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11:58, 02.07.2025
In recent years, we've often heard various expressions and slogans suggesting that the video game industry is "dying," with each person attributing different factors and arguments to this notion. Today, the loud topics concerning gaming are not only about graphics, FPS, optimization, microtransactions, and other technical aspects that affect the perception of the game itself, but also about game ownership rights—a rather specific and not always obvious topic, especially when legal aspects are rarely addressed.
This is where the Stop Killing Games movement, led by YouTuber Ross Scott (known as Accursed Farms), comes into play, becoming a focal point of tension in the discussion: what rights do players have after purchasing a digital game?
So let's delve into what this campaign is, where it originated, and what its goals are.
The Stop Killing Games movement is an initiative launched by video game consumers demanding that publishers maintain access to games even after servers are shut down—especially if the game was sold at full price. The idea behind the movement is that if a company takes away access to a game for which people have already paid, it's not just inconvenient—it's a form of digital destruction.
The campaign began in April 2024 when Ubisoft closed The Crew—a racing game with online dependency that sold over 12 million copies. Despite having a single-player mode, the game became completely inoperable once Ubisoft shut down the servers.
This wasn't the first game to "disappear," but this situation became the most public and painful, clearly highlighting a problem that had been accumulating for years. Players saw this not as an isolated incident but as a systemic flaw—the illusion of ownership in the digital age. The situation with The Crew once again raised the fundamental question: did players really own the game?
Ross Scott, known for the Freeman’s Mind series, has been involved in media preservation for many years. His campaign Stop Killing Games is not just a series of YouTube videos but a legal and political initiative that includes a petition within the European Citizens' Initiative—one of the few tools that can genuinely change EU legislation.
Ross's argument is clear: games sold without a clearly stated expiration date should not just disappear. The current system relies too heavily on the "goodwill" of publishers and doesn't guarantee that your gaming library will remain yours in 5, 10, or 20 years.
The Crew became the "spark." Ubisoft's decision to close the servers without an alternative resulted in all players—even those who played solo—losing access. They couldn't even launch the game. And this despite:
The outrage was not only about the game disappearing but the precedent: a publisher can destroy a product that's already been paid for—without the obligation to preserve it or refund the money.
Despite a simple slogan, the campaign has clear and practical goals. It doesn't demand the eternal preservation of all online functions—it's about reasonable access to purchased games, even after official support ends.
Main demands of Stop Killing Games include:
This movement does not demand that developers support games forever and does not aim to punish studios for closing outdated projects. The goal is fairness for the consumer and long-term access: those who bought a game should be able to play it—without time restrictions.
To achieve this goal, the campaign combines legal initiatives and public awareness. Ross Scott launched an official petition within the European Citizens' Initiative—a powerful mechanism that could potentially lead to new legislation in the EU. If the petition gathers the necessary number of signatures by the end of July 2025, it will be the first serious step in the legal protection of digital gaming.
This is both a matter of preserving cultural heritage and protecting consumer rights. Today, games are not just entertainment but also a form of modern digital art, and in some cases, an investment.
Not everyone agrees with the movement's goals or methods. One of the main critics of the campaign is independent developer and streamer Pirate Software (real name Jason Thor Hall), who released a video sharply criticizing the initiative. He called it vague, unrealistic, and potentially burdensome for small studios, leading to legal complications.
His main concerns:
According to Pirate, the requirement for every game to have a preservation path after server shutdowns could be detrimental to small developers. He also pointed out that the initiative distracts from more pressing digital rights issues.
The criticism significantly impacted the Stop Killing Games campaign: the number of signatures decreased, understanding waned, and many players stepped back.
Ross Scott responded directly, releasing a detailed video rebuttal in which he debunked all the claims and accusations made by Pirate Software. He explained that the campaign's goal is not eternal game support or an attack on small studios. It's about minimal guarantees for players—especially in cases where a game was sold without a clear expiration date.
The discussion between the two creators quickly turned into a public feud. Part of the community accused Pirate Software of derailing the campaign at a critical moment. Ross even claimed that this was the reason the number of petition signatures noticeably decreased. Meanwhile, Pirate Software's own game, Heartbound, began to be boycotted by players who felt betrayed.
This topic is much broader than The Crew, Ross Scott, or Pirate Software. At the heart of the Stop Killing Games movement lies a key question of modern times: when you buy a digital game—what exactly are you getting?
Unlike physical media, digital games can be removed at any time. They often depend on servers, accounts, or DRM systems that can be deactivated. Due to this fragility, video games are extremely difficult to preserve for the future. When a publisher shuts down a game—there is often no legal way to play it again. Without access to the source code or server-side components—even the best preservation efforts are powerless.
Books, movies, and music have libraries, archives, and established preservation institutions. Modern video games do not. Hundreds of games from the 2000s and 2010s are already completely lost, and players are forced to resort to piracy or emulators to relive the gaming experience. This is not just a consumer rights issue—it's a cultural catastrophe.
As of July 2025, the European Citizens' Initiative petition has gathered over 75% of the required signatures. With the deadline approaching, it's hard to say if it will reach its goal. However, even in the event of failure, the movement has already achieved something important—it has made the preservation of digital games a global discussion topic.
Prominent creators like MoistCr1TiKaL and SomeOrdinaryGamers publicly supported the initiative by spreading the word on YouTube and Twitch. Even if the petition isn't successful, pressure on the industry is increasing.
The movement has already reached several critical milestones:
For the first time, publishers are facing a direct question: what happens to a game after the servers are turned off?
Government bodies in France, Germany, and Australia have already begun reviewing complaints filed by the initiative, indicating serious attention to the issue from consumer protection authorities.
It's clear that the Stop Killing Games movement is aimed at good intentions for the gaming community, particularly for players who enjoy older games that have been around for years. Even despite the moral or technical aging of games, they remain beloved by many players who still spend time in these projects or at least occasionally return to them.
However, is it possible to achieve the ultimate goal and set objectives, and is it appropriate at all? Both yes and no. Developers take certain steps, such as shutting down servers due to internal reasons: extra costs, changes in future strategy, expiration of licenses, etc.
All this may be outlined in their legal documents, which is entirely legal and makes the whole Stop Killing Games battle for consumer rights meaningless, as users "are to blame for not reading it in the license agreement."
Many developers' and publishers' legal documents state that players purchase not the game itself but the right to use it. This is not obvious to everyone for objective reasons, as hardly anyone reads this game documentation.
Both sides (developers-publishers and Stop Killing Games) need to reach a mutual compromise, which, despite server shutdowns or other legal nuances, should provide access to the game: publish an official "pirate" version so that players can continue to enjoy it, or work to prevent such incidents in the future. Also, information about the right to use or ownership of the game should be made more open to the buyer once and for all.
Whether Ross Scott's campaign will change legislation is unknown and unlikely. But it has already set a direction that may bring changes to the gaming industry.
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