Let's kill God! The 5 most satisfying deity kills in gaming

Although the modern incarnation of Kratos, from 2018's God Of War, and now Ragnarök, is at least trying to break his god-killing habit, the version in the franchise’s previous seven games was capable of no such restraint. As such, we’re kind of spoiled for choice here, with nemeses like Ares and Zeus both serving as easy picks. But if we have to go for a hands-down favorite, we’ll have to toss our choice to a trio of characters who aren’t technically gods, but who fill that role in the franchise perfectly well: The Sisters Of Fate.

Defiance of fate is a common theme in the God Of War games, where characters can’t sneeze without it being the subject of some secretive prophecy that claims to guide their every step. Kratos makes his hatred of predestination very literal, though, in God Of War II, when he picks a fight with Clotho, Lahkesis, and Atropos, the mythical Fates, who object to his desire to steal their time machine-esque Loom Of Fate for vengeance-based business. The stand-out part of the fights against the Sisters is undeniably the battle with thread-cutter Atropos, who whisks Kratos back in time to the climax of the first God Of War, attempting to shatter a massive sword that past-Kratos used to overcome and kill the hated Ares, thus wiping both the past and present versions of the raging man-god out in one fell swoop. It’s a clever way to invoke the Fates’ control over past, present, and future—and an extremely satisfying victory once Kratos shatters her plans to shatter him.

Many video games make the quest for God far too complicated, asking players to trek for 60 hours at a time to finally achieve a violent audience with their creator. No such ordeals for Scribblenauts’ Maxwell, though: Just like with anything else the player can imagine, they just have to write “God” down in their magic notebook, and BOOM, instant deity. And once he’s there? Well, Scribblenauts is famously a game that will let you kill anything…

The most fascinating things about Scribblenauts’ “God,” though, are the various prejudices and beliefs that 5th Cell has programmed into their bearded little omnipotent buddy. God will, for instance, respond negatively to any character that’s had an adjective related to the Seven Deadly Sins applied to them—so please, keep your Gluttonous Kittens or Prideful Ducks away from his Almighty self. He also, hilariously, has specific interactions if you create an “atheist” using the notebook. In earlier versions of the games, they’d cower in fear from sudden exposure to divinity, but later games give them the courage of their convictions: If these hardened non-believers come into contact with God, he’s the one who vanishes, presumably in a Douglas Adams-esque puff of logic.

When it comes to god-killing in the Bayonetta games, it’s a very “Go big or go home” mentality—and few gods come bigger than Jubileus The Creator, the final major challenge of the first Bayonetta. Resurrected by a Creepy Evil Priest in the form of a giant statue, Jubileus initially seems suitably omnipotent, towering over the games’ sassy titular heroine as its climax comes into focus.

Still, this is Bayonetta we’re talking about: Players will swiftly start disassembling the creator deity with style and aplomb, smashing up the statue with kicks, punches, and, of course, hair-based demon summoning. Not even getting whisked out into the upper atmosphere can stop Bayonetta’s onslaught; if you’re questioning whether this bit of god-slaying involves riding a motorcycle straight into outer space, you’re clearly not familiar with how over-the-top these games can get. In fact, Bayonetta (and her friend Jeanne) are so thorough in their god-slaying here that killing Jubileus isn’t even the biggest problem: It’s breaking up all the shards of her big stone body after she’s dead, ensuring that they don’t pancake the planet as they fall back to earth.

By the time players reach the end of From Software’s Dark Souls, they probably know more about Gwyn, lord of the gods of Anor Londo, than they do about their own characters. A Zeus-like figure with command over dragon-slaying lightning and armies of loyal warriors, Gwyn is the architect of the dying world in which the games take place, while his triumphs, his decisions, and his failures—especially his failures—scar the landscape and the souls of his followers and family alike. Whether the players seek to serve or usurp the god-king, re-igniting or snuffing out the mythical, life-sustaining First Flame he’s bent his entire life and empire toward keeping lit, reaching him quickly becomes the game’s ultimate goal…at which point, Dark Souls executes its last, and cruelest, punch.

Because the figure found within the distant Kiln Of The First Flame is not the wise leader, the fierce general, the stern father glimpsed in so much of the game’s lore. This is, after all, Gwyn, Lord Of Cinder, not flame: Having tossed himself onto the First Flame in a desperate effort to keep it lit, and burning for a thousand years, he is now little more than a creature of rage and instinct, indiscriminately and mindlessly attacking anyone foolish or brave enough to come into reach. The sad, tinkling piano of the game’s final boss theme lays it out perfectly: This isn’t a titanic battle between god and mortal. It’s a mercy killing.

Although depictions have varied greatly across the franchise’s 36-year history, most of the games in Atlus’ long-running Shin Megami Tensei role-playing franchise (think Pokémon, but with demons, if you’re unfamiliar) do agree on one point: The only practical differences between a “demon” and a “god” are power and attitude; players can, thus, expect to kill a lot of mythical deities, from just about every culture on the planet, when making their way through one of these ultra-difficult adventures.

Still, the SMT games do tend to put some special emphasis on the Creator god that looms over all, sending out (or allowing to be sent out in his name) a whole bunch of archangels whose M.O. is usually to make things more violent, not less, what with their dogmatic adherence to cosmic law. Sometimes referred to as “The Greater Will,” but often just called YHVH, in reference to the Hebrew name for God, this supreme deity is used sparingly by the games, often only appearing in references, or through proxies.

Two major exceptions, though, span almost the entirety of the franchise’s length: 1994's Shin Megami Tensei II, and 2016's spin-off game Shin Megami Tensei IV: Apocalypse, both of which allow the player to confront YHVH directly—confrontations that inevitably break down into violence, as the god is completely unwilling to take notes from the pitiful creations that should properly exist only to feed him adulation and worship.

More than maybe any other game series, SMT takes the idea of fighting God seriously: The fights against YHVH are as brutal and abstract as challenging omnipotence should be, forcing players to come in with perfect preparation and a firm understanding of the rules dictating the ways they build their particular team. Victory, though, is sweet, especially in Apocalypse: Humanity unshackled, no longer at the whims of an uncaring and arrogant creator. Not bad for a day’s god-slaying.