Those who spent their childhood and adolescence in the 1990s and 2000s know this deep connection with video games. Their personal history was largely shaped by countless hours spent before a console, a symbol of playful escape where the real world faded before the one offered by the television or computer screen. During those blessed years for this particular generation, these moments counted among the most precious sources of pleasure. These treasures took different forms: those over thirty remember cartridges, CD-ROMs, Blu-ray discs... now threatened with becoming museum relics. We remember well the excitement that followed us on the path to acquiring these objects whose insertion into the console was generally an important phase of that particular delight which began the moment we touched the cover, or felt the cartridge in our hands... and continued when the game started. A unique experience that risks now belonging only to history with Sony's announcement ending the sale of physical games in January 2028. From that date, new PlayStation games will no longer be available on physical disc. For those who had this relationship with the video game world since those golden ages, this news was a blow, the end of an era and the beginning of a new one in which longtime fans risk no longer recognizing themselves. From 2028 onwards, stores will no longer be a way to access new games, which will require internet. At that point, ownership will seem far less concrete than when you have tangible objects. It's as if you only obtain the right to access them, not possession of the work itself. A material dispossession that also deprives us of the possibility of reselling completed titles or those fraternal moments when we exchanged them. Philosopher Walter Benjamin argued that a work of art, in the age of technical reproducibility, loses part of its 'aura' when reproduced in multiple copies and ceases to be unique. But a video game, once purchased, possesses its own history and becomes part of a biography where it acquires a singularity that transcends its industrial origin. Its cover aged in a particular way, its case scratched over time according to a history all its own... It was thus an era when a video game was not merely a file: its material support was the keeper of a memory. Fenitra Ratefiarivony