Video Games: Consumer Law

Warinder Juss Excerpts

Monday 3rd November 2025 Westminster Hall

[Ben Goldsborough]

This is the thing about gaming: it is not just about the creative arts; it is also about science and technology. Cambridge bats above its average not just within the UK but on the global stage. I am very proud, as an East Anglian MP, to have my hon. Friend’s constituency next door providing this for the future.

The nature of games has changed. Many modern titles are live services, constantly updated, server-dependent and with ongoing operational costs. That is not inherently a bad thing—live services have created vibrant global communities—but it has changed what it means to own a game. Gamers still feel the deep sense of personal possession, because they invest more than money; they invest time, effort, imagination and friendship. When a game shuts down without clear notice, that investment is lost and a shared world disappears. The Video Game History Foundation estimates that 87% of games released before 2010 are now critically endangered.

[Warinder Juss (Wolverhampton West) (Lab)]

I received an email from a constituent explaining how his beloved video games have been rendered unplayable when the company decides to end server support. We do not accept our mobile phones being switched off whenever a company wants us to buy its new model, so why should we allow thousands of pounds’ worth of games to be made unplayable, just because new games have been introduced? Does my hon. Friend agree that, when we buy a video game, we own it to play it whenever we want, and we need regulation to ensure that? It is not an unreasonable ask of the multi-million pound companies producing these games.

[Ben Goldsborough]

My hon. Friend makes a really important point. What is it to own a video game? What is it to keep the background services running? Is it an interactive process going forward with multiple users, or is it just a single-access game?

When a game shuts down, it is not just a consumer issue but a cultural one. This debate is not just about keeping games playable; it is about preserving our cultural heritage. The National Videogame Museum in Sheffield already does fantastic work to document, curate and celebrate this history, but we need to support institutions like it further. I urge the Government to explore funding, partnerships and sector support to ensure that we maintain a library full of significant games—not necessarily the full playable versions, but assets, scripts, soundtracks and design documents. We would never dream of pulping every copy of Shakespeare, and we should not think any differently about video games.

We have seen what is possible when communities are empowered. When “Doom” was released decades ago, it sparked an entire ecosystem of mods, creativity and eventually genre-defining innovation. We also see it with ROM-hacking communities, especially around older titles such as “Super Mario World”. I am the first to admit that I cannot play “Kaizo Mario World” for toffee—those levels are punishing. But I do enjoy watching streamers such as BarbarousKing both creating the “Grand Poo World Trilogy”—this is the first time that Hansard has had to write that down—and playing it live. That highlights yet another modern element of gaming culture—streaming. Platforms such as Twitch have turned gameplay into performance art, commentary and community. People gather to cheer, learn, laugh and share. This, too, is culture, and it deserves to be safeguarded.

I want to be absolutely clear that this debate is not anti-industry. Running online games costs real money. Servers, hardware, maintenance contracts, security and teams of engineers all cost money. Requiring developers to define end-of-life strategies up front could stifle innovation and create unintended risks. But gamers deserve clarity. If a game is likely to go offline, they should be told that.