The Video Game Library
November 9, 2010 § Leave a comment
Paul Wheatley, a specialist in digital preservation at the British Library, expressed an interest this week in preserving our video gaming heritage. “At the very least,” he said, “I would like the British Library to provide support to the NVA based on this digital preservation expertise and I’m hoping we can collaborate further.”
The implication here is a valid one; we simply don’t do enough as an industry to preserve our past. The arrival of a new hardware cycle is all it takes for us to lose legitimate access to thousands of games which, for the most part, won’t ever be ‘legally’ available again.
Take Castlevania: Symphony of the Night as an example. The game is a classic, one of the greatest to ever appear on the Playstation, and yet Europeans are stuck with a single option if they want to experience it once again. They must get their hands on an emulator with no official support, and download a disk image from a dark corner of the internet. This is a best case scenario, other games, such as the acclaimed Rogue Squadron for the Nintendo 64 aren’t yet playable by this means.
The potential to dig out all the old hardware is there of course, but this becomes significantly harder when the various equipment necessary hasn’t been on store shelves in a good long while. Even when people do put in the effort to do everything above board, their money is unlikely to to go anywhere near the people that poured their heart and soul into the game.
Teams of passionate individuals who work in their spare time on various console emulators are the unsung heroes of our industry. These people don’t get paid (for the most part), they don’t get supported, and every step they make is an uphill struggle against the closed hardware the majority of our games now run on. It is simply ridiculous that a commercialised industry for emulating old consoles doesn’t exist.
The Wii’s Virtual Console, as well as the inclusion of original Playstation games on the Playstation Network, is a noble effort indeed, but in the grand scheme of things it’s little more than a drop in the ocean. Work to make old games available through this service has been hampered by bureaucracy at every turn, bringing serious doubt to the financial viability of each inclusion.
The final nail in the coffin is that the proportion of the gaming audience interested in playing ten or even five year old games is going to be tiny compared to the total gaming market as it now stands, and that’s just for the blockbusters of yesteryear. Finding anyone interested in playing, let alone paying for AeroWings for the Dreamcast is a business endeavour only a fool would embark upon.
The capitalists amongst you might argue that this should be the end of the discussion; that if there’s not enough demand to fund such work then it shouldn’t be done. You have a point of course, but just because the majority of people aren’t interested in something, doesn’t mean it isn’t worthwhile. After all, the popularity of sites such as Gamespot and IGN shows us that most people want nothing to do with anything beyond news, reviews, and previews from their video gaming journalism but that doesn’t mean we’re wasting our time here at Bitmob.
My argument here is not that I want access to every retro game in order to play and enjoy them, but that it’s important for our history to be able to. There aren’t going to be many games made today that people will still want to play in fifty years, but that doesn’t mean that they won’t have contributed a great deal to the industry as a whole.
Take kill.switch as an example. When it was released it was a pretty standard third-person shooter with a nifty little thing called a ‘cover mechanic’. It was fun, but nothing special, not special enough to warrant an HD re-release at any rate. Nowadays, with the inclusion of the cover-mechanic in dozens of games this generation, could anyone really claim that kill.switch wasn’t a milestone?
On its most basic level this could mean collecting together physical copies of games as they’re released, as well as the hardware they run on, and storing them in a library of sorts, for gaming historians to peruse at their leisure.
Taking this idea step further however, in a perfect world anyone could access this library at any time from the comfort of their own home. Emulator teams need to be officially supported, and disk images made available by legitimate means. Some sort of public domain would be needed here, a stipulation that after a game has been out of print for ten years or so (so as to not harm present day sales), then the government should be free to force publishers to make it’s source code available online.
This idea is utopian I’ll admit. After all we haven’t even been able to digitise the public libraries of the world yet, and those are all made up of books likely to take up a couple of megabytes at most in virtual form. Current copyright laws would also prove troublesome, since the lawyers wouldn’t be too happy with all this information going out for free.
In reality, it’s probably a completely impossible proposition to expect companies to make their back catalogues available for free, even with an unlikely government push behind the movement. As much as I hate to say it, thousands of titles will likely never be legitimately available again.
This doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try and change things now. Perhaps legislation could be enacted to force games made from now on to be publicly released after they’ve gone out of print, ensuring that copyright documents written today are aware of this eventuality. It wouldn’t do much for the hundreds of Dreamcast games that are impossible to find today, but it’d certainly be a start.
It seems like a small issue currently, but with console hardware getting as complicated as it is, it’s only going to get harder and harder for emulator teams as time goes on. We need to start seriously thinking about video game libraries now, because with every year that goes by more and more games are released that could potentially be lost. In all likelihood, the issue isn’t going to become apparent until it’s far too late.