I was late to the party when it came to the Civilization games. My first taste of Sid Meier’s empire-building wasn’t one of the legendary PC titles but the leaner, streamlined Civilization Revolution on the Xbox 360. A buddy and I spent countless weekends glued to the couch, running playthrough after playthrough of what we jokingly called “Side Mirrors.”

It hooked me instantly. Something about leading a civilization from its humble beginnings to world domination tickled the lizard part of my brain. The thrill of expanding cities, defending my people, and seeing continuity across generations just clicked — even if that continuity occasionally included a nuke-happy Gandhi vaporizing the globe. I tore into the game, chasing every achievement until I hit 100%.

Fast forward more years than I’d like to admit, and Civ Rev was still my only real foray into the franchise. I always knew the “mainline” games had more depth, but I never had a computer capable of running them. (I’m not exactly known as the most tech-savvy guy around.) Then one day, I saw that Civilization VI was coming to PlayStation. Neurons fired. Wallet opened. No hesitation.

A cough, cough… ridiculous number of hours later, I finally had to shelve it. Not because I stopped enjoying it — quite the opposite. I enjoyed it too much. “Just one more turn” became “Just one more week,” and eventually the satisfaction faded. Comfort had turned into routine. It was time.

That sounds heavy, but let’s steer back into love letter territory. Civ VI deserves it.

The game takes a proven formula and polishes it to a fine edge. The sheer number of leaders, both in the base game and across expansions, is impressive. Sure, some were clearly stronger than others (looking at you, Peter the Great), but the beauty of Civ VI is that even the underdogs had flavor. I always gravitated back to Pachacuti. Something about sprawling cities stitched together with intracontinental trade routes and mountain-backed districts just scratched an itch no other leader did.

When Civilization VII was announced for consoles, I practically sprinted to my preorder. New horizons, new leaders, new mechanics — the promise of another all-consuming obsession. The disc slid in, the hours started ticking, and my smile slowly turned into a frown.

Why am I swapping cultures every few turns? Where are the leaders? Why are my armies now weird little LEGO sets I have to assemble and disassemble mid-battle? I wanted refinement; instead, I got reinvention. And not the good kind.

A quick peek at reviews confirmed I wasn’t alone. Firaxis had swung for the fences and missed. Gamers — shockingly — were overdramatic about it, but still, “fine” isn’t enough when you’re standing on the shoulders of giants. Civ VII wasn’t a disaster, but it was a stumble. One that I’ll leave on the shelf until patches and expansions smooth it out.

Meanwhile, moving Civ VI from my PlayStation’s internal drive to external storage felt like boxing up a photo album. There’s a bittersweetness in that — a little sadness, a lot of gratitude. This was a game that had me in its grip like few others.

So here’s to you, Civilization VI. You taught me what a strategy game could be. You set the bar high for Firaxis. You made “just one more turn” a dangerous phrase in my household. And while I may be stepping back now, it’s only with fondness for what you gave me: countless hours of joy, frustration, and wonder.

Thank you for shaping what I now expect from the genre, and for giving me memories that will stick long after my leaders fade into history.