The Obsession with Eras: A Reflection of Our Times

In an age where everything seems to be labeled as a new "era," from the rise of streaming and AI to the fallout of climate change and the Trump presidency, we’ve become obsessed with defining the times we live in. Taylor Swift’s tour, named after a chapter book, and the endless punditry about post-literacy, post-humanism, and post-neoliberalism reflect this cultural fixation. This obsession with naming eras, as a recent n+1 essay points out, often feels hollow—like we’re trying to find meaning in the act of labeling itself rather than in the experiences we’re living through.

Enter Civilization VII, the latest installment in Sid Meier’s iconic video game franchise. The game offers an unexpected lens through which to examine this phenomenon. Unlike its predecessors, which allowed players to guide a single civilization from prehistory to modernity, Civilization VII breaks the journey into distinct eras—Antiquity, Exploration, and Modern. This shift mirrors the way we think about time today: not as a continuous flow, but as a series of discrete chapters. The game’s developers argue that this is a more realistic approach, as no single nation-state has endured for thousands of years. China, for example, is represented in the game through three different dynasties.

The Gameplay: A Mix of Progress and Predictability

At first glance, Civilization VII feels familiar. Players still select a civilization, explores the map, builds cities, and wages wars. The visuals are stunning, with fantastical landscapes that invite exploration. The core loop remains addictive, and the addition of new systems for diplomacy and warfare adds depth. However, the eras system introduces a new layer of structure. As you progress, an on-screen meter fills, triggering crises that mark the end of one era and the beginning of another. For example, achieving a 70% completion in the Antiquity Age might lead to a rebellion, while hitting 100% transitions the game to the Exploration Age.

This structure allows for a kind of narrative coherence. Players can imagine their civilization evolving over time, shedding its old identity and embracing a new one. In one playthrough, ancient Rome seamlessly transitions into Spain, and later into modern America. Certain traits persist—Rome’s engineering prowess makes building the Statue of Liberty easier—creating a sense of continuity. This allows players to craft a story about their civilization’s lineage, tying together past and present.

The Limits of a Checklist: Freedom vs. Structure

But the eras system also has its drawbacks. Previous Civilization games gave players a single, overarching goal, like colonizing space or conquering the world. This left room for improvisation and creativity, making each game feel like an open-ended adventure. Civilization VII, however, introduces smaller, era-specific objectives, such as building seven Wonders of the World in Antiquity or forming a world bank in Modernity. While these goals add focus, they also feel restrictive, turning the game into a checklist rather than an epic story.

The game’s AI doesn’t help. Even on higher difficulty levels, computer-controlled opponents feel passive and unambitious, making it easy for human players to dominate. Other features, like government types and cultural hegemony, have been simplified. The reduction of complex ideas into mini-games—such as sending explorers to dig up artifacts to achieve cultural dominance—feels like a step backward. These issues, while frustrating, are likely fixable through future updates.

A Deeper Flaw: The Anxiety of Episodic Time

The eras system, however, represents a more fundamental problem. By dividing time into strict, compartmentalized chunks, Civilization VII reinforces a way of thinking that can feel stifling. In real life, we’re often stuck between nostalgia for the past and anxiety about the future, unable to fully inhabit the present. The game’s crises and transitions, while dramatic, can make time feel disjointed and overwhelming. This mirrors the way many people experience modern life—caught between eras, unsure of what comes next.

Time, after all, doesn’t move in neat, predetermined chunks. Eras are just a way to make sense of history, a narrative tool to impose order on chaos. At their worst, they can rob us of our sense of agency, making us feel like passive observers rather than active participants in shaping the future. Civilization VII, despite its innovations, inadvertently highlights this trap. The game’s rigid structure, while realistic in some ways, limits the player’s freedom and creativity, leaving them feeling like they’re following a script rather than writing their own story.

Conclusion: Embracing the Continuity of Time

And yet, Civilization VII still captures something essential about human history. The idea that societies are built in layers, with each era leaving behind a legacy that shapes the next, is profound. The game’s crises—revolutions, migrations, disasters—reflect the kinds of upheavals that have always defined human progress. At its best, Civilization invites players to think about history as a living, breathing process, not just a series of checkpoints.

But the game also reminds us of the dangers of fixating on eras. In life, as in gaming, time flows continuously, and the present moment is where the real power lies. The old Civilization fantasy—the belief that we can endure, adapt, and thrive—still has value today. History may be built in layers, but it’s up to us to write the next chapter.