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Those times were times in which life was, as Thomas Hobbes had put, short, nasty, and brutish. Unless you were a member of the nobility or the ever-growing but still statistically insignificant merchant class, you were more likely than not a piss-poor half-starved peasant, dressed in rags, living in a shack, working on the wheat and rye fields sun-up and sun-down, praying to ye almighty god with an unshakeable, unquestionable faith. That's what most of our ancestors were probably like. Living up to the age of 70 was, back in those days, an unfathomable desire, unachievable due the likelihood of dying much earlier than that from some kind of disease or infection. Despite the fact that modern medicine and modern science were doing great advances, nobody except for the richest men out there would have been able to hire a doctor. Unless you were rich, life was bad, and even if you were rich, life would have still been bad. People dying from poorly treated wounds was still rather common even in the late 19th century, long after this era was over.
Now tell me again, why would you want to live in the Middle Ages?
