Pizza, Boxers, and the Whole Damn Planet

It must have been sometime in autumn. I opened the window to my little courtyard for the first time in about a week—standing there in a single pair of boxers, dried pizza somewhere in my beard, the big monitor still glowing behind me with a map of a planet I had just finished conquering. I felt like Napoleon, Caesar, and Hitler fused into one being. I looked like a decomposing sex offender.

I’d been too stupid for Civilization IV—ten minutes of baffled clicking before giving up and going back to entertaining myself—so I’d pulled Civilization V off Steam out of pure boredom and just fell in. Explored, researched, conquered. Genuinely epic. Whatever food delivery service was still open at 2am made an absolute killing off me that month.

Now the first expansion is out: Gods and Kings. New civs—the Austrians, the Swedes, the Ethiopians—new world wonders, religious fanatics doing religious fanatic things. None of it matters much because I dispatch my Japanese units against everyone regardless, and somehow this works every single time.

You can attack coastal cities from the sea now, plant spies in rival capitals, trade citrus. Guilds, fresh military units, police stations, air raid shelters, an amphitheater. Endless things to click on while wondering what breaks next. This is where the game tells you what kind of person you actually are—someone who negotiates, or someone who just burns it all down and calls it strategy.

I’m fully back in. World domination as hobby, maybe vocation. It’s not wasted time in front of a screen—it’s training for the real thing. Strategy, occupation, unconditional victory. These need practice. And when I’m finally your unreachable dictator, you’ll know exactly what got me there: Sid Meier’s Civilization V—Gods and Kings. Now kneel, worms.