I’m a big supporter of physical games. There’s something satisfying about owning a disc, lending it to a friend, or grabbing a bargain without waiting for a digital storefront to approve the price. But Phantom Blade Zero has me questioning one of the biggest arguments in the physical-versus-digital debate. The game’s digital version launches on October 29, 2026, while its physical PS5 editions, including Standard, Deluxe, and Ultimate versions, won’t arrive until 2027.
And there’s another wrinkle: the digital version reportedly needs up to 134GB of storage, raising questions about how much of the game can actually fit on a standard Blu-ray disc. A standard PS5 Ultra HD Blu-ray disc maxes out at 100GB, so Phantom Blade Zero may need to ship across multiple discs or require players to download additional data to finish installing it. Either way, the idea of popping in a disc and having the complete game ready to play gets a little murkier.
The timing is also hard to ignore, with Sony reportedly planning to end production of physical discs for new PlayStation games from January 2028. I still don’t want physical games to disappear, but when a disc can’t hold the whole game, I’m beginning to understand why Sony sees an all-digital future as more practical.
A game disc isn’t always the complete game anymore
Here’s where things get complicated. See, back in the day, buying a game on disc generally meant getting a finished version that could be installed and played without relying on a server to supply missing chunks of the experience. Developers were forced to ship a stable, feature-complete build because there was no safety net of a day-one patch waiting in the wings.
Today, games routinely receive patches, performance fixes, balance changes, and content updates after release. That isn’t inherently bad: games are more ambitious, and developers can fix problems that would once have remained forever. But it also means the disc in the box doesn’t always represent the best, most complete version of the game.
Look at Cyberpunk 2077 and No Man’s Sky. Both launched with significant issues and went on to receive substantial updates that improved the experience, with Cyberpunk 2077 also getting the Phantom Liberty expansion and No Man’s Sky adding years of new content. Those are great examples of developers continuing to improve their games, but they also highlight how much the experience can change after a disc has been pressed.
A disc can’t preserve data that was never put on it in the first place.
A physical copy may still contain a playable base game, and that matters. But if the disc is little more than a licence or installer that depends on downloading essential files, the ownership argument starts looking shaky.
Sony has a point, but it needs to do more than remove the disc drive
This is where I reluctantly see Sony’s side of the argument. Digital games are convenient, instantly accessible, and don’t require manufacturing, shipping, or shelf space. They’re also easier to update, and players don’t have to get up to swap discs every time they fancy jumping between games.
But convenience isn’t the same as ownership. Digital purchases can be tied to platform accounts and storefronts, while a delisted game may become impossible for new buyers to obtain. Physical copies can offer a way around that problem, provided the disc contains enough of the game to remain playable. They also preserve the second-hand market, letting players sell, lend, and buy used games.
Sony’s move toward digital may make business sense, but it shouldn’t mean abandoning those benefits without offering something in return.
Microsoft has at least started exploring a middle ground with its Xbox Disc-to-Digital feature. Owners of supported Xbox One and Xbox Series X discs can claim a digital licence, install the game, and access it without keeping the disc in the drive. There are caveats: not every game is supported, and Microsoft says the licence remains linked to the disc, so players shouldn’t assume they can safely sell their collections afterward.
Still, it’s a more interesting approach than simply telling physical-media fans to get with the times. Sony could offer something similar, ideally with clear guarantees about continued access, offline play, and what happens when a game leaves the store.
Ultimately, Phantom Blade Zero doesn’t prove that physical games are pointless. It proves that a disc is only as valuable as the game it actually preserves. If it contains a complete, playable version, it remains a meaningful piece of ownership. If it merely points to a download that could disappear when a storefront shuts down, that plastic circle isn’t doing much heavy lifting. I’m not ready to give up my game collection, and Sony shouldn’t force players to choose between convenience and ownership. But if the industry can make digital purchases more permanent, transferable, and reliable, I can see a future where the disc becomes optional rather than essential.
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