The problem is that each gamer has their own idea of what they want to see in civ3. It would be mpossible for Firaxis to make a civ3 that pleased all the civ fans here at 'Poly. To even come close they would have to devise a super-editor that allowed each player to change the game to their liking and that would be extremelly difficult to pull off. They made a civ3 that pleases some players but upset others. That is inevitable. If they had done the opposite, they would have pleased those gripping now, but at the expense of those content now.
What you've actually shown is that people are groping desperately for some way to make the game interesting. What if they did this? What if they tried that? Maybe this other thing would help.
Primarily two attributes keep a single-player game interesting: (1) the player is forced to make meaningful decisions, the consequences of which have pros and cons no matter which way he goes, and (2) there is a reasonable chance to win (or lose) throughout the entire course of the game.
Civ3 fails miserably in both of these.
What are interesting decisions in the early game — do I forego building this to accomplish that? — settle into pure unadulterated drudgery as the game moves into the modern age (or even the industrial age). Instead of should-I-build-a-worker-or-another-settler, all the the fundamental matters of development are accomplished. You have a hundred workers; you have all the cities that the map will support; you have all the basic improvements necessary to ensure empire growth.
Unfortunately, the game doesn't shift at this point to something that will force you to make interesting decisions again. Rather, you can pretty much set everything on automatic and just sort of watch. Problem is, the interface won't release you from interaction. Whereas before, your clicks had consequences, now they do nothing more than advance the game along to its next excruciating turn.
This is the point at which many people, including people who hate war, go to war — often for no reason other than that there's nothing else interesting to do.
Unfortunately, the game's interface and design doesn't lend itself well to conducting manual enterprises in the modern age. If you go to war, you must be prepared to fight not only the enemy, but the interface as well. Thanks to bizarre unit activation sequencing, you will be routinely yanked away from your theaters of battle. Maintaining any sort of continuity is a hopeless exercise in futility.
Meanwhile, you have not been relieved from the prior tedium already described. You still must click-click-click to keep the game moving along. Here comes the frigging Domestic Nag, bothering you about hospitals. You click a hundred times to dismiss her. And she is as dumb as a stump. She will ask you whether you want to abandon your wonder two turns before completion.
By this time, the conclusion is in sight. Whoever has the greatest lead in the linear technologies wins the conquest or space-race game. Whoever has the greatest lead in the linear culture model wins the culture game. The only mysterious victory is the diplomatic one. But many players turn it off, having reported that they lost despite impeccable diplomatic relations over the entire course of the game.
Once you've achieved victory, you've no choice but to drive it home. Otherwise, you'll be penalized if you want to continue play, i.e., your score will suffer if you wait. So, even if you have resigned yourself to playing along with the doltish rule-set you've been given — building railroads on every tile, etc. — you get a penalty instead of a reward.
Many years ago, Sid said that it's interesting decisions that make for a fun strategy experience. He was right. And Civ3 has those for the opening part of the game. But then they vanish, leaving you to clean pollution in a world where you can't eliminate it; to mollify people who can't be made happy; to feed populations that can't support themselves; to build things you don't need.
And when you've stuck it out, you run headlong into a violation of yet another fundamental rule of gaming. For your efforts, you get a beep and a message box declaring your victory. It is sudden. And it is insulting with its anticlimatic ruination of your experience. Winning is supposed to result in a climactic display of honor and glory for a job well done.
People would be happy if they were given interesting decisions to make. It doesn't matter so much what they are. Just something that makes sense and is supported by the interface.
Now, when consumers of such a game begin to complain to a company whose official policy is to ignore questions and complaints, you end up with the current state of affairs — a game that returns more than ten pages when you search for it on ebay.
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