What's a Video Game Worth? The Tricky Question of Price

Not long ago, an image of video game costs from the 1990s circulated online, adjusting for inflation to show what those games would cost today. While it's true that, on a purely inflationary basis, games from that era would be significantly more expensive now, this overlooks a crucial aspect of the gaming experience that has been fundamentally altered. The retail price of a video game in the 1990s was not just for the software - it was for a complete "thing" and a communal experience that enhanced the product and provided fond memories.

Back then, a video game was a physical product. It came in a large, colorful box that held a prominent place on your shelf, a tangible possession you could take with you when you moved. The process of acquiring it was an experience in itself. You would go on an adventure, often with friends or family, to a dedicated store like Babbages or KB Toys. You'd stand in front of that giant wall of games, a moment of anticipation and excitement as you contemplated your choice, perhaps guided by a friend's recommendation or a magazine review from a publication like Sega Visions. These memories and shared experiences were an integral part of the value you received for your money.

Over the years, a series of events has eroded this experience. The rise of big-box stores like K-mart and Walmart began to standardize and de-personalize the retail environment. Later, the convenience of online retailers like Amazon further diminished the "hunt" for a new game.

This shift arguably peaked during the Xbox 360 and PlayStation 3 generations, when specialty stores like Best Buy and GameStop were at their height, acting as a final evolution of the old mall shops. However, as internet speeds increased, the move toward digital distribution accelerated, and the joy of a physical purchase began to fade.

Today, that experience is almost entirely gone. With it, the perceived value of a video game has also changed. They have become little more than data coldly downloaded to a virtual library, a collection that is rarely browsed. The concept of ownership itself has been diluted. Many games are now part of subscription services, a virtual rental that can disappear from your library at a moment's notice. In the worst-case scenarios, "live service" games can be pulled from existence entirely. When you put things together like this, it is easy to see why modern games are picked apart like never before. The experience, from acquiring the game to waiting on the download to playing it is dull and devoid of most of the communal aspects we had in the past.

So, when people question why video games seem to be stuck at the same price as they were in the 1990s, they are missing the point. The modern video game, stripped of its physical form and the retail experience, offers a different kind of value. The argument isn't that today's games are too expensive based on 1990s inflation; rather, it's that if a modern, digital-only game had been released in 1990, the stripped-down product would have been valued at a fraction of the cost - perhaps closer to $20 in 1990s money, not the $59.99 or $69.99 we see today.

In many ways, the gaming experience is similar to what we see with movies and the theater. You can't recreate the big screen experience with all its trappings - the collective atmosphere, the popcorn, the sense of an "event" at home. It's the same with games. Having a physical thing to hold and play is part of gaming's DNA. A download, like a streaming service, is a different experience, and it's priced that way.

Thank you for reading. Questions, comments: ljbaby654@gmail.com

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This video history of Babbage's also explains the history of video games.