As I booted up Civilization VII for the first time, I couldn't help but feel that familiar thrill of anticipation. Here was a game series that had defined the 4X genre for decades, promising another deep dive through human history. But as my civilization progressed through the ages, I noticed something peculiar happening—or rather, not happening. The timeline seemed to cut off abruptly after the 1960s, leaving me wondering where the rest of our modern world had disappeared to. This experience got me thinking about how modern gaming trends are evolving, and not always in ways that serve the player's experience best.

Having spent over 2,000 hours across various Civilization titles, I've developed a pretty good sense of what makes these games tick. The series has always been about that glorious march from ancient huts to futuristic megastructures. Yet Civilization VII's decision to end at Yuri Gagarin's 1961 space flight feels like receiving an elaborate birthday cake with the top layer mysteriously sliced off. The most advanced military units available are tanks and fighter planes—technology that was cutting-edge during World War II but feels downright primitive in 2024. I remember specifically counting the available technologies in the final era: only 12 compared to the 15-18 we typically see in late-game Civ experiences. This isn't just trimming fat; it's removing entire muscle groups from the game's historical framework.

Now, I'll be the first to admit that late-game Civilization sessions can turn into absolute slogs. Research from Steam achievement data suggests that only about 35% of players actually complete their campaigns, with most dropping off around the Industrial Era. I've personally abandoned countless games upon reaching the modern period, when turns start taking forever and diplomacy becomes a tangled web of meaningless agreements. But cutting content entirely? That's like a restaurant removing desserts from their menu because some customers leave before ordering them. The solution should be making later eras more engaging, not pretending they don't exist.

The gaming industry has seen a worrying trend lately where games launch feeling incomplete. We saw it with Cyberpunk 2077's initial release, and we're seeing it now with Civilization VII's truncated timeline. What's particularly frustrating is that the missing Information Age represents the most transformative period in human history—the very era we're living through right now. No internet, no social media dynamics, no contemporary climate change mechanics, nothing about the digital revolution that has reshaped our world since the 1990s. It's like telling the story of human flight but stopping at the Wright Brothers while ignoring the Apollo program entirely.

From a game design perspective, I understand the challenges. Making the Information Age engaging would require completely new mechanics—perhaps social media influence replacing traditional culture victory conditions, or cyber warfare augmenting military strategies. But that's exactly what a numbered sequel should deliver! When I pay $60 for a new Civilization game, I expect the developers to tackle these design challenges head-on, not avoid them because they're difficult. The Civilization franchise has always been about educational value alongside entertainment, and by omitting the Contemporary Age entirely, they're failing to help players understand the world we actually inhabit.

What's particularly ironic is that other strategy games have successfully incorporated modern and near-future eras. The Stellaris franchise handles technological progression beyond contemporary times beautifully, while the Endless Legend series demonstrates how to make late-game mechanics compelling rather than tedious. Even Civilization's own modding community has created robust contemporary era mods for previous titles, proving that players want this content and are willing to create it themselves when developers don't.

I've noticed this trend extends beyond just Civilization VII. Many recent games seem to be playing it safe rather than pushing boundaries. We're getting beautifully polished experiences that are somehow less ambitious than their predecessors. As someone who's been gaming since the 1990s, I miss the days when sequels actually expanded on their predecessors rather than cautiously trimming content based on metrics. Game developers have access to more player data than ever before, but data should inform design decisions rather than dictate them completely.

The solution isn't necessarily adding more content for content's sake. Rather, developers need to rethink how later game stages function. Maybe Civilization's late-game problem could be solved by making the Contemporary Age play dramatically differently—perhaps shifting from traditional turn-based expansion to a victory condition centered around global influence or technological singularity. The key is innovation, not amputation. When I think about my most memorable gaming moments, they often come from games that took risks rather than followed trends blindly.

Looking at the bigger picture, this speaks to a concerning pattern in triple-A gaming where commercial considerations increasingly trump creative vision. The gaming industry has grown into a $200 billion global behemoth, but that success seems to be making publishers more risk-averse rather than more ambitious. We're getting technically impressive games that feel focus-tested into blandness, with developers removing features that might challenge casual players rather than making those features more accessible or engaging.

As a longtime fan of strategy games, I'll still play Civilization VII—the core mechanics remain solid, and the early game is as magical as ever. But I can't shake the disappointment of knowing that the journey stops just when things should be getting most interesting. The modern gaming landscape offers countless experiences, but true mastery requires recognizing when a classic franchise is playing it too safe. Here's hoping that future updates or expansions will address this gap, because right now, Civilization VII feels like an epic novel missing its final chapters—beautifully written but ultimately incomplete.