War on Used games?

I've been reading hints here and there that the next Microsoft console may somehow block used games...this strikes me as absolutely insane, and also perfectly predictable.
It makes sense that publishers would want to cut out the middleman (Gamestop et al) and channel all profits back to themselves and (hopefully) the developers. Downloadable, digital-delivery content is growing in popularity and availability, and can side-step secondary vendors completely. There's no such thing as second-hand digital content...unless you pirate or download cracked software.
Blocking used physical-copy games would simply put them on the same footing as digital content, right?

Here are my objections:

1. When I buy a _thing_, I expect to OWN it. Most people do! There is a concerted effort these days, on the part of large corporations, to convince customers (sorry: consumers) that they are in fact paying for the privilege of a media experience, rather than for the object itself. That makes some sense--a DVD is a few cents worth of plastic; in itself worthless. Problem: this argument means that players will ideally be _renting_ their gaming experience for $60 bucks a pop. Ridiculous. I can go to a rental place and experience all 6 hours of the latest AAA shooter for a few bucks.
If I fork out the full amount, I expect to have something that is MINE.

2. A game that cannot be re-played, or shared, or played on another machine etc etc. is a broken product. A game should not be designed to _become broken_ at any point. This is insane. Most consumer products are designed to become obsolescent at some point, but no-one would buy cars if they were _designed_ to break down after 1 year or 5,000 miles, whichever comes earlier. The same should go for games.
To define games as delivered experiences rather than purchased products completely devalues the time, money spent, and dignity of the customer, er, consumer. Unfortunately, this argument is so widespread these days that it's gaining major traction; for some people, the freedom to consume without owning is a wonderful, freeing thing. You can bet that the designers of this system are rubbing their hands with glee.

3. Games depreciate in value. Let's assume for now that physical-copy games are rented experiences, similar to games purchased online in that the physical media is simply the delivery system and the experience itself is the product.
When I rent or buy a 3-year old game, I am playing a depreciated product: the graphics aren't as good as those of a more recent game, and multiplayer is either a ghost-town (because everyone has migrated to the latest multiplayer game) or has been discontinued entirely. The experience may be "the same" as when the product was new (minus multiplayer), but it does not have the same value. So don't try to tell me that someone purchasing a used game is a "lost sale" because they would have otherwise purchased it new. This is completely false.

4. If the point of killing the used physical-copy game market is to inspire gamers to pay full price for their gaming experiences with each and every purchase, then what happens to physical-copy rental stores? Under this model, they would wither. That's some evil shit right there. Maybe publishers will allow gamers to download "rentals" that go dormant after the rental period has expired--like Netflix for games--but this would use such incredibly massive amounts of bandwidth that it would hamstring many gamers who can't get the bandwidth.

5. This would murder the modding community. Again, no company wants gamers digging around in its code and content, and possibly spreading it around the internet. Publishers want to sell us a wagon and show us exactly how fun it is to roll down a grassy slope that they have carefully designed at great expense, and be thankful for it. And when we're done experiencing that grassy slope--perhaps feeling a little empty and dissatisfied with how we've spent our money--they want to take the wagon back. Games can be like toys, but publishers would rather that games play with consumers, rather than the other way around.


Today, I can rent or buy a depreciated game and play it for a much less money than by purchasing it new. I can also buy online, from Steam for example, and get an older game for less. So, essentially, regardless of what prices publishers might command for their digitally-delivered content, the end result is that all game purchases will be driven online. There are some problems with this:

1. Online purchases require credit cards, which many younger players do not have.
2. Credit card data, stored online, is vulnerable. The hacking incidents of 2011 make this very clear.
3. Online profiles, passwords, memberships, etc. etc. are also vulnerable to hacking and information theft.
4. Modern AAA games are _massive_ downloads. Believe it or not, there are many avid, gaming Americans and Canadians without the reliable high-speed non-capped internet necessary to download games.
5. Online delivery services are subject to failure in a way that physical media is not. If a website goes down, if the cloud-based service I am "renting" my games from gets shut down by the FBI for distributing contested intellectual property, then I am shit out of luck, and wishing I could just put a disc in my machine. Maybe I'm getting absurd now, but it could happen.

All of this is probably pure speculation at this point, and I'm probably silly to even participate, but I can see this kind of autocratically controlled, product-free, "experience-delivery" system taking over our future freedom to own what we buy. When I was a design student, we were all encouraged to think about service-based solutions rather than product-based solutions, because service-based solutions tend to be more environmentally friendly, easier to sell, and easier to update. It didn't occur to me, at the time, how nefarious the concept could become

Needless to say, if this becomes fact in any way, I am _done_. I'll play f*cking boardgames, and love it. I refuse to live by subscription.