How Do Video Games Represent The 9 Realms Differently?

I get a kick out of how different studios use the Nine Realms as either literal places you visit or as flavors that color the whole game. From my late-night streaming sessions I’ve noticed three repeating approaches: realistic reinterpretation, sandbox-biome translation, and symbolic or psychological use.

Realistic reinterpretation treats the realms like cultural heritage. 'God of War' and 'Assassin's Creed Valhalla' attempt to root realms in material culture — architecture, clothing, and social practices — so you feel like you’re walking through a living myth. Sandbox translation, seen in 'Valheim', makes each realm function like a biome with unique materials, bosses, and environmental rules, encouraging exploration and progression. Meanwhile, symbolic uses (think 'Hellblade') fold realms into character psyche: the maps become metaphors for grief, memory, or moral choice.

On the mechanical side, representation affects travel and accessibility. Some games give you hub-and-spoke realm travel with big narrative gates; others let you freely traverse via portals or boats, and modders often rework these systems to feel more authentic or to add challenge. Artistically, you’ll find anything from gritty realism to neon-fantasy abstraction. If you’re into lore, it’s fun to compare how close a game stays to sources like the 'Poetic Edda' or if it borrows only names and themes. Personally, I flip between enjoying accurate reinterpretations and celebrating wild departures — both keep the myths alive in different ways.

When games tackle the Nine Realms from Norse myth, they often sound like three different directors got drunk and each made their own version of the same legend. I love watching that creative fragmentation: some titles lean into mythic fidelity and gloom, others into playground-style sandbox, and a few treat the realms as mechanical palettes for different gameplay loops.

Take 'God of War' (2018) — it’s cinematic, intimate, and heavy on cultural texture. Asgard and Midgard feel lived-in, with Asgard’s lofty grandeur contrasted by Midgard’s grittier, human-scale villages. Jotunheim is mystic and massive, wrapped in rune mysteries that feed narrative puzzles rather than platforming gimmicks. The game uses realm travel sparingly and purposefully; each realm shift carries weight and stakes. By contrast, 'Valheim' turns the cosmos into a survival sandbox: each realm (or biome-inspired equivalent) is a biome with distinct resources and bosses, designed primarily for crafting loops and player-driven exploration rather than a fixed story.

Then there are games like 'Hellblade: Senua's Sacrifice' and 'The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim' that reinterpret Norse elements for psychological or heroic afterlife settings. 'Skyrim' gives us Sovngarde as a heroic afterlife, bright and martial, while 'Hellblade' mines the realms for internal, symbolic resonance — foggy, hallucinatory, folded into personal trauma. And MOBAs like 'Smite' treat realms as arenas: broad-stroke aesthetics and symbolic powers supplies the lore but the design serves competitive balance more than faithful cosmology.

What I take away is that the Nine Realms become whatever the design needs them to be: metaphysical stages for lore-heavy storytelling, resource-driven biomes for survival crafting, or stylized battlegrounds for multiplayer. That creative freedom can be frustrating for myth purists, but it’s also why I keep coming back — every game is a new conversation with the myths, and I love picking apart what each one chooses to emphasize while sipping my coffee at midnight.

I often think of the Nine Realms as a toolbox designers dip into. Sometimes a game presents them as distinct lands with unique physics and monsters, like biome-hopping in 'Valheim'. Other times a title uses them to anchor storytelling and mood, like the somber, rune-haunted landscapes in 'God of War' or the internalized, hallucinatory spaces in 'Hellblade'.

The main differences come down to purpose: are the realms platforms for mechanics (resource, boss, progression)? Are they narrative stages that reveal cultural or psychological truths? Or are they stylized set pieces for multiplayer conflict? Visual language, accessibility (fast travel or locked progression), and how closely a developer follows mythic sources also shape the experience. Personally, I love hunting for small touches — a rune pattern, a changed creature design, a folk motif — that signal whether a realm is meant to be believed in-world or simply evoked for gameplay. That little detective work keeps exploration interesting for me.