kibasnowpaw
Well-Known Member
The photo shows only part of my physical game collection. Across my six CLZ collections I currently have 364 registered games and editions, including my main collection, sealed games, account-locked releases, incomplete copies, games that need replacing and duplicates kept for sale. Most are physical PC games, and I only started collecting them seriously a few months ago. During that time, the project has changed the way I think about digital ownership, game preservation and where I am willing to spend my money. If we call ourselves gamers and genuinely care about where gaming is heading, then I think there comes a point where we must stop accepting every new restriction simply because it is convenient. We need to draw a line in the sand. Mine is that I have stopped spending ordinary personal money on new Steam games.
I am not deleting Steam, abandoning the thousands of games I already own there or pretending that every game will suddenly disappear tomorrow. I will continue playing what is already in my library. I will also accept free keys when developers or publishers send me games for reviews, and I may occasionally buy something using Steam Wallet credit earned by selling CS2 drops and other Marketplace items. What I will no longer do is transfer fresh money from my bank account into a system where my entire collection ultimately remains connected to one account and one company. Valve’s own Subscriber Agreement states that Steam content is licensed rather than sold, that the licence does not give the user ownership of the content and that using it requires a Steam account, with the Steam client or an internet connection potentially also required. That is not a conspiracy theory or an attack on Valve; it is simply the contractual structure of the service. Steam is extremely convenient, but convenience and ownership are not the same thing.
My possible exception will be GOG. GOG purchases are still digital, but the technical difference matters to me. GOG describes its games as DRM-free, provides offline installers and makes the Galaxy client optional. Once the installers have been downloaded, they can be backed up and installed without constantly proving ownership through a launcher. GOG also explicitly describes the ability to play offline, back up the files and run games without a mandatory client as part of its DRM-free model. That gives me something Steam generally does not: a self-contained installer that I can personally preserve.
Because I use Linux, I have taken that idea further. I created a mostly automated setup that turns my legally purchased GOG offline installers into organised physical game archives. Each game can have its own presentation, files and launcher without me needing to rewrite the underlying code for every title. I can preserve the installers on hard drives, and I can burn personal archive copies onto the large number of blank CDs and DVDs I once received for free. I am not claiming that a burned disc magically becomes an original retail release. It is an archival copy of a DRM-free installer I legitimately acquired. The important part is that I can put the disc on a shelf, install the game later and launch it through my own Linux setup without relying on a storefront client still existing or recognising my account.
My physical collection also proves that collecting PC games does not have to be an expensive hobby. According to my CLZ records, I have registered a combined purchase cost of approximately 2,428 DKK for 362 games and editions, an average of only about 6.71 DKK each. CLZ currently estimates nearly 26,000 DKK in combined value for the roughly 299 entries it can match to pricing information, but I do not treat that as a guaranteed sale value. Price databases can confuse standard releases with Collector’s Editions, use thin sales data or assign inflated values to the wrong regional version. I have already seen ordinary copies of Diablo II and Risen 2 incorrectly connected to expensive Collector’s Editions. The purchase price is therefore the number that matters most to me: hundreds of physical releases acquired for less than many people spend on four or five modern games.
One of my largest single days produced 66 physical games and editions for 545 DKK, averaging approximately 8.26 DKK each. That included 46 games for 310 DKK, three games for 25 DKK, another 16 for 160 DKK and a large World of Warcraft Battle Chest for 50 DKK. The haul included Arcanum: Of Steamworks and Magick Obscura, Diablo II with Lord of Destruction, Icewind Dale II, Might and Magic VII, Sacred Gold, Neverwinter Nights, Neverwinter Nights 2, The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion with its map and manual, Call of Duty, Command & Conquer: Generals – Zero Hour, an Age of Empires Collector’s Edition and several sealed releases. Some were German editions, one was Swedish, others were Danish or English, and several were different physical versions of games I already knew. They are not all rare treasures, but that is not the point. For the price of one new deluxe digital release, I recovered an entire section of PC gaming history.
Getting prices like that requires patience. I search charity shops, flea markets, second-hand stores and places such as Kirppu rather than immediately paying online collector prices. Most visits produce little or nothing. Sometimes I find three games for 20 or 25 DKK; sometimes I find 40 or 50 games priced between one and five kroner each. I generally refuse to pay more than 10 DKK unless it is a specific game or edition I have been actively looking for. I have made exceptions, such as 75 DKK for Black & White 2 and 50 DKK for the World of Warcraft Battle Chest, but those are deliberate purchases rather than impulse buying. Thinking before buying is what makes the collection affordable.
Physical collecting is not perfect. Discs can be scratched, suffer from disc rot, contain the wrong game or arrive without manuals. Cardboard boxes can be crushed, and old product keys or online services may no longer work. I have found circular drive scratches, coffee-damaged manuals, incorrect discs inside cases, missing installation CDs and boxes somebody had forced shut with the contents packed incorrectly. I inspect the discs, record the condition in CLZ, separate incomplete games, replace damaged copies when a better one appears and combine duplicate copies only when the discs and editions genuinely match. A physical collection requires work, but the problems are visible. I can inspect a scratch, test whether a disc reads completely and search for a missing manual. With an account-controlled licence, the problem can exist entirely outside my home and outside my control.
Preservation is not merely nostalgia. The Video Game History Foundation found that 87 percent of the classic games in its study were no longer commercially available. It identified rights disputes, technical problems, low expected commercial value and digital-store shutdowns among the reasons games disappear. Digital distribution has made games easier to buy today, but it has not guaranteed that they will remain obtainable tomorrow.
I am not saying every gamer must fill a room with plastic cases, and I am not attacking independent developers who depend on digital sales. I still support indie projects when I believe in the idea, and DRM-free digital distribution can be a legitimate part of preservation. My argument is about what we reward. When customers repeatedly accept mandatory launchers, account locks, non-transferable licences, disappearing releases and games that require remote permission to continue functioning, companies learn that there is no meaningful limit to what we will tolerate. Complaining while continuing to buy everything changes very little.
My response is to use the part of the market where I still have a choice. I will play the Steam games I already possess, use free review keys, spend Marketplace credit rather than new personal money, consider DRM-free GOG releases that provide independent offline installers and continue rescuing physical PC games from shops that often price them as if they are worthless. My shelves are not just decoration. They are a practical archive, a Linux project, a record of PC gaming history and my refusal to let access controlled by an account become the only accepted meaning of owning a game.
That collection is my line in the sand.

