The Power to the Players Act Explained: Buying a Game Should Mean Owning It

Most of us click “Buy” and assume the word means what it says. This week a member of Congress looked at a $69.99 game that loses its online modes two years after launch and called that arrangement a rental disguised as a sale. I think he's pointing at something real. I also think an announcement is the easy part of any bill, so I'm treating this as a promising first move, not a win.

Here's how this piece works. I lay out what was announced, using his office's own release. I walk through NBA 2K25, the game he named, and do the receipt math nobody printed. Then I rank how much you really own across five ways of buying a game, list the five lines I'd fight for in the text and say where I land.

What Torres actually announced

On Oct. 15, Rep. Ritchie Torres, a New York Democrat who represents the Bronx, announced he will introduce the Power To The Players Act. According to his office, the bill would direct the Federal Trade Commission to write regulations protecting consumers' ability to own and play the video games they purchase.

Three ideas sit inside that announcement. Buying a game would give you ownership instead of a license. Games with online features would have to offer an offline mode before the servers behind them shut down. And the bill aims to preserve your ability to own and resell what you bought. His office framed it with a line I can't improve on: a game that disappears when a company pulls the plug is “a rental disguised as a sale.”

Now the caution. The release uses future tense: he will introduce it. Engadget reported that the bill hadn't been introduced in Congress yet, though a few outlets describe it as already filed. I'm going with the primary source. Here's how I sort it.

That second box is where I'd spend my attention. PC Gamer points out that a game bought DRM-free, from GOG for example, has no ownership problem because you hold the files, and that the FTC isn't likely to ban copy protection outright, so a passed bill would probably land on a softer definition of ownership. The same piece says its writer asked Torres's office how enforcement would work. The version I read had no answer yet.

The game he picked: NBA 2K25

Torres chose a good example, because the dates are public and they're ugly. Here's the sequence, pieced together from his release and the reporting on 2K's notice.

• Sept. 6, 2024NBA 2K25 launches. Torres's release lists $69.99 for the standard edition and $99.99 for the All-Star Edition.
• Oct. 30, 2026The game is delisted from all digital storefronts, about two years after launch.
• Dec. 31, 2026Online servers shut down. 2K's own wording, as quoted by VGC, says that from Jan. 1, 2027 you can't play multiplayer or access online game modes.
• Jan. 1, 2027MyCareer and MyTeam stop working. VGC explains that both run on Virtual Currency, and players can no longer earn it once the servers go dark.

What survives, according to reports of 2K's statement, are the offline modes: Play Now, MyNBA and the women's modes, for people who already own the game and can still download it. What doesn't survive is the mode a lot of players treat as the single-player story.

The detail that bothers me most is that this isn't a surprise. Dexerto reports that NBA 2K22, 2K23 and 2K24 each went dark on Dec. 31, roughly 28 months after launch, and that 2K's status page already lists Dec. 31, 2028 as the end date for NBA 2K27. An ending that's on the calendar before most people have finished the game is a schedule, and a schedule is something a publisher can plan around.

The receipt nobody printed

I wanted to see what the sticker price looks like once you divide it by the life of the online half. This is my math, not 2K's and not Torres's.

Eight cents a day isn't a scandal. Plenty of people got hundreds of hours out of the online modes, and I don't want to pretend otherwise. My point is narrower. The price tag says $69.99 and the fine print says it's a service with an end date. Those two ideas shouldn't be allowed to hide from each other.

How we got here, and where the fight stands

This didn't start with NBA 2K25. Ubisoft delisted The Crew in December 2023 and shut its servers on March 31, 2024, without an offline mode. Ross Scott launched Stop Killing Games on April 2, 2024. In November 2024, two Californians filed a class action against Ubisoft, and Ubisoft's response said buyers received a limited license rather than ownership. I couldn't confirm how that case has ended, so I won't guess.

Read that table from top to bottom and you can see a pattern. Regulators so far have been willing to make companies say what you're buying. Torres is asking them to change what you get. That's a bigger leap, which is exactly why it's interesting and exactly why it'll be fought over.

My ladder: how much do you own?

Here's my own ranking, from the most ownership to the least. It's a judgment call, not a legal test, and the same game can sit on different rungs depending on how it was built.

1. 1
   A DRM-free download

   You hold the files. Per PC Gamer, ownership isn't an issue here, because you can back them up and run them as long as a machine can.

2. 2
   A disc or cartridge that runs on its own

   Everything needed is in the box, and no login or download is required to play it.

3. 3
   A disc that needs a download or a check-in

   The box is yours, but the game leans on a server for patches or permission. The Crew's physical buyers found out how thin that line can be.

4. 4
   A digital license on a store

   It works for as long as the store and the publisher keep it that way. Steam's terms, as reported by Tom's Guide, say the purchase confers no title or ownership.

5. 5
   An online game with currency and progress on the server

   This is the NBA 2K25 situation. The modes you invested in stop working because the data lives on servers that go dark.

The five lines I would fight for

If I could pencil edits into the text, these are the five lines I'd fight for. They're my asks, not anything in Torres's announcement.

1. Define “offline mode” around what players value. If a career mode is the heart of a game, “Play Now still works” shouldn't count as compliance.
2. Put the end-of-life plan on the store page. Before you pay, you should see whether the game has an end date and what survives it.
3. Say what happens to virtual currency and bought content. NBA 2K25 shows how a purchase can become useless the moment servers stop.
4. Be realistic about copy protection and live-service games. A rule that tries to ban every server-based design will lose in committee. A floor of “offline mode or a clear plan” has a chance.
5. Spell out who it covers and from when. Decide whether it applies to new releases or the library you already own, and attach real enforcement.

The pushback I take seriously

Publishers have real arguments. Servers cost money, security patches don't last forever, and licensed content such as league and player rights may not outlive the game. Coverage of the EU decision says the Commission judged a mandatory duty not proportionate at this stage, and reporting on its response points to intellectual-property and cost concerns. HotHardware expects publishers to lobby hard against the U.S. bill.

I don't think any of that makes the goal wrong. I think it makes the drafting matter. A narrow, workable rule that survives the lobbying is worth more to players than a sweeping one that dies quietly.

If you own NBA 2K25 today

• Install the game while it's still on sale. Reports say existing owners can redownload it after Oct. 30, but a local install is the safest copy you'll have.
• Know which modes survive. Play Now, MyNBA and the women's modes are the offline ones. MyCareer and MyTeam are not.
• Check 2K's Online Services Status page for the exact dates that apply to your platform.
• I didn't find 2K saying anything about refunds for unspent Virtual Currency. If you have a balance, ask 2K support directly.

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