The Display 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 make it arrive intact to those who come after us. We talked about it with Carlo Santagostino, historian of computing and science communicator, in a long conversation born from discussions in the Retrocamera community. His reading, against the grain of public opinion, is the heart of the conversation: here are the key points, in the video the full interview.

The first point Santagostino wants to clarify is that grading is not a recent invention dropped onto video games. Certification of collectible items is a historical practice: in Italy Bolaffi was certifying stamps as early as 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 an abrupt phenomenon, but the natural extension of what mature collecting has always done.

The second issue concerns prices. For Santagostino, grading is a consequence of the mature collectibles market, not the cause of rising values: it certifies authenticity and condition (box, manual, seal), but prices are determined by supply and demand. For him, it is an optional service of protection and transparency, useful especially 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 client 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, an undertaking as difficult as it is costly.

The heart of the conversation is the distinction between work and medium. 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 to opened 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’ cases ignore the right analogies: time capsules and seed banks. Grading a copy, he emphasizes, 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 it would require breaking the seal, and it is irrelevant with respect to what is being preserved.

Another operational rule also emerges from the conversation, one that Santagostino considers a priority: before cataloging, 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 in the long term. The two practices are complementary, not alternative. And on intellectual property, the ethical line it 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 reminds us, have historically been custodians of memory: many private collections have become museums, from cabinets of curiosities to the Egyptian Museum. Preserving the box of an 1980s arcade game 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, contemporary press, and firsthand accounts, overcoming marketing narratives and faulty memories. And it is work that no expert can do alone: networks of specialized experts are needed, because no one is an expert in everything.

Santagostino’s conclusion is an invitation to informed debate: distinguishing between the work and its medium, between historical value and economic value, and recognizing the role of collectors, communities, and museums in preserving video game memory. Grading, in this view, does not create value out of nothing and does not take anything away from anyone: it certifies, protects, and passes on.