The Case and the Work

There is a word that divides video game collecting like few others: grading. For critics, it is a practice that seals forever an object born to be used; for supporters, it is the tool that will ensure it reaches those who come after us intact. We discussed it with Carlo Santagostino, historian of computing and science communicator, in a long conversation born from the discussions of the Retrocamera community. His reading, against the grain of popular opinion, is the heart of the conversation: here are the key points, in the video the full interview.

The first point Santagostino is keen to clarify is that grading is not a recent invention imposed on video games. Certification of collectible items is a historical practice: in Italy Bolaffi was already certifying stamps in the Sixties, and here we simply spoke of certifications, before the Anglo-Saxon term became established. In video games, the practice comes from the United States and has been established for about fifteen years: not a sudden phenomenon, but the natural extension of what mature collecting has always done.

The second issue concerns prices. For Santagostino, grading is a consequence of a mature collectibles market, not the cause of rising valuations: it certifies authenticity and condition (box, manual, seal), but price is determined by supply and demand. For him, it is an optional service of protection and clarity, especially useful where counterfeits abound, as in the Pokémon world. And this is not a judgment without consequences: whoever certifies has legal responsibility, and if they declare a fake authentic, the customer can seek recourse. As for suspicions of market manipulation, Santagostino downplays them with a simple argument: to steer prices, one would need to control almost all existing copies of a title, a feat as difficult as it is costly.

The heart of the conversation is the distinction between work and support. The game as code is replicable and archivable: emulation, digitization, and FPGA solutions preserve its architecture. What is truly perishable is the physical object: the box, the plastic, the manual, the way the game was sold. Sealed copies are extremely rare compared with open ones, and the certified case increases the likelihood that they survive and are passed down. For this reason, says Santagostino, those who define the coffins' casings ignore the right analogies: the time capsules and seed banks. Grading a copy, he points out, does not prevent anyone from playing: the work remains available in a thousand other forms. And one clarification: grading does not certify that the game works, because verifying that would require breaking the seal, and it is irrelevant to what is being preserved.

From the conversation, another operational rule emerges that Santagostino considers a priority: before grading, verify that the information has already been digitized. Italian manuals, often absent from online archives, should be scanned and made available; only then does it make sense to seal the object for the long term. The two practices are complementary, not alternative. And on intellectual property, the ethical line he draws is clear: non-commercial preservation is generally tolerated by companies, which act against those who monetize without authorization, not against those who archive. Preserve yes, monetize no.

The final step overturns a widespread prejudice. Collectors, Santagostino recalls, have historically been guardians of memory: many private collections have become museums, from cabinets of curiosities to the Egyptian Museum. Preserving the box of an 1980s arcade machine today, he adds, means allowing those who come after us to observe the past faithfully. The recent history of video games must be codified rigorously, cross-referencing financial statements, period press, and firsthand accounts, overcoming marketing narratives and faulty memories. And it is work that no expert can do alone: networks of highly specialized experts are needed, because no one is an expert in everything.

Santagostino’s conclusion is an invitation to informed debate: to distinguish between the work and the medium, between historical value and economic value, and to recognize the role of collectors, communities, and museums in preserving video game memory. Grading, in this reading, does not create value out of thin air and does not take anything away from anyone: it certifies, protects, and passes it on.