In a world where global economies teeter on the brink of collapse and climate change is turning our summers into a literal slow-roast, it’s heartening to know that the tech journalism elite has found the real “fascinating” scoop: a singular, lonely human being in the middle of October 2024 walked into a store and purchased one—and only one—physical copy of a decades-old Xbox 360 game.

Stop the presses. We’ve reached the zenith of data analysis.

The latest “delightful” revelation from Circana’s Mat Piscatella—the industry’s favorite harbinger of both record-breaking profits and the slow, wheezing death of hardware—suggests that tracking the statistical noise of a single transaction is somehow the “most fun” data we have. If your idea of “fun” is watching the heat death of the universe one atom at a time, then sure, seeing the Xbox 360 version of *Burnout* move a single unit is a real riot.

Let’s dismantle the logic of this “fascinating” trend with the same level of seriousness the article grants a stray inventory error.

First, there is the claim that these lists provide a “trip down memory lane.” In reality, a single sale of a retro physical copy isn’t a cultural resurgence; it’s a clerical anomaly. It’s the result of a GameStop employee finally cleaning out the “gunk drawer” or a parent accidentally buying a gift for a console their child hasn’t plugged in since the Obama administration. Calling this “data” is like calling the loose change you found in your sofa “diversified investment capital.”

Then we have the “historically bad” hardware sales of November. The article treats this like a shocking mystery, as if the PlayStation 5 and Xbox Series X aren’t currently middle-aged consoles being sold at prices that suggest they’re made of solid gold rather than aging silicon. When the industry spends years telling consumers that physical media is a vestigial organ—removing disc drives from “Pro” models and locking games behind digital licenses that can be revoked at a moment’s notice—it takes a special kind of audacity to act surprised when hardware sales for physical-adjacent systems crater.

The assumption here is that we should find charm in the “obscure.” But there’s a very thin line between an “obscure gem” and a game that was rightfully buried in a landfill alongside the E.T. cartridges. Celebrating the sale of one physical copy of a niche title isn’t an insight into consumer behavior; it’s a eulogy for a distribution model that the industry is actively smothering with a pillow.

While the Verge finds it “delightful” that these retro titles “still exist” in the sales charts, the cold, hard fact is that physical media sales have been on a downward trajectory for a decade. In 2023, digital sales accounted for approximately 83% of total video game software sales globally, and for some publishers, that number is north of 90%. That single copy of *Burnout* isn’t a sign of life; it’s the last twitch of a nervous system before rigor mortis sets in.

If we’re going to get excited about single-digit sales, why stop at video games? I look forward to next month’s riveting report on the single cassette tape sold in a Nebraska truck stop, or the one person who still pays for a landline in a zip code with 5G coverage.

Ultimately, this isn’t “fun data”—it’s a distraction from the fact that the gaming industry is currently a landscape of massive layoffs, $70 price tags, and hardware that costs as much as a used sedan. But hey, at least someone, somewhere, has a “new” copy of an Xbox 360 game. I’m sure that’ll keep the industry afloat through the next fiscal quarter. Truly fascinating stuff.