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Look, we all wanted to believe. The trailers were gorgeous. The interface looked sleek. They promised smarter diplomacy, deeper mechanics, and a world that evolved. Civilization VII was supposed to be the next great leap in 4X gaming. But after five hours of watching my cities spontaneously combust from “global unrest events” while trying to navigate a diplomacy system that feels like you’re DMing for a table full of drunk raccoons, I found myself doing something unthinkable: I reinstalled Civilization V. And reader, it was like coming home to an old flame who still remembered your favorite pizza toppings.

Let’s be honest—Civ VII is like one of those futuristic kitchen gadgets that’s supposed to air-fry, boil, bake, and mow your lawn, but ends up mostly beeping at you while catching fire. The graphics are so “innovative” they somehow make tundra look like plastic, and the UI now requires three doctoral theses to decipher. I spent half the game wondering if I was being punished for trying to build a granary. Meanwhile, Gandhi declared a religious war on me because I dared to found a city near a river he had “mentally claimed.”

In Civ V, things were simpler—but in a good way. Hex tiles had weight. Culture mattered. The World Congress didn’t feel like an emotionally abusive HOA. And most importantly, the AI didn’t spontaneously break treaties with the enthusiasm of a caffeinated toddler playing Risk. I could feel strategy again. Every choice had consequence. When I nuked someone in Civ V, it was personal. In Civ VII, it’s just Tuesday and the weather AI told me to.

The worst offender in Civ VII, though? “Dynamic Legacy Victory Conditions.” Translation: the goalposts move faster than your cavalry. Just as you build your science empire to win by launching the Exo-Colony, a random global vote turns it into a fashion contest judged by Pedro II. Spoiler: he hates your empire’s aesthetic. You lose. Try again.

And don’t even get me started on the “emotional alignment” mechanic that makes each leader a moody teenager with a grudge. I got denounced for not denouncing someone else fast enough. It’s like high school Model UN but with more passive-aggressive trade routes.

So yeah. After the disappointment, I went back. Back to where the maps were crisp, the mods were plentiful, and the only global crisis was when you realized you built the National College after expanding to 12 cities. Civilization V may be older, but it knows who it is. No pretense, no buzzword feature-bloat. Just good old empire-building, backstabbing, and a clear victory screen that doesn’t require a spreadsheet to interpret.

Civilization VII might be the future—but sometimes, the future kind of sucks.
So here’s to Civilization V: the game we never knew we’d miss until its sequel taught us how good we had it.