It's impossible to deny the epic scale of religious histories. That may help to explain why so many video games take such inspiration in their theologies (here's looking at you multiple Jesus-clone messiah protagonists). In essence, they're a ready-made source of rich and detailed adventures with profound resonance, their enduring popularity and name-recognition long-since assured. What publisher wouldn't want that?

Of course, the other side of the equation looks a little less rosy. The odds of offending large swathes of your potential player base only increase when tapping into existing religions, meaning most developers using them play around with their presentation to a greater or lesser degree. The following seven games all opted to take that risk, representing complex belief systems via the interactive medium. Some edged closer to the sacred scripture than others, but all shall be judged of their worthiness. Do any of these games offer a worthwhile introduction to the great gamut of the gods? Let's find out.

Developer Silicon Knights envisaged Too Human as an attempt to rationalise complex Norse theology via futuristic technology. Here the gods of the pantheon are not born, but made, granted their astounding powers through advanced cybernetic augmentation. In place of the nine realms of existence, Too Human supposes a singular planet, broken up into numerous distinct sectors, such as the human city of Midgard. Their implacable opposition - the giant folk of Jötnar, are now sentient machines, while the likes of Beowulf's Grendel and the menacing Dark Elves become simple boss and enemy types.

As for the game's hero, Baldur - god of light, joy, purity and presumably also lollypops - Too Human opts to introduce us to a much gruffer deity. Expanding upon the most famous of all Baldur stories - his untimely death (as orchestrated by the mischievous half-god Loki), Too Human takes both this and other existing legends as the basis for an entirely new saga, one based upon rebirth and ultimately revenge. As an introduction to Norse theology, Too Human represents a strong and surprisingly accurate start, familiarising players with the names, relationships and dwelling places of these Germanic-Scandinavian gods. If you can ignore the sci-fi trimmings, shoddy gameplay and freshly expanded lore, then Too Human is a good a way as any to begin your ongoing course in Norse.

See Also - Age of Mythology, Jotun (2016), Viking: Battle for Asgard

Strange as it may sound, the single most inaccurate element of the entire God of War franchise is the game's ongoing depiction of central character Kratos. Indeed, far from being the frenzied father-stabber that he appears in the games, the theological Kratos is instead counted among the most zealously loyal of Zeus' retinue. He's also considered the God of Strength, as opposed to the demi-god and later God of War he's portrayed as in the games. That being the case, it seems highly likely that Sony Santa Monica chose the name Kratos as an ironic nod to the original character, inverting not only his loyalties but also on occasion his actions. Case in point, the scene in which a virtual Kratos frees the heroic titan Prometheus, having done just the opposite according to the original Greek narrative.

Like many of the games on this list, the God of War franchise positively excels in taking existing theological legends and using them to create new and exciting adventures. One such example is the renewed Titan vs. God war, the big round two of an event that dominates much of the ancient theology. While Kratos' actions may not bear much relation to the stories upon which his world is based, God of War remains a fine foreword to the rest of ancient Greek mythology. After all, what better way to become accustomed to the characters, places and epic tales than by cutting a bloody swathe right through them?

See Also - Age of Mythology, Disney's Hercules, NyxQuest: Kindred Spirits, Spartan: Total Warrior, Titan Quest

Despite some rather obvious parallels Okami's exact relationship to the Shinto theology remains somewhat difficult to define. That's because the team at Clover Studios has always tended towards a vague and imprecise language when discussing that facet of the project. Game director Hideki Kamiya argues that Okami's characters, in particular Amaterasu, are not necessarily the same as those found in the Shinto faith, though they do share a great deal in common. It's possible that this tack was taken simply to avoid offending believers, though it could also indicate an intentional level of ambiguity.

Familiarities (and differences) include the aforementioned Amaterasu, goddess of the sun in both Shinto tradition and in Okami. Interestingly however, no mention of wolves or wolf-form is ever made in reference to the Shinto deity, while the virtual version is neither strictly male nor female, at least not in the Japanese version of the game (translation difficulties forced the team to pick an English pronoun i.e. he or she, thereby confusing the issue). As for the game's celestial brush gods, none appear to correspond directly with Shinto deities, but are instead based upon the Far Eastern Zodiac signs. Susano meanwhile appears somewhat similar to the Shinto hero Susano-o - both of whom are famous for slaying (or helping to slay) an 8-headed serpent named Orochi. As a guide to Shinto deities, Okami is hardly authoritative, not would the game's designers have you believe that it is. All told, those wishing to learn more about Shinto via the game should probably support their playthrough with the odd spot of research.

See Also - Okamiden

Basing a game on the tenets of an active religion is always going to prove tricky. Basing a game on two even more so. Asura's Wrath manages to monkey around with details of both the Hindu and Buddhist faiths (the two groups share a number of common legends, including those drawn from the Indian epic The Rigveda). That's not to say that either side became too irate about it, most just balking at the perceived inaccuracies. So what exactly did the game get right, and more importantly, what did it get wrong? Well for starters, the game - much like Too Human - opts to take the sci-fi reinvention route, trading in powerful demi-gods for massively upgraded cyber soldiers.

Speaking of demi-gods, the term Asura actually applies to all beings of this type, not just to any one individual. The game also leaves out the more benevolent set of deities known as the Devas, although the game's final boss Chakravartin may be considered as such. While religious tradition holds that the two sets of gods waged war upon each other, Asura's Wrath finds these so-called 'Guardian Generals' (i.e. the Asura) battling it out against the Gohma, a race of hideous monsters led by Vlitra, a planet-devouring serpent similar to Vritra, an evil demigod from Hindu Vedic tradition. The Gohma, meanwhile, appear to have little to no basis in religious texts. All things considered the game does present a solid introduction to the Asura deities, not individually perhaps but rather as a group, nailing their look, temperament and abilities as recounted in various religious texts. The rest, however remains somewhat less authentic.

You might expect that there'd be a litany of titles covering the ancient Egyptian pantheon, and you'd be right, though precious few of those exist outside of the god game and RTS genres. Consider Sphinx and the Cursed Mummy a rare exception to that rule, dealing as it does with the likes of Ra, Set, Osiris and co. through the format of an action-platformer. The game stars Sphinx, an upright, decidedly more human take on the beastly man-lion hybrids that guard many an Egyptian temple. Truth be told, this incarnation is little more than a teenager with a tail, though other ancient icons ring truer. Horus has his falcon head, Anubis is a jackal and Tutankhamen is covered from head to tow in bandages. Likewise, King Tut's mummification also results in the storage of four sacred organs, just as it would have in ancient days.

Interestingly however, the game also chooses to shift around several well-established relationships. Tutankhamen's mother and father become his lover and brother, respectively, head honcho Ra is created via the union of Osiris and Set - as opposed to being his own independent deity - and Osiris' son Horus is now working for Set, instead of actively trying to murder him. These elements aside, Sphinx and the Cursed Mummy does an entertaining job of familiarising fans with the unique iconography - think ankhs, amulets and sarcophagi - as well as many of the major players of the ancient Egyptian tradition.

See Also - Age of Mythology, Pharaoh, Ankh: Battle of the Gods

Alright, first things first - Dante Alighieri's Inferno isn't exactly considered canon by the Christian church. However the epic poem does make use of, and even helped to inform, certain elements of popular Christian theology. Suffice to say, this blood and guts actioner shouldn't be taken as a literal guide to Christian tradition, but rather as the retelling of an influential Christian myth. So, how does it fare? Well, much like the gameplay itself, largely hit and miss. Alighieri's epic poem stars none other than the author himself, indulging in a brisk walking tour of the nine levels of Hell. Digital Dante, meanwhile finds himself recast as a fighting knight of the third Crusade, wading through the underworld so as to free his beleaguered lover from Satan's icy grip.

The game does get a lot right, including the presence of Roman poet Virgil, who acts as guide to both iterations of Dante. Likewise, many of the levels of Hell, and the punishments performed therein, reflect those originally envisaged by the writer. Other translations prove less authentic, with the knife-wielding babies of the purgatory level proving particularly false. So too the use of Cleopatra as a willing servant of Satan, as opposed to the simple prisoner she appears in the poem. Strangest of all however, is the inclusion of an absolve/punish mechanic for beaten enemies. Somehow it seems difficult to believe that the Church would sign off on an admitted sinner forgiving other offenders their sins. All in all then, a decent visual trip through quasi-Christian tradition, chock full of crosses, demons and holy iconography. Just take it with a massive pinch of salt.

See Also - Super Noah's Ark 3D?

A surprisingly popular tradition, at least where video game settings are concerned, the world of Celtic theology entirely informs the 2007 RPG Folklore. The title takes place in a small country village that just so happens to act as a functioning gateway to a bizarre realm of the dead. In keeping with Celtic tradition, this fissure only appears once every year - on the night of Samhain, to be precise, a major inspiration for modern Hallowe'en - leading the spirits of the dead to revisit our world, as adventurous peoples head off in the other direction. Folklore's depiction of this netherworld is largely in keeping with that of the ancient Celts, drawn an underground paradise - known alternatively as Mag Mell or Tír na nÓg - made up of strange and fantastical creatures.

These inhabitants, or 'folk' will occasionally attempt to kill the player (somewhat less authentic, though as the game explains, other adventurers have previously 'broken' the paradise) and are largely modelled after fabled Celtic creatures. Taken as a whole, the game provides a strong overview of ancient Celtic theology, though crucially it does gloss over the role of the actual gods, including Balor, Crom and Morrigan. As such, it might better be described as a game of mythology, or as the title itself states, folklore.

See Also - Bloodforge (much greater focus on the Gods - terrible, terrible game), Hellblade (2016), Sorcery

Sometimes it's the simple things in life that make the greatest difference. Consider the minigame: a bite-sized experience nestled within a larger video game. We all know some terrible examples - ones that force you to complete arbitrary nonsense so mind-bogglingly boring, you'd rather watch your theoretical future son be left at the theoretical future altar by his theoretical future spouse then finish one more hacking puzzle.

But every now and again, a minigame comes along that cuts through this bleak miasma of mediocrity with the shining rays of clever game design. Like a fine wine or exquisite, European cheese, this minigame is the perfect blend of complexity and accessibility. It's ingenious systems keep you coming back time and again, sometimes siphoning hours from the main storyline; or in extreme cases, eclipsing it completely. What follows are the creme de la creme; peerless minigames that will deliver your son from his theoretical, future heartache.

Video games have a rich history of card game sidequests (some of which are included later in this list). The Witcher 3's Gwent is certainly among the best, even without the . It's a trading card game built around speed and efficiency. You can tailor your deck to fit a certain playstyle. You can fake out your opponent with different tricks and strategies during a match. But the most refreshing thing about Gwent is that it will end - no matter what - in three rounds or less.

The limited play time adds gravitas to each card placed on the table. Strategies must be decided upon quickly, and their results are felt almost instantly. A bad call in the first round could easily lead to an early defeat in the second. Unless that first round was a feint; a ploy to lure your opponent into wasting their best cards. Gwent, like all great TCGs, is a game of calculated risks. What's nice is that it doesn't take another 45 minutes to see if your bet paid off.

This unassuming casino game hides an interesting mix of Minesweeper and Sudoku. Just like in Minesweeper, you want to reveal all the panels on the grid that do not contain mines (or, in this case, Voltorbs). Revealing one of those is an instant Game Over. Avoiding the Voltorbs is where the Sudoku aspect comes into play. With a bit of mathematical reasoning - and luck - you can deduce which tiles are most likely to contain Voltorbs based on the clues provided and which tiles you've already flipped over.

For example, look at the screenshot above. You see the red box in the bottom left-hand corner? The '02' means the numbers in the column add up to two, while the '3' next to angry-face Voltorb means three of the tiles are Voltorbs. Each row and column is labeled like this, and by comparing them all against each other, you can puzzle out where the Voltorbs are hiding. It's basically one big logic puzzle, and clearing a really challenging board feels like you've achieved Holmesian-levels of deductive reasoning.

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Winning at Command Board feels just like winning at Monopoly. While you're swimming in an ocean of cash, your opponents are stuck paddling around the board bleeding money at every turn. It's a . But the Monopoly comparisons don't stop there. You earn your fortunes by buying up colored spaces on the board and - stop me if you've heard this before - improving those spaces so that their rent increases. And you better believe that owning all the spaces of an identical color nets you a hefty rent multiplier. The only thing missing is a diminutive old chap with a cane and tophat.

A well-executed game of Command Board is really a thing of beauty. When you exploit the board to its fullest, snag the high-traffic sections you want, and exploit those territories for all they're worth, it makes victory taste that much sweeter. To help speed the game along, each player can also spend cards for special abilities - such as rolling three dice instead of one - to tilt the odds in their favor. The only real drawback is the braindead AI, which can only stumble blindly into victory when the stars align and Lady Luck has completely abandoned you.

used to invoke images of Fallout 3's word search or BioShock's rip-off of Pipe Dreams. But Deus Ex: Human Revolution puts them all to shame. Its hacking challenges require you to think fast, act faster, and juggle about a half-dozen tasks all at once. Your objective is clear: bypass a series a nodes until you reach the one controlling whatever it is you're hacking. Along the way, there are various bonus nodes you can hack for extra credits or items, but doing so will almost always trigger the security AI. And once that's done, your hack becomes a mad dash for the virtual finish line.

The security AI is basically doing the opposite of what you're doing, only with the efficiency of a machine. It wants to reach you, you want to reach the final node. You can slow down the AI by reinforcing nodes you've already captured, or by using special programs you've collected to disable it temporarily. This is where the juggling act starts, as you jump between reinforcing some nodes, capturing others, using programs to maintain control, and more. It's a fun minigame that throws just enough techno-jargon at you to make you feel like a hacker.

thanks to its wonderfully challenging platforming, quirky personality, and a little soccer distraction called Kung Foot.

At first, you won't even notice this totally optional minigame because it's unassumingly tucked away in the main menu. But once you hop into it for the first time with a friend or two in tow, it's nigh impossible to escape its addictive grasp. It's so simple: You just run around trying to kick a soccer ball into the opponent's goal by using the platforming and physics established by Legends' campaign. Hours turn into days, days into months, and before you know it you'll have missed the birth of your child - a heinous crime that has only one remedy: more Kung Foot (and maybe a nice bottle of Gulden Draak).

You're familiar with Rapunzel, right? That gleefully light-hearted story about the little girl who's kidnapped and confined against her will in a tall tower in the middle of a wooded glen, whose captor climbs her hair like a rope because ladders make way too much sense? In , you can enjoy that delightful children's tale as a puzzle minigame found in Vincent's favorite watering hole, the Stray Sheep bar.

The gameplay here mimics the block-based puzzle stages of Catherine's (somehow more bizarre) main story. As the fabled prince smitten by Rapunzel's beautiful voice and physical appearance, you have a limited number of moves to manipulate a series of blocks and scale them to your objective. Every few stages, a new bit of the minigame's narrative is unveiled via a series of rhymes <(a href="http://catherinethegame.wikia.com/wiki/Rapunzel_Story_Transcript" target="new">full transcript here), eventually uncovering a tale that's almost as tragic as Vincent's own life.

When it comes to Final Fantasy minigames, two of the most loved are both grid-based trading card games: Final Fantasy VIII's Triple Triad, and FFIX's Tetra Master. In both games, the goal is to control as many of the cards on the playing field as possible (think Tic-Tac-Toe, but far more complex) by the time its grid has been filled out. Here's the kicker: you can gain control of the opponent's cards. In Triple Triad, this was super basic: If the card you played had a higher value assigned to it than the opponent's adjacent card, you'd win.

But in Tetra Master, each card had its own HP, damage, and defensive stats, and could potentially attack any adjacent cards or diagonal ones. This added a shiz-ton more strategy to the game, even allowing for combo attacks that could sweep the entire board at once (thus explaining those seemingly random situations in which an your opponent would suddenly flip every card you had and win the game). Compared to Triple Triad, Tetra Master offered a far deeper layer of strategy, even though its systems were woefully ill-explained.

In hindsight, it's pretty wild to think that one of the Xbox 360's first successful downloadables started life as a minigame in Project Gotham Racing 2. Geometry Wars, a twin-stick arcade shooter, can be found within the in-game garage between races. What began as a neat side attraction eventually became the primary reason for booting the game back up long after we'd scratched our racing itch.

Its ruleset is brilliantly simple: controlling a claw-shaped ship, you have to blow up as many enemies as you can before getting destroyed yourself. It wasn't long before bragging about record PGR lap times gave way to bragging about high scores in Geometry Wars. And because of its popularity, it eventually led to the creation of Geometry Wars: Retro Evolved 2--one of the .

The World Ends With You is one of the most memorable JRPGs in the Nintendo DS catalog thanks to its story, neat battle system, carpal tunnel-inducing control scheme, and, of course, Tin Pin Slammer. The goal of this minigame? To slide your pins around the board in an attempt to knock your opponent's pins out of bounds. Basically, it's 1971's Milton Bradley board game , except the DS stylus replaces the plastic guns and little metal pellets. Crossfiiiiiuuur!

Trying to outmaneuver your opponent made the game addictive enough on its own, but the addition of "whammies," or special moves, made things a bit teresting. You could, for instance, summon a giant mallet from out of nowhere, which would spin in a circle and send every pin it made contact with flying. You'll get caught up in the Crossfiiiiiuuur! Of course, that's not to mention the stage variations, which add handicaps to change the rules on-the-fly, or the fact that you can collect hundreds of pins, each with unique stats and properties. And when you finally overcome a particularly grueling match-up, victory will have never tasted so sweet. Crossfiiiiiuuur!

In the world of Might and Magic VII: For Blood and Honor, peasants and adventurers alike gambled in taverns by way of Arcomage - a tabletop game not unlike Magic: The Gathering (freakin' nerds). Each player has a deck of cards, a tower (which acts as an HP counter), and a defensive wall (think MTG's creatures) that protect said tower. Each turn, you generate resources that can be spent to play cards that either fortify your wall, replenish your tower's hit points, or attack your opponent's tower, creating a delicate balancing act of knowing when to strike and when to play it safe.

In its earliest forms, Arcomage was a mere minigame in a single-player RPG, meaning you'd only ever get to play against AI opponents. It became popular enough, though, that The 3DO Company eventually released a standalone version that could be played with others via LAN or an Internet connection. These days, enhanced variations of it, such as the Android game , are readily available and surprisingly popular.

Few things in life are as exciting as recounting tales of the good ol' days, back when Windows ME was the hot new OS (that everyone quickly grew to hate) and people had to sit through this before they could connect to the World Wide Web. It was during this now-ancient time period that we lost many a night to Mephisto farms, Diablo grinds, and, eventually, Taco Baal Runs in Blizzard's beloved hack-and-slash RPG, Diablo II. But there's another aspect to the game that dungeon crawler veterans will recall with ease: playing .

Now, it may not have been immediately apparent at the time, but everyone soon picked up on the joke: trying to rearrange your inventory just so you could pick up that rare hunting knife meant moving items around just so, dropping them on the ground to swap others in, then out, then back again. And just when you started to think that the Horadric Cube was a space-saving godsend, you discovered that it only complicated the sadistic game of inventory Tetris by increasing the number of windows you had to manage in order to maximize your rearrangement efficiency. Ah yes, the good ol' days, indeed.

An action RPG is perhaps one of the last places you'd expect to find a highly customizable rail shooter, but Kingdom Hearts II's Gummi shooting segments were surprisingly enjoyable. On the surface, Gummi ships were just a neat way to open up the next world for Sora and his crew to explore. But if you were willing to spend a bit of time poking through everything Gummis had to offer, it was easy to get hooked.

We've spent hours unlocking new Gummi pieces just so we could build new ship designs from scratch. The sheer variety of vessels you could create was downright impressive, ranging from basic starships to freakishly inventive designs . Best of all, the on-rails shooting was enjoyable all its own, complete with operators Chip Dale, who sounded an awful lot like Slippy from Star Fox 64.

In the mid- to late-'90s, digital pets were all the rage. Anyone who was anyone had a Tamagotchi or a Nano Baby; ownership of one of these was mandatory to get any kind of street cred on the middle school playground. But this craze also made its way into a staggering number of console games, including 1998's Sonic Adventure, in which you could hatch and raise living, breathing plant-people called Chao.

Though you couldn't really do much with the Chao in the first Sonic Adventure, its sequel allowed you to affect the baby Chao's alignment to good or evil. If you were playing as, say, Sonic, cooing to the baby and patting its delicate head would make it a good Chao. The process for making an evil Chao? Step one: Bash a Chao egg into into sharp rocks over and over, forcing it to hatch prematurely. Step 2: Kick / slap the baby Chao until it cries out in utter, heartbreaking despair. Step 3: Respond to those cries with complete indifference.

Christ.

Seeing Blitzball appear in a list of awesome minigames will cause you to react in one of two ways: either you'll agree, or you'll tell the writer of this very article to please go cartwheel into highway traffic. Still, many came to fall in love with Blitzball. It's basically underwater rugby, where two opposing teams - such as Tidus and Wakka's own Besaid Aurochs and the damnable Al Bhed Psyches - try to drop kick a medicine ball through the other's goal.

Matches are frustrating early on, seeing as the RPG stats of your player roster matters just as much as (if not more than) your skill. But once you scout out some free agents, level up your team, and win a few games, it's easy to to play for hours on en - just kidding, we all know Blitzball is fu***** terrible.