Video game fans long ago reconciled themselves to the fact that they would never be able to play hundreds of different historically significant games on their original systems -- especially those that came close but never saw retail shelves. Over time, a small community grew around tracking down prototypes and unreleased titles. These lost games would otherwise sit in storage until magnetic and optical data degradation rendered them unplayable, destroying a piece of video game history in the process. There are only so many Stadium Events cartridges out there, and original Akalabeth floppies probably died long ago, effectively making emulation the only way to play these and many other classic titles. This emulation can be legitimate and endorsed by rights holders -- think of the virtual console and countless retro collections released on modern console -- or done through third party emulators and illegally downloaded files and ROMs. Since many of these important games never received a proper release and publishers are often selective about what titles they make available, the latter option won out amongst the small lost games community, which needed to cooperate and focus their efforts in order to uncover new finds.

Not everyone plays by those rules. An anonymous individual discovered two prototype cartridges containing a Game Boy Color remake of the PlayStation Resident Evil, which Capcom canceled out of concern for the game's overall quality. A third party representing the owner of the cartridges announced online that they would release ROMs of the originals if they could raise $2000 in a "fundraiser," but added that even with the money the owner of the cartridges was still taking a substantial loss. The community raised the money, and the anonymous seller released ROMs to the rest of the world.

Loss or no, the fundraiser put a price tag on history, and many fans cried foul. Joystiq's Jordan Mallory even called the event "extortion" and a "ransom," and it's not hard to understand that point of view. The community of gamers that invests their time and effort to preserve old and unreleased video games tends to work in a more philanthropic manner, ensuring that the community has access to even to rarest finds by ripping and releasing their collections for all. In the past, the community pooled together to buy rare games at auction. While this raises some ethical questions of its own (reliance on what the law technically considers piracy) dedicated fans have given us a system whereby academics, students, designers, and those just curious can effectively find and play most historically significant games no matter how obscure -- from Bio Force Ape to Star Fox 2. Dedicated fans built a grey market video game equivalent to Google books.

Though it violates the values of some in the lost game community, the seller's behavior lines up with standard operating procedure for the rest of the world. Entire industries have been built around the buying and selling of historically significant items -- after all, baseball fans don't object to the selling of a newly found Honus Wagner card, and art auctions take place in nearly every country in the world. Would we expect someone to give away a copy of Action Comics #1? Of course not, but one important distinction separates the seller of Resident Evil from our theoretical comic collector.

It all comes down to information. As much as community members would love to play Resident Evil on the prototype cartridge, only two copies exist to serve the hundreds who want to play. Copying the information on that cart as a ROM and sharing it provides an obvious solution. The lost games community values free information above all else. Collectors can keep their cartridges and media to auction; just give the community the data. Sellers unfamiliar with things understandably balk at the idea, but games are different than other antiques and collectibles. I can't buy an original copy of Amazing Fantasy #15 containing the first appearance of Spider-Man, but I can easily buy a reprint. My ability to experience the history of comics isn't limited to buying original issues. Fans just wanted the equivalent for Resident Evil -- the ROM.

Despite the fact that one could easily understand the seller and community's point of view, the letter of the law holds that they're both in the wrong. The seller had the right to sell the cartridges in whatever way he saw fit, but the data was a different matter. United States law makes no distinction between copying and releasing this ROM and doing the same thing to Kingdoms of Amalur: Reckoning today. Capcom won't seek legal action, but they'd be well within their rights under the law to do so. With each side in the conflict engaging in piracy, profiteering, or both it becomes hard to tell just who exactly is in the right. What do you think?