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Two questions, one picture. You are dropped into a 360° scene from a real moment in history and asked when and where it happened — the year on a slider, the spot on a world map. Call it a when and where game or a where and when game; the answer is the same two things, and both are scored. No multiple choice, no hints, no account.
Look around. Drag anywhere in the scene; you can see all the way round.
Where: drop a pin on the world map.
When: set the year. Both answers are scored, five rounds a game.
A good round is one you can reason your way through. Every scene carries evidence you can actually use — a building at a known stage of construction, a flag, a vehicle, a piece of technology that only existed for a while. Scenes that could plausibly be two different centuries are rejected before they ever reach you.
That rule is the difference between a guessing game and a guessing-blindly game.
Most people settle the where first, because place clues are the loud ones — a coastline, a script on a sign, a style of roof. Then the when follows from the smaller details inside that place: what people are wearing, what is parked in the street, whether the wires overhead are for telegraph, tram or nothing yet.
Sometimes it runs the other way. Once you spot a machine that only existed for twenty years, the century is settled and the map shrinks to the handful of places it could be. Either order works, and the game lets you change both answers until you commit.
The reveal draws the line between your pin and the real spot, names the event and the year, and gives you a short sourced paragraph about what you were standing in the middle of. It is the part people say they came back for.