Torres Wants You to Actually Own Your Digital Games

A Congressman Just Declared That Digital Games Are Not Property

Rep. Ritchie Torres sees something most Americans take for granted — the right to own what you buy — disappearing from their screens. His answer is The Power to the Players Act, legislation that would direct the Federal Trade Commission to write rules guaranteeing that digital game purchases translate into actual ownership, not revocable licenses that vanish when a company decides to pull the plug.

The bill has two clear mandates: ensure consumers own the digital games they pay for, and require online games to retain offline functionality once servers go dark. Torres cited NBA 2K25, a title barely two years old, as proof the system is broken. The company announced that its single-player modes would become unplayable when supporting servers shut down. Thousands of players who paid full price found themselves holding digital bricks.

“A game that can be taken away the moment a company pulls the plug is not a purchase,” Torres said. “It is a rental disguised as a sale.”

That framing matters. This is not a niche complaint about controllers or pricing. It is a challenge to the fundamental economics of digital distribution.

Why This Reaches Far Beyond Gaming

If the Power to the Players Act becomes law, its logic does not stop at video games. The same reasoning applies to eBooks, streaming music libraries, software subscriptions marketed as purchases, and any digital content sold with DRM that requires an active connection to function. The bill establishes a principle: when you pay for something, you should own it, and you should be able to use it independently of the seller’s continued cooperation.

That is a doctrine the tech and media industries have spent decades eroding. Physical media once guaranteed ownership. A DVD played on any player. A game cartridge worked regardless of whether the manufacturer still existed. Digital distribution replaced that certainty with convenience and control. Consumers traded permanence for instant access. Torres is asking Congress to reverse that trade.

The bill would give the FTC rulemaking authority — not a one-time mandate, but the power to write enforceable regulations. That is a significant delegation. The FTC would have to define what constitutes sufficient offline functionality, how ownership transfers are protected, and what remedies exist when companies revoke access to purchased content. Those definitions will determine whether the law has teeth or merely symbolism.

Who Benefits. Who Fights Back.

Gamers clearly win here. So do collectors, archivists, and anyone who has watched a licensed digital product disappear from their library. The fan community around the Stop Killing Games movement, which has campaigned for years to keep multiplayer titles playable after official support ends, would gain a federal backstop.

Console manufacturers and publishers are the opposition. Sony has already signaled it will eliminate physical games from its lineup by 2028. GTA 6 will launch without a physical edition. Both moves accelerate the shift toward a purely digital marketplace where every transaction is tracked, controlled, and potentially reversible. The Power to the Players Act would constrain that trajectory at exactly the moment the industry is leaning into it.

The economic case against the bill is familiar. Publishers argue that server infrastructure costs money, and sustaining multiplayer functionality indefinitely is not financially viable. They also contend that DRM protects intellectual property and prevents piracy. Torres’ counterargument is straightforward: consumers who paid for a product should not be penalized when maintenance costs exceed corporate expectations.

What publishers may not have factored in is the political risk. Torres represents the Bronx, a district where families save specifically to buy games for their children. The narrative of a corporation taking away something a child already paid for — something that cannot be resold, traded, or even played without permission — is politically potent. It translates easily. It does not require understanding EULAs or license agreements.

The Political Odds

Congressional bills face a steep climb from introduction to enactment. This one will need committee hearings, industry testimony, and likely a revised version that addresses valid concerns about implementation costs. The FTC rulemaking process alone could take years. Enforcement mechanisms remain undefined.

But the bill’s existence changes the conversation. Torres has put digital ownership on the legislative agenda, which means every major release that triggers a server shutdown now carries a reputational risk. Publishers that ignore the precedent risk being cited as examples in future congressional inquiry. The mere threat of regulation can shape corporate behavior even before a law is passed.

What Comes Next

The immediate fallout will center on NBA 2K25 and the companies planning 2028 hardware rollouts. Sony’s physical media exit was already controversial; a federal bill demanding ownership guarantees makes that decision look like a provocation. Take-Two Interactive, maker of NBA 2K, faces a choice: comply with the spirit of the legislation or become its first test case.

Internationally, the implications are worth watching. The European Union has already moved in a similar direction with its Right to Repair legislation and digital market regulations. If the U.S. establishes a federal standard for digital ownership, the EU may treat it as a benchmark rather than an outlier.

The broader question is whether the model of digital sales can survive this pressure. Not all content requires server access. Single-player games, eBooks, and music files can function entirely offline. The bill primarily targets the subset of digital products that depend on connectivity — the fast-growing category where ownership is most ambiguous.

Torres is not asking to abolish digital distribution. He is asking to restore a basic expectation: that buying something means you can use it. Whether Congress agrees remains to be seen. But the argument — simple, direct, and rooted in a concrete example of harm — is harder to dismiss than most legislation of this kind.