On July 1, Sony Interactive Entertainment announced it would discontinue producing physical discs beginning January 2028. New titles will be available to purchase and download directly from the PlayStation Store, which Sony professed was in response to consumer trends and a “general preference for digital media” over discs.
The problem? While many console games offer online features, those are bonuses – not required. You can typically play a PlayStation game by inserting the disc. But come 2028, you’ll need reliable WiFi, a PlayStation Network account and a credit or debit card to buy a game. The barrier to entry is higher. And if you wanted to borrow a game or grab it secondhand, soon you won’t be able to. You’ll have to get it directly from Sony.
The canary in the coal mine happened a few days earlier, when Rockstar Games — known for developing tentpole series like Grand Theft Auto, Red Dead Redemption, and Max Payne — revealed fans can buy the forthcoming Grand Theft Auto VI in stores, but the package will not contain a disc; rather, there’ll be a piece of paper with a download code. Predictably, online chaos (and jokes) ensued:
But Sony’s revelation had a different timbre — one that intones the end of physical discs for more than 100 million PlayStation gamers and portends an end across consoles. It’s apparent what this will mean for retailers like GameStop, Best Buy and, more concerningly, local and secondhand shops. But what happens when access is limited to just one source, and fans either have to play by its rules or risk getting unplugged?
In the mid 2010s, there was a growing trend of brick-and-mortar stores experimenting with cashless operations, which was intended to deliver faster service (no more cashiers counting your exact change), simplify bookkeeping, reduce risk of theft, “streamline” staffing and drive more revenue. After all, it has long been documented that people spend more when using a credit card versus paying cash.
Those operational decisions were quickly criticized as being both exploitative — taking advantage of the fact that credit cards activate our brains’ “reward centers” — and restrictive by limiting services only to those who can pay with plastic. Card-only payments would cut out a significant portion of buyers, including seniors, minors, recent immigrants and low-income consumers — who are coincidentally less likely to overspend — in favor of those with more flexible budgets.
Under this scrutiny, many of these businesses shifted back to cash/card optional operations and found other ways to streamline functions. It’s unclear how greatly card-only offerings would have improved sales at scale, considering that they would drive incremental purchases from one group but ostracize another. But what it did elucidate, or rather remind, is how easy it is for many businesses to deny services to swaths of people they do not deem valuable. It’s a long-suffering story of the haves and the have-nots.
Just like a coffee chain requiring card-only payments, Sony’s decision leaves a significant swath of consumers in the lurch. On the flip side, those who can easily access the PlayStation Network will likely bolster the company’s revenue — not necessarily from dopaminergic credit card swipes but because they have to pay whatever price Sony dictates. It could be $70, $100, $150. Without other retailers, you don’t really have a choice.
The perennial question remains: is it worth it? Do increased sales from one group, active PSN users, supersede the exclusion of another? Will consumers adapt, as they often do, to the point that those on the margins become negligible? Is anyone negligible?
We know that inclusion for inclusion’s sake generally falls short of being a corporate objective. At the end of the day, it is all about the bottom line. But for a long time, gaming felt like one of the few remaining spaces where there was something for everybody. Perhaps it still will be.
But Sony’s discontinuation of discs signifies a tremendous whittling of that space where consumers have less choice and flexibility. The irony of PlayStation’s “Play Has No Limits” mantra has never been more pronounced.
