Prometheus – God of Disappointing Sci-Fi

April 26, 2020October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Prometheus formed spontaneously in 1999 with the release of Star Wars
Episode 1. He sits in scathing judgement over an entire genre. He is notorious for stealing Firefly from the DVD collection of the Gods.

Prometheus’ temples are all virtual. Devout worshippers will have a small home shrine. Usually a stained desk baring a powerful gaming PC surrounded by votive candles, polyhedral dice and crumbs. From this stronghold they ride forth like paladins, across the world wide web, to do battle with anyone who dares to hold an opinion. For this reason they are also known as “The Fandom Menace”. The most devout are said to be powerfully magical hermits who deliver remote wrath and judgement upon anyone who “quite liked Jurassic Shark”.

Once a year, followers quit their solitude and assemble in Picardy for a celebration of their culture called the “Com Icon”. The ceremonies, celebration of the arts and general roistering lead many to mistakenly believe that this festival has much in common with the ancient Dyonisia. They are wrong. Once things get going, Com Icon makes a Bacchanalian frenzy look like a Vestal Virgin’s tea party. What happens at Com Icon, stays at Com Icon. It is compulsory to attend dressed as a character from Prometheus’ rich mythology. Followers will spend the weeks approaching the festival perfecting elaborate masquerades to be seen in. The first commandment of Prometheus being “Make it sew”. Whilst there is a wide range of guises one can choose, going as “Nude Iron Man” is seen as a lazy cop out, so don’t turn up Stark Naked. The only other costume that is forbidden is that of a medic from Star Trek. (You’re only allowed to wear that one if you’re the real McCoy.)

The priesthood can be recognised by their vestments, which somehow simultaneously manage to appear futuristic and creatively anachronistic. Their full ceremonial outfit comprises a tartan travel rug, six rolls of tinfoil, an Ikea sheepskin rug, a heavily modified hairdryer, a pair of welding goggles, a whacking great sword and a bucket of glitter. They will sit on panels throughout the festival of Com Icon to answer questions from their congregation. The priesthood has typically been male dominated, however, there is now extensive pressure for gender balance in the sect, and this is starting to have an effect. For example, since 2018 Priestess Whittaker has become famed for her doctrinal wisdom.

The core belief of the religion of Prometheus is that the Geek shall inherit the earth. Throughout life one must prove one’s dedicated fandom and encyclopaedic knowledge of sci-fi by being corscruatingly scathing of all prequels, sequels and spin offs. Virtue is competitive, and one must devastatingly take down every other aficionado who is potentially nerdier than thou, with plot holes and superior sneers. If one successfully lives according to this “Janeway of Righteousness” you will go to a nerd’s paradise called “The Elysium Force Fields” when you die. In this hereafter, one gets to have as many long, uninterrupted conversations with Brent Spiner as one wants. How many other religions’ afterlives can boast unlimited Data?

I am still afflicted by a finger injury, and have decided to take a proper week off from drawing to let it heal properly. In the mean time, to tide you over, here is an early deity, which I drew in 2018, but somehow escaped being posted before. It was suggested by the excellent Will Bailey.

(Before anyone says, “It’s Comic Book Guy from The Simpsons”, I know at least six guys who look exactly like this. Attempt to sue me and I WILL introduce you.)

Idol Scribblings Volume Two
Coming out 30th November 2020

Even more deities for every eventuality with a foreword by Gary Brannan of the Technical Difficulties ( TechDiff.co.uk )
Pre order before November 14th 2020 for a special early-bird discount and to get your name included in the book as a patron.

Pre order here https://idolscribblings.blog/the-book

Idol Scribblings Volume One

A collection of 52 deities, ancient and modern, for all occations from Idol Scribblings. Produced in 2019-2020.

Order your copy here
https://idolscribblings.blog/the-book/

NEW!
IDOL SCRIBBLINGS COMMISSIONS

What do you get the person who has everything? Turn them into a God!

I can turn your friend, relative or even you pet into a humorous Idol Scribblings cartoon. They make a perfect gift!

Click this link to contact me for more information about how to deify your loved ones like a Roman Emperor of old!

Thank you for reading. If you have enjoyed this deity, please feel free to share it with your friends. New deities are published weekly. You can get alerted to new deities via Facebook through the Idol Scribbling Page or on Twitter by following @IdolScribblings . Catch up on the Pantheon so far here.

If you have a suggestion for a deity, you can suggest it by clicking this link. Alternatively, get in touch over on Facebook or Twitter. All due credit will be given.

Aunt Agone – Goddess of Bad Advice

April 19, 2020October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

The gods in general have a very strange attitude towards prophecy. They grant the gift to some, but then get a bit vengeful if the seer divulges any major spoilers. Most prophets circumvent this wrath by speaking in maddeningly vague riddles and metaphors. Leaving the gods able to smugly say, “I told you so”, and mankind screaming back at the heavens, “BUT NOT IN A WAY ANYONE COULD UNDERSTAND UNTIL AFTER THE EVENT YOU METAPHYSICAL ASSHATS!”

Aunt Agone cunningly avoids this philosophical conundrum by only giving bad advice through her oracle. If one does the exact opposite of what she says, it will usually all turn out fine. This enables the seer to use direct language in their proclamations without being smitten from on high. There is no pithier oracle. It turns out that obviously bad advice is more helpful than good advice given badly. Some of her oracle’s most famous are:

Give your bother a proper send off, your uncle will come round in time. (1300 BCE)

Buy Betamax! (May 1975 CE)

Book this year’s summer holiday well in advance. (January 2020 CE)

Yes, it is possible to make someone love you. (Pretty much every damn day since the dawn of time)

The temple of Aunt Agone is built above the sacred cavern where the oracle sits. The sanctuary above is supported by a forest of mighty columns. This goddess has many, many columns. The temple also houses a squat orange holy stone known as the Oompaloompaphalos. Carved into the stonework at the temple entrance are the four famous unhelpful advisory clichés. “Just be yourself,” “Don’t overdo it,” “Money isn’t everything,” and “Err…?”

The fee to consult the oracle is tuppence. This is excellent value, as you can be sure you will always get the goddess’s two pence worth. When a worshipper seeks to consult the oracle of Aunt Agone, they will write their question on a sheet of papyrus, always beginning with the salutation, “Dear Aunt Agone, …” You are advised to make your question as torrid and embarrassing as possible to significantly increase your chance of receiving a response. Occasionally, the stream of enquires wanes to a trickle for a time, then the priestesses will fabricate a few juicy questions to help the prophetess stay in practice. The only subject you are forbidden to ask the oracle for guidance on is cookery. If you want sage advice, ask a chef.

The papyri bearing the queries are collected by the priestesses and presented to the oracle. The oracle herself mystically receives the ignorance of the Goddess in her cave whilst inhaling the “Vapours of Desperation*” which emanate from a massive crack. She enters a shamanic state induced by this psychoactive steam and the music of the priestesses, who play an ensemble of miniature violins. The Oracle will dictate the responses, which are then posted on the temple columns weekly. The supplicants then cluster around. Avidly scanning the columns for their answer, and having a good nosy at everyone else’s. There always seem to be more worshippers reading the columns than have asked questions. I am not sure whether this is because they seek general guidance for potential future situations, or maybe it’s because it’s even better than a soap opera.

The oracle is selected from amongst the priestess (who themselves have been chosen from amongst the general populace for their impressive magazine racks). The chosen oracle will be priestess who is growing old the most disgracefully, as one can only give bad advice once one stops being a good example. Once in-augur-ated, she can be recognised by the symbolic pair o’ Docs that she wears at all times. The oracle also leads the cult of Aunt Agone in their long running religious war against the worshippers of Retrograde the god of newspaper astrology and exam remarking. Her followers believe Aunt Agone should have the monopoly on bad advice and that this rival sect is infringing on their theological territory. They regularly carry out raids where they steal a few inches off one another’s columns.

At the end of your visit, as you leave the temple, a priestess will offer the comforting blessing, “Go then if you must, but remember, no matter how foolish your deeds, those who love you will love you still.”

*I am told it smells like farts.

This week’s cartoon is not coloured as I have a minor finger injury (from a vicious shopping bag handle) which is limiting how long I can draw for. Hopefully it will be better in a few days. Feel free to print out the picture and colour her in yourself! Tweet me @IdolScribblings to show off your colouring in.

If you have a suggestion for a deity, you can suggest it by clicking this link. Alternatively, get in touch over on Facebook or Twitter. All due credit will be given.

Arpeggios – God of Prog Rock

April 12, 2020October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Arpeggios the God of Progressive Rock, is also known by some as Septoctimus. His sacred animals are the Camel and the Snow Goose. His genesis story tells that he was the son of a Nature Goddess and the God of Miners. Which made him a natural miner deity. He got a bad case of arrhythmia, which he caught off the Crimson King. This left him feeling fragile and drove him close to the edge. However, this also made Arpeggios an object of worship for those that stand still and listen intently to the beat of a different drum.

The primary commandment of Arpeggios is,
“The top number of thyne key signature shalt always be a prime number.”
They tend to be somewhat elitist and try to avoid lowly common time at all costs. They believe the 4th of April to be the most unlucky day of the year, and their most sacred day is the 7th of August. Whilst they consider themselves to be a forward looking faith, in reality they are more firmly stuck in the early 1980s than the carpet of a Working Men’s Club in Wigan.

Each service is lead by a group of four or more priests working together in perfect synchronicity and harmony. (There was one occasion however, when one of the priests walked off following his own special way, and then there were three.) The services of Arpeggios are notorious for their protracted sermons, which are usually in excess of 20 minutes long in order to allow time for each priest to do a solo. The worshippers in the congregation will firmly grasp a pint of ale in their hands throughout the proceedings. This is to stop them embarrassing themselves by trying to clap along. However, at the end of the service they will put their glasses on the floor and their hands together to show their appreciation.

The priesthood all dress in sparkly robes, much like kinky wizards. Every priest carries a massive bunch of 24 keys. Not only is this a la mode, these keys are for the temple door which has 24 locks. When a vocalist rings the tubular doorbells and asks for admittance, the priest inside has to use all 24 keys before the singer can come in. (This only applies to the main entrance, in total the temple has 32 doors.) Arpeggios’ priests practice a form of sacred ritual magic. This is unnecessarily complex, and can go disastrously awry if they suffer a lapse in concentration. All the chambers where spells are cast have a large cautionary sign on the wall which reads, “Focus on Your Hocus Pocus!” The rest of the temple is adorned by sacred art, all of it airbrushed.

Like many sects, they have some rituals which appear cruel and barbarous to people from other cultures, such as the Rite of Hammond Organ Tipping, which is practised by some Arpeggionians. Once on it’s back, a poor Hammond cannot right itself. It is heartlessly left there with it’s little pedals waving helplessly in the air. Then the wretched instrument is tormented with daggers to make it scream in interesting ways. There is a more humane movement within the faith to ban this brutal custom, and the recently founded “Society of Arpeggionians for the Protection of Hammond Organs” (SAPHO) is rapidly gaining support. SAPHO advocates the use of synthetic Hammond replacements and runs the Happy Haven for Harrassed Hammonds. This sanctuary has a lovely conservatory for the organs to frolic about in. If you would like to visit the sanctuary, and maybe sponsor a Hammond Organ, you will find it located in the picturesque village of Emerson on the shores of Lake Palmer. Please, please, give all you can to help the organs.

I would like to thank James R Turner @JRTwrites and Kris Hudson-Lee @nomenloony for suggesting Arpeggios.

If you have a suggestion for a deity, you can suggest it by clicking this link. Alternatively, get in touch over on Facebook or Twitter. All due credit will be given.

Hengehog – God of Archaeology

April 5, 2020October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Hengehog began existence as a terrifying mythical beast that haunted stone circles and ate hapless druids. Since the beginnings of the archaeological movement in the 1820’s he began to be worshipped as a deity by that intrepid band of muddy knee’d history hunters.

Hengehog is usually worshipped out in the field. Before a rite, an advance team of priests will check the archives, take aerial photographs and divine mystical electromagnetic conductivity readings to select a suitably interesting field to gather in. As they arrive, each worshipper is allotted a “square” to worship in. You must never enter someone’s square without their consent. If you do, they may baulk. During the ritual they will kneel and bow low in their trench, and worship with brushes and tiny trowels. Unless no one else is watching. Then they stand back and worship with a back-hoe loader. (Whatever methods they employ, this is a ground-breaking faith). Most dream of uncovering some amazing religious artefact during the ritual, but most would just be happy to find the set of keys that they lost at last year’s ceremony. The rite may last several weeks, regardless of weather conditions, biting insects and curious sheep. Each evening, the worshippers will gather back at their camp and make a libation to Hengehog. Raising high a leather tankard full of their traditional brew called “Lidar”. (Remember, if it doesn’t come from the Lida region of Belarus, it’s just Geo Fizz). The last of the series of rites they will carry out returns the field to way it looked before. This final ceremony is called the “Fill Hard In”.

Despite their alfresco worship, the cult of Hengehog does have temples. These hallowed halls are where the sacred relics discovered during their rituals are studied, lovingly preserved and displayed. These artefacts are so jealously guarded, that their protection has become an obsession. This obsession has reached a level where the curator-priests are terrified of losing their marbles (or at least someone else’s marbles that they were just holding on to, to keep them safe, honest).

The priesthood wear the traditional dress of steel toe cap wellies, moleskin trousers and colourful hand knitted jumpers. The senior priests will also sport a distinctive hat, supposedly for making them easily identifiable by their flock whilst out in the field (actually an attempt to look a bit like Indiana Jones). Being a priest of Hengehog is a fairly cushy gig. It’s one of the few careers where it’s okay to be caught knapping on the job. They all hope to become High Priest someday, as this is a superposition.

You may be surprised to learn the cult of Hengehog is a test pit of vice and a trench of filth. Everyone seems to have their eye on someone else’s post hole. They are driven by their sarsensuality, to the point where they really will date anything. They become dolmental. Utterly unhenged. When two Henghogians dig each other’s features, they will become tumulescent with excitement and hurry to enjoy cairnal knowledge of one another. (The forensic archaeologist sub-sect are a little more discerning, they are constantly in search of MILFS. Mummies I’d Like Funding to Study.)

Hengehogians are pretty direct about courtship. The most common Hengehogian chat up lines are, “Have you got a megalith in your moleskins or are you just pleased to see me?” and “Are you an archaeozoologist? ’cause I’m a bit of an animal and I’ve got a bone in my pants that I’d like you to date.” If you ask a Hengehogian to send you a nude pic, they will helpfully include a 2 meter ranging pole in shot for scale. Hengehogians will often have open relationships as they like to date other peoples. Sadly, they are not very attractive to people outside of the faith, because they smell of ancient grease and their hands have a tendency to Rome. Hengehogians are also known for being quite sweary. To the point where they don’t so much use full stops as f- stops. The gritty nature of their culture may well be the effect of decades of excavating thousands of votive penises, or perhaps it’s the utter filth they read on the walls of Herculaneum as impressionable neophytes.

It is extremely entertaining to watch any follower of Hengehog eat moussaka, trifle or indeed any layered food. If you invite a Hengehogian to dinner, why not make them feel especially welcome by serving a lasagne with a few pottery shards and coins hidden in between the layers. (Note: they will bring their own eating tools in a leather roll and their own tankard.)

The faith of Hengehog has no holy book. They did once discover a sacred ancient tablet called the “Con-Text”, but tragically, the Con-Text has been lost.

I would like to thank Carrie-May Mealor, @flintdibble and @stevetoase for being a source of inspiration for Hengehog (in some cases unwittingly). Also to Kieron Philips for pointing out a that a typo would make a great deity. My apologies if you haven’t laughed at any of these jokes. That’s because they’re pre prehysterical.

If you have a suggestion for a deity, you can suggest it by clicking this link. Alternatively, get in touch over on Facebook or Twitter. All due credit will be given.