Who Are The Gods In 'Bastards Ascension: A Playground Of Gods'?

The gods in 'Bastards Ascension: A Playground of Gods' are a wild mix of ancient deities and modern chaos, each with their own twisted agendas. I’ve read enough mythology to know these aren’t your typical all-powerful beings—they’re flawed, petty, and downright brutal, which makes them fascinating. Take the Sky Shatterer, for example. This guy doesn’t just control storms; he revels in tearing the heavens apart just to watch mortals scramble for cover. Then there’s the Veiled Queen, a goddess of secrets so paranoid she’s erased her own true name from existence. Her followers whisper prayers into empty air, hoping she’ll hear, but half the time she’s too busy playing mind games with other gods to care.

What’s cool is how the story blurs the line between god and monster. The Hollow Maw isn’t worshipped—it’s feared. A god of hunger that devours entire villages not for power, but because it’s literally starving, and no one knows why. The book digs into their origins too, like the Broken Smith, who forged the world’s first weapons but now spends eternity trying to unmake them, guilt ridden. And don’get me started on the Twin Fates, two gods bound together who constantly rewrite mortal destinies out of spite for each other. It’s less about divine order and more about what happens when gods are as messy as humans.

The lesser deities are just as intriguing. There’s a god of forgotten roads who manifests as a hitchhiker, offering rides to lost souls—for a price that’s never cash. Or the Drowned Muse, a goddess of art who only inspires creators after they’ve nearly died at sea. The book’s genius is how it ties their powers to their personalities. The War Puppet doesn’t lead armies; it possesses soldiers like literal puppets, but only those who’ve already given up hope. It’s chilling stuff. And the way mortals interact with them? No grand temples—just desperate bargains scratched onto alley walls or screamed into storms. This isn’t a world where gods care about worship; they’re forces of nature with grudges, and that’s way more interesting.

'Bastards Ascension: A Playground of Gods' flips the script on divinity by making its gods feel like rebellious teenagers with world-ending powers. I’m obsessed with how their hierarchy isn’t about strength but about who can cause the most drama. At the top, there’s the Silent Judge, a god who doesn’t speak but ‘punishes’ by forcing people to relive their worst memories on loop—until they go mad or repent. Then you’ve got the Glass-Eyed Prophet, who sees every possible future but deliberately gives misleading visions because ‘predictability is boring.’

The younger gods are where things get really unpredictable. The Flame That Licks Back started as a human and stole divinity by tricking a dying god into a drinking contest. Now it manifests as sentient wildfires that only burn liars. Or the Crow King, a deity of thieves who ‘blesses’ followers by cursing them—they can steal anything, but their hands rot if they keep it too long. The book’s lore hints that these gods might’ve been created by mortal desires gone wrong, like the Gutter Saint, a god of beggars who feeds on desperation and grows stronger during famines.

What hooks me is their relationships. The gods don’t unite against threats; they backstab each other mid-apocalypse. The Iron Widow, a goddess of betrayal, once helped mortals overthrow another god just to marry his corpse and absorb his domain. Even their immortality’s flimsy—the Bastard’s Feast is a ritual where lesser gods eat pieces of a dying greater god to steal their power. The whole system feels unstable, like the pantheon’s one bad day away from collapsing. And that’s before the ‘Ascension’ part kicks in, where mortals can allegedly become gods by outsmarting them. The deities hate that rumor, which probably means it’s true.