Preorders for Grand Theft Auto VI went live yesterday, and the most anticipated game of the decade wasted no time breaking the internet. Within hours, storefronts buckled, retailer pages crawled to a halt, and social feeds filled with screenshots of confirmation emails. After years of waiting, the hype is very, very real.
But buried in the fine print is a detail that's already souring the celebration for one group of players: the physical edition doesn't actually contain the game. Open the case and you won't find a disc — just a slip of paper with a download code printed on it.
For collectors, that's a nightmare. A "physical" copy that's really a cardboard box and a code isn't something you own so much as something you've been licensed. There's no disc to lend to a friend, no disc to resell when you're done, and no disc to slot into a console a decade from now when the servers are long gone. The shelf centrepiece becomes a glorified voucher — and one that's worthless the moment it's redeemed.
It isn't entirely new. Publishers have quietly shipped "code in a box" releases for years, especially for collector's bundles and Switch titles. But watching the single biggest launch in gaming history go down this road feels like a tipping point. If GTA VI can get away with it, the fear is that everyone will.
There's a real argument on the other side. Discs are expensive to manufacture, install times are brutal, and most players download the day-one patch anyway. Digital is where the industry is heading, and pretending otherwise helps no one.
Still, there's something quietly sad about it. Part of the joy of a landmark release is the ritual — the midnight pickup, the case in your hands, the row of spines on the shelf that tells the story of the games you loved. Trade that for a code, and you've traded ownership for access.
We'll dive into GTA VI properly the moment it's playable — review, trophies and a full platinum roadmap, as always. Just don't expect the box on our shelf to have anything inside it.