#oneaday Day 108: The Future of Gaming? God, I Hope Not

So Google announced Stadia recently, and tech enthusiasts have been tripping over themselves to be the first to declare it "the future of gaming".

I really hope it isn't. Past experience with tech such as OnLive and PlayStation Now suggests that it probably won't be. But the risk factor is significantly higher now than it has been. And if it somehow does end up being the future of gaming… well, that's where I jump off from staying "current", and start to fill out my collections for past generations.

For the uninitiated, Stadia is a platform that allows you, through any web browser and theoretically any Web-connected device, to stream video games. That means no downloads, no installing, no patching, just click on a game and start playing. The game itself runs on Google's hardware — which they claim is more powerful than the current PS4 Pro and Xbox One X combined — and the video output is streamed back to you, in glorious 4K 60fps HDR and all those numbers and acronyms that only people more interested in tech than content care about.

It's a good idea on paper. A standardised platform will be good for triple-A developers in particular, who would be able to focus on making one version of their game work really well rather than three or four, and no-one will be left out in the cold because they don't have the latest iteration of a particular hardware platform. So long as your Internet connection is up to the job of streaming 4K 60fps HDR video, of course. And for many people at the moment, that's a big "if".

There are so many problems I have with this, though — chief among them being the idea of ownership. With a streaming service, you don't own anything, you're renting at best. And as such, you're even more at the mercy of publishers, licensing agreements and all manner of other bullshit than we already are with the digital marketplace. Want to play this game which the license for the cars used in has already expired? Tough luck, it's gone. Want to play that game in which a Japanese voice actor got into trouble for being caught with cocaine? Sorry, we had to remove it. Want to play Scott Pilgrim vs. The World? Never heard of it!

Meanwhile I can go to my PS2 shelf right now, pull down OutRun 2006: Coast 2 Coast and play it. Hm. Score one for the physical generation.

The physical matter is a big deal to me. I value games as possessions as much as the experiences I have with them. I've long been a proponent of the idea of "crystallised memories" — the idea that physical possessions can be embodiments of experiences that were important to you. And for me, this is true whether it's an indirect association — the object makes you think of something tangentially related to it — or a direct one where you remember specific things you did with that specific object.

One might argue that placing importance on this side of things leads to hoarding, and perhaps that's true for some people. But I only keep hold of those things that are genuinely important to me. Over the years, I've ditched lots of things that I just… "had". But the games in my collection? I have associations with important memories for pretty much each and every one on my shelf, and they are not things I want to abandon. With "the streaming future", that significant and important part of my hobby would be denied to me in future years.

There's also the question of disposability. Few can deny that music and movie streaming services have very much found a place in modern society… but even the most ardent enthusiasts of these services acknowledge that they devalue the individual works and make them far more disposable.

Music is particularly prone to this. When was the last time you sat down and actually listened to a full album from start to finish? (For me, it was February 11 of this year) Probably not for a while. Chances are you've picked and chosen your favourite tracks from several thousand albums and added them to your "chillout" or "motivational" playlists, then put them on while you're trying to get things done. They're just background noise rather than something to be appreciated on their own merits. And this isn't even getting into how much harder the streaming world has made it for musicians to make a living from what they do.

When I buy a game, it's because I look forward to the experience I will have with it. I've mentioned before that I specifically add games to my collection not to particularly try and be "complete" or anything, but because they are things I am interested in experiencing and writing about. I buy a game with the intention of experiencing it to its fullest; things I buy with Cover Game features in mind in particular are games that I know I'm going to be playing from start to finish, no questions asked.

I make an investment in these games. Even if I have no intention of playing a new acquisition immediately, it's an investment for the future. It has value. I've specifically chosen to bring it into my life, and as such I intend to make the most of it.

With a streaming service, I have none of that sense of "attachment". It becomes more of a case of "what do I feel like today?" and picking from a huge list. And I feel this, ultimately, will discourage people from seeing games through to their conclusion — something that the industry as a whole already struggles with, hence the rise of odious "games as a service" practices that aim to keep people invested (both in terms of time and money) in the long term. Because even if you're just paying a flat rate to access all of Stadia's content — and the details of this haven't been announced yet — you can bet your billy-o that EA and its ilk will still be ramming their games full of microtransactions. In fact, they'll have even more incentive to do this if they're competing for a slice of subscription fees rather than getting people to buy new copies of games at launch.

Thankfully, there is a certain amount of hope here. In both the music and movie sectors, the physical markets may be smaller, but they still exist — and even cater specifically to those who place importance on physical versions. Vinyl, a format once thought completely dead, is making a comeback. CDs are often cheaper than digital albums. Alternative methods of physical distribution such as USB devices and Blu-Ray discs are being explored.

Similarly, the gaming industry is responding. There will be a physical version of Cuphead — a previously digital-only game — on Switch, and if Nintendo has any sense, more like this will follow. "Boutique" limited-run publishers are thriving. Niche publishers put out affordable, high-quality limited editions that celebrate their new releases. And, talking to people online, I'm not the only person who still likes holding a new game in their hands rather than just clicking "download" — or, worse, "stream".

The future of gaming? Not if I have anything to say about it.