Sergio Ferreira, an intellectual property lawyer at the UK law firm Knights, shares his thoughts on the ongoing Stop Killing Games petition.
If you have been keeping up to date with gaming news, you will no doubt have heard of the Stop Killing Games initiative, started by YouTuber Ross Scott.
While I appreciate the intention behind it, the petition runs the risk of doing more damage than good, and fails to propose a clear and proportionate way forward in dealing with the subject at hand.
Firstly, not all games are created equal. There’s a fundamental technical distinction between offline-first games that are designed to run entirely on local hardware (like my personal game of the year contender Clair Obscur: Expedition 33) and online-server dependent games like Fortnite or Destiny, which are built around server-side systems that manage gameplay logic, progression, anti-cheat systems, and so on.
Even if a developer wanted to release the server code, they would most likely be in breach of their contractual obligations by doing so
For online-server games, the server is not simply a communications tool – it’s often integral to the game’s operation. This means developers cannot simply ‘flip a switch’ to make a game self-sufficient. Rewriting the game logic to run locally would require extensive engineering work, with no commercial upside and considerable IP risk for developers.
In some cases, server codes will use licensed middleware (such as physics engines, matchmaking libraries, or proprietary hosting frameworks) that developers do not own and cannot legally redistribute. Even if a developer wanted to release the server code, they would most likely be in breach of their contractual obligations by doing so.
The situation becomes even more complex when licensed content is involved. Take Fortnite, which regularly licenses music, skins, and likenesses (e.g., Eminem, Marvel characters, or real-world footballers). If Epic were to shut the game down, retaining this content for offline use could require expensive re-licensing or force the removal of large portions of the game experience.
While Fortnite is free-to-play, meaning players are not directly out of pocket for the core experience (assuming we do not count any money spent on V-Bucks), I appreciate that the same cannot be said of The Crew.
However, The Crew, even as a paid title, is not exempt from the above issues. It featured real-world licensed vehicles from manufacturers like Ford, Ferrari, and McLaren, as well as a licensed soundtrack. It is not unreasonable at all to believe that expiring or non-renewable licenses were a key factor behind Ubisoft’s decision to terminate the game after nearly a decade of service.
What is unreasonable is to expect to be able to play a live-service game which is online-server dependent for eternity. Gaming sits in a very unique position within the entertainment industry: unlike films, books, or music, many modern games are not self-contained works, but live services built around server-based architectures, ongoing content updates, and interactive systems that require constant maintenance and third-party licensing.
Preserving these experiences isn’t as simple as slapping some files on GitHub and calling it a day – it often means reconstructing an entire ecosystem, one that in this particular discussion was never designed to function independently or indefinitely. While the desire to preserve culturally significant titles is valid and important, it must be balanced with the practical realities of infrastructure costs, legal rights, and development intent.
Preserving these experiences isn’t as simple as slapping some files on GitHub and calling it a day
In the UK, consumers don’t ‘own’ most games in the way they might think. Most digital games are licensed under an End User Licence Agreement (EULA), which limits the scope of what users can do with the product. This is a licence to use a digital service, not a transfer of IP ownership.
When a game is taken offline, it may be frustrating, but it’s not unlawful. The terms of service and IP licenses that underpin most games explicitly allow publishers to withdraw access.
The real value of the Stop Killing Games initiative lies in the conversation it has sparked. Here are two legally and commercially realistic suggestions to productively move the conversation forward, without burdening developers with disproportionate costs, and without taking away their agency in decision-making.
1. Mandatory digital service labelling
Games could be required to disclose – in a prominent, clear, and transparent manner at the point of sale – whether they are ‘server-dependent.’ This consumer transparency approach would help consumers to appreciate the nature of what they are purchasing, make informed decisions, and avoid the frustration of losing access to a product they believed they ‘owned’.
2. Tiered preservation frameworks
Rather than requesting legislation that imposes a one-size-fits-all mandate for developers to fully enable offline play or release source code, a tiered preservation framework would provide flexible, practical options for how online games are ended.
Under this framework, game publishers and developers could voluntarily choose one of three tiers, each reflecting different levels of preservation effort and resource commitment:
- Tier 1: Providing limited offline modes (e.g., bot matches, training maps, and/or local wireless multiplayer).
- Tier 2: Partnerships with preservation institutions under controlled access.
- Tier 3: Escrow arrangements (i.e., arrangements involving storing essential game code or server tools with a trusted third party, to be released under specific, pre-agreed conditions), or private server licenses with limitations.
Crucially, whichever option a developer opts for must be communicated transparently and prominently to consumers at the point of sale. Not hidden in terms and conditions pages or legal jargon, but with language that the average consumer can understand. This empowers players to make informed purchasing decisions and effectively ‘vote with their wallets’ by supporting games and developers whose preservation approach aligns with their expectations.
Consumers deserve more clarity, and culturally significant online games should not vanish without a trace
This approach balances developer flexibility, commercial realities, and consumer rights by encouraging the market to reward preservation practices without heavy-handed mandates.
The Stop Killing Games campaign does raise an important issue: consumers deserve more clarity, and culturally significant online games should not vanish without a trace. But the legal and technical landscape is complicated, and preservation shouldn’t be mandated by misguided discourse.
For real change to happen, proposals must reflect the realities of IP law, contract obligations, and server infrastructure. Preservation matters, but how we get there matters too.
