So, this is a sort of silly way to imagine it, but let's use Doctor Who as a lens to talk about potential local maxima in evolutionary fitness.
The most obvious (and surely intentional) exploration of this is the Cybermen. They've made themselves so resilient to disaster and adverse environments, they've lost themselves. There's a part of me that sort of imagines their wars of conquest similar to how humans treat animals that end up in zoos – so obsessed with their preservation that they'll forcefully take them from their environment and strip out what it means to be, for instance, a lion. Their worldview (understandably, but wrongly) puts survival above all things, and in doing so, ekes out additional survival advantage at the cost of all the rest of the values they might have had.
You do not want to be a Cyberman, and you don't want to meet a Cyberman.
The second example, and this one is at least partly intentional, or rather, an intentional lens used by a subset of the writers, is the Daleks. Driven to house themselves in tanks due to generations of brutal war, they've become the ultimate weapons. But they've also become strangely disfigured, and their power has not given them wisdom. Their petty war of ethnic purity on their backwater planet required them to be immensely strong to survive, but once they had that strength, nothing could stop them from exporting their weak ideology. They roam the galaxy destroying everything that isn't the perfect killing machine they are.
Daleks seem reasonably happy to be a Dalek, but you wouldn't want to be turned into a Dalek (something explored multiple times in the show), and you definitely don't want to meet a Dalek.
So far, nothing that hasn't been said a million times.
But we also see the society of the Time Lords. Stagnant, decadent, self-absorbed, detached. Driven to engage with the rest of the universe only to stop the Daleks, and even then, bringing almost as much destruction as Daleks. The rest of the universe is beneath them, so they don't venture out much, and don't really do anything when they arrive.
With immense power, it's hard to tell the difference between rescuing a small world and conquering it. If you control time and can make whatever you want just barely arrange to happen, you could say you are avoiding some terrible disaster they care about, but you'd be their de facto dictator. Things occur only with your permission, as otherwise you would undo them, whether they are aware of it or not.
You might want to be a Time Lord, run around helping where you can with your own personally limited resources. But chances are you wouldn't want to bump into Time Lords in general, and you'd probably not want to live among them.
Particularly if you can monopolize control (over time, in this case), there's no reason to think that isn't a stable equilibrium. Complete, enforced stagnation. All efforts directed inward, in a near-maximally non-dynamic society. If you have enough power to prevent people from even getting close to replicating your power, you can just sit in that equilibrium, undisturbed. As far as viewers of the show are aware, the only war they've seriously engaged in was one where someone else (Daleks) got technology equivalent to theirs.
I think, when we imagine adaptive behavior, we imagine something robust to challenges, something that can recover from failure. But perhaps we ought to imagine an adaptive decadence, that our own society, through political pressures, may enter a long-term economic steady-state, with no growth, because that would disrupt the power equilibria.