, and make it useful as proper database artwork.
This has become more than just collecting cheap old games for me.
I have been gaming for more than 25 years. I grew up with older games, discs, manuals, boxes, weird installers, patches, config files, broken controls, and games that sometimes needed work before they behaved. I am also a Linux user, and that changes how you look at games. On Linux you get used to solving problems yourself. Proton, Wine, old launchers, community patches, widescreen fixes, no-CD patches for games you legally own, offline installers, backups, old hardware quirks — that is part of the culture. You do not just accept that something is dead because a launcher, DRM system, or publisher says so.
That is why physical games and preservation matter more to me now than they did years ago.
The modern industry keeps pushing players toward a future where we do not really own anything. Games are tied to accounts, launchers, remote activation, online services, disappearing DLC, expiring licenses, server shutdowns, subscriptions, and legal grey areas. Even normal game features like user-created files, imported music, mods, custom content, or old multiplayer support can become a licensing or policy problem later. The game stops being a game and becomes a permission slip.
The whole Stop Killing Games discussion exists because of that problem. It is not about forcing publishers to support every game forever with new content and live-service updates. It is about the basic idea that if a game was sold to customers, it should not be deliberately made unplayable when the company decides it is done with it. The Ubisoft The Crew situation made that very clear. A paid game was shut down, it had no proper offline mode, and people who bought it were left with nothing useful. That is not preservation. That is a product being erased.
Then you get the subscription logic: “get comfortable not owning your games.” No. I do not want to get comfortable with that. I do not want my library to become a temporary access list controlled by companies that can change terms, remove content, ban accounts, close servers, delist titles, or decide that a game is no longer worth keeping alive.
This is why old physical PC games feel more honest to me, even when they are flawed.
A disc is not magic. Physical media does not solve everything. Some old PC games still need activation. Some keys are used. Some discs are scratched. Some games need patches that are not on the disc. Some multiplayer modes are gone. Some games are broken on modern systems. Some boxes are damaged, some manuals are missing, and some copies are only useful as donor copies. But at least there is something real there: the disc, the manual, the case, the cover, the version, the history. You can document it. You can preserve it. You can try to make it run. You can keep it outside a corporate account system.
As a Linux gamer, that matters. I do not collect only because of nostalgia. I collect because I do not trust the direction the industry is going.
Modern AAA gaming is full of monetization, launchers, DRM, live-service design, battle passes, accounts, online-only systems, subscriptions, and “you own a license, not a product” language. We have seen this kind of market rot before in different forms. Back in the old console crash era, the market was flooded with low-effort junk and the trust between players and the industry broke down. Today it is more advanced, more digital, more polished, and more legally protected, but the feeling is similar: too much product, too little respect, and too many companies trying to control the customer after the sale.
So yes, I am buying old PC games from thrift shops, flea markets, charity shops, and second-hand stores.
I am documenting them.
I am cleaning up the covers.
I am tracking condition and missing discs.
I am keeping physical copies where I can.
I am preserving the kind of games that might otherwise end up in the trash.
I am building a collection that still exists even if a publisher account disappears.
Maybe the gaming industry will not collapse in my lifetime. Maybe it will just keep getting worse slowly. Maybe laws will change. Maybe movements like Stop Killing Games will force publishers to provide offline modes, private server tools, or real end-of-life patches. I hope so.
But I am not going to sit around and wait for the industry to decide whether I am allowed to keep my games.
For me, physical PC collecting is not just nostalgia. It is a small personal answer to a bigger problem: games should be preserved, not erased. And if modern publishers want us to get comfortable not owning games, then I am going the other way.
I am getting more comfortable owning what I can.
Today I went out hunting for old PC games and came home with 44 games for 181 DKK — about $28 / €24 / £21. That works out to around 4.11 DKK per game — about $0.63 / €0.55 / £0.48 each.
Some were common filler, some were duplicates, some were kids’ games, some were sports games, and some were surprisingly good finds. The funny part is that two games that look like ordinary football-manager shelf junk jumped straight into the high-value part of my CLZ list: Championship Manager: Season 01/02 and Football Manager 2014. I paid 2 DKK — about $0.31 / €0.27 / £0.23 — for Championship Manager: Season 01/02, and 3 DKK — about $0.46 / €0.40 / £0.35 — for Football Manager 2014.
Other finds included The Settlers VI: Rise of an Empire – The Eastern Realm for 2 DKK — about $0.31 / €0.27 / £0.23 — Hitman: Codename 47 for 1 DKK — about $0.15 / €0.13 / £0.12 — Alpha Protocol for 1 DKK — about $0.15 / €0.13 / £0.12 — Age of Mythology for 10 DKK — about $1.54 / €1.34 / £1.16 — Far Cry 3 for 5 DKK — about $0.77 / €0.67 / £0.58 — Stronghold Legends for 9 DKK — about $1.39 / €1.20 / £1.04 — Silent Hunter 5 for 3 DKK — about $0.46 / €0.40 / £0.35 — Ship Simulator 2008 for 3 DKK — about $0.46 / €0.40 / £0.35 — several The Sims expansions around 7 DKK each — about $1.08 / €0.94 / £0.81 — and World of Warcraft: Wrath of the Lich King in the cardboard box for 8 DKK — about $1.23 / €1.07 / £0.93.
Some of them are not perfect. My Medal of Honor: Allied Assault copy is missing disc 1, so it is more of a donor copy for now. But for 2 DKK — about $0.31 / €0.27 / £0.23 — even that is useful if I later find a damaged copy with the missing disc.
My physical PC game collection is getting large now, and I am putting real work into it. This is no longer just a random pile of old discs. I use CLZ to track condition, completeness, prices, stores, notes, and cover art. I am also slowly replacing bad covers with cleaned-up 1:1 versions based on the original cover, not AI redesigns. The point is not to make fake new covers. The point is to restore what is already there: crop it correctly, clean it, straighten it, remove glare or dirt, and make it useful as proper database artwork.
This has become more than just collecting cheap old games for me.
I have been gaming for more than 25 years. I grew up with older games, discs, manuals, boxes, weird installers, patches, config files, broken controls, and games that sometimes needed work before they behaved. I am also a Linux user, and that changes how you look at games. On Linux you get used to solving problems yourself. Proton, Wine, old launchers, community patches, widescreen fixes, no-CD patches for games you legally own, offline installers, backups, old hardware quirks — that is part of the culture. You do not just accept that something is dead because a launcher, DRM system, or publisher says so.
That is why physical games and preservation matter more to me now than they did years ago.
The modern industry keeps pushing players toward a future where we do not really own anything. Games are tied to accounts, launchers, remote activation, online services, disappearing DLC, expiring licenses, server shutdowns, subscriptions, and legal grey areas. Even normal game features like user-created files, imported music, mods, custom content, or old multiplayer support can become a licensing or policy problem later. The game stops being a game and becomes a permission slip.
The whole Stop Killing Games discussion exists because of that problem. It is not about forcing publishers to support every game forever with new content and live-service updates. It is about the basic idea that if a game was sold to customers, it should not be deliberately made unplayable when the company decides it is done with it. The Ubisoft The Crew situation made that very clear. A paid game was shut down, it had no proper offline mode, and people who bought it were left with nothing useful. That is not preservation. That is a product being erased.
Then you get the subscription logic: “get comfortable not owning your games.” No. I do not want to get comfortable with that. I do not want my library to become a temporary access list controlled by companies that can change terms, remove content, ban accounts, close servers, delist titles, or decide that a game is no longer worth keeping alive.
This is why old physical PC games feel more honest to me, even when they are flawed.
A disc is not magic. Physical media does not solve everything. Some old PC games still need activation. Some keys are used. Some discs are scratched. Some games need patches that are not on the disc. Some multiplayer modes are gone. Some games are broken on modern systems. Some boxes are damaged, some manuals are missing, and some copies are only useful as donor copies. But at least there is something real there: the disc, the manual, the case, the cover, the version, the history. You can document it. You can preserve it. You can try to make it run. You can keep it outside a corporate account system.
As a Linux gamer, that matters. I do not collect only because of nostalgia. I collect because I do not trust the direction the industry is going.
Modern AAA gaming is full of monetization, launchers, DRM, live-service design, battle passes, accounts, online-only systems, subscriptions, and “you own a license, not a product” language. We have seen this kind of market rot before in different forms. Back in the old console crash era, the market was flooded with low-effort junk and the trust between players and the industry broke down. Today it is more advanced, more digital, more polished, and more legally protected, but the feeling is similar: too much product, too little respect, and too many companies trying to control the customer after the sale.
So yes, I am buying old PC games from thrift shops, flea markets, charity shops, and second-hand stores.
I am documenting them.
I am cleaning up the covers.
I am tracking condition and missing discs.
I am keeping physical copies where I can.
I am preserving the kind of games that might otherwise end up in the trash.
I am building a collection that still exists even if a publisher account disappears.
Maybe the gaming industry will not collapse in my lifetime. Maybe it will just keep getting worse slowly. Maybe laws will change. Maybe movements like Stop Killing Games will force publishers to provide offline modes, private server tools, or real end-of-life patches. I hope so.
But I am not going to sit around and wait for the industry to decide whether I am allowed to keep my games.
For me, physical PC collecting is not just nostalgia. It is a small personal answer to a bigger problem: games should be preserved, not erased. And if modern publishers want us to get comfortable not owning games, then I am going the other way.
I am getting more comfortable owning what I can.



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