Orson Scott Card once observed that science fiction and fantasy is the only genre of literature where theological exploration and speculation is still routinely allowable at a popular level. He’s right, and this development is absolutely on-brand for the genre.
Life was good for Shane Liesegang in the early 2000s.
In his 20s, he had a good job, plenty of friends, and lived in sunny Los Angeles.
“Things were pretty terrific,” he said.
And yet they weren’t. Instead, Liesegang was angry most of the time — at God, at himself, at the world around him and, often, at the 405, the main LA highway, known for its legendary traffic jams. One day, his blood boiling, Liesegang had had enough.
“I had this moment when I thought, this is ridiculous,” he said. “I can’t be angry at traffic. I can’t do anything about this.”
That realization led to small changes — counting to 10, taking deep breaths — which kept him from blowing his top. As his anger cooled, he went from being angry at other drivers to making excuses for them.
“Someone would cut me off and I’d think, I bet she’s a cardiologist on her way to the ER,” he said. “Or he’s really trying to get home to see his kids. This really clicked for me.”
That experience also sent Liesegang on a spiritual quest, which would eventually lead him to leave his work as a designer for games like Fallout and Skyrim — some of the genre’s most popular role-playing games — and join the Jesuits, the same religious order as Pope Francis. Then, just when Liesegang thought he was done with video games, he got a call from an old boss, asking him to write the core texts for a space religion to be featured in Starfield, what would become a blockbuster video game.
The 41-year-old Liesegang’s life has been filled with surprises.
A self-described “pretty big nerd,” he grew up playing video games and taking part in school plays. In college, he studied psychology and computer science, tried his hand at playwriting and took a few media studies classes that included a critical look at video games. Those classes made him wonder if he might be able to combine his interests into making video games for a living.
After graduating from the University of Virginia, he headed to Carnegie Mellon, for a grad degree in entertainment technology. His combination of skills proved useful and opened doors in the video game industry, first at Electronic Arts, maker of Madden NFL and other popular games, and later at Bethesda, maker of Fallout, Skyrim and Starfield.
“I had this sense of story and character — but also knew how to work in a computer system and get it to tell these stories,” Liesegang said.
For a long time, religion was not part of his life. He’d been raised Catholic in Jacksonville, Florida, a Southern city where Protestants were in the majority and religion was something to argue about — not a source of meaning.
After his spiritual experience on the 405, Liesegang found his way to St. Monica, a Catholic parish filled with young adults who packed out weekend Masses. He described it as a spiritual community that didn’t feel churchy — where people wanted to learn about God, make friends and appreciate life.
“That was a great place to be, especially for a formerly very angry 25-year-old,” he said.
When he moved to Maryland to work for Bethesda, his interest in religion and video games began to merge. Though he didn’t talk much about faith at work, he’d often find himself working on liturgical texts or rituals for the fictional religions in the studio’s games. His experience at church gave him a feel for the language and cadence that rituals and religious texts need.
While at Bethesda, he also began to feel a yearning to do something that might impact others’ lives in a way video games can’t. He also began to look into the Jesuits — in part to answer his curiosity about Pope Francis, the Jesuit cleric elected head of the Roman Catholic Church in 2013.
Liesegang eventually joined the Jesuits in 2015 — which led him back to grad school to study philosophy at Fordham University and then to Boston College, where as a Jesuit scholastic or priest in training, he’s currently studying theology and working with students. Liesegang also spent two years in Beirut, working with refugees as part of discerning what his future ministry could look like.
His past life in video games does come in handy while working with college kids. Once in a while, they’ll ask about his background and be taken aback when they learn he worked on Skyrim.
On Starfield — a futuristic space exploration game that launched to wide acclaim this fall — Liesegang was asked to write a theology for the Sanctum Universum, one of the game’s three main religions. Along with exploring the star, battling space pirates and fending off galactic snake cultists, players search for a series of artifacts that grant them mystical experiences and superpowers.
Players have the option to join a religion, including the Sanctum Universum, which teaches that God can be experienced out among the stars. The faith’s texts, which players can find scattered throughout the universe, are more about philosophy and a search for transcendence than theology, said Liesegang, though there are hints of Catholicism in it. He did have to run his work at Starfield by his Jesuit superior. But Liesegang said that, as long as he was writing fiction and not really trying to start a new religion, he was on pretty solid ground.
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4 Responses
Neato! Makes me want to go play STARFIELD. I’ll put it on my list. About this comment: “Orson Scott Card once observed that science fiction and fantasy is the only genre of literature where theological exploration and speculation is still routinely allowable at a popular level.”
Absolutely. I actually rewatched two classic SF films recently that I hadn’t seen in ages: 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY and the director’s cut of STAR TREK: THE MOTION PICTURE. I was really surprised by two things. One, how deeply religious the themes are in both movies (very surprising, considering A.C. Clarke and Kubrick were both atheists). And two, how ST:TMP is basically just a remake of 2001 — and its religious themes are even more explicit.
Many thoughts:
The first, is that I haven’t played Skyrim in a while and I really have to get around to completing the main story. I’m also going to put Starfield on my wishlist. I had hesitated to do so before because of the mixed user reviews and pricing, it being a relatively new game and all, but now, I think I’ll get around to getting it eventually, budget permitting.
There is a case to be made here for normalizing the idea for priests to not “just” be priests. I think a wealth of outside experience gives them a more grounded approach to the priesthood, where they see themselves as more of a part of the community they serve, instead of ruling above it. Its towards that end that I feel that the Catholic Church would be better off if they abolished the tradition of priestly celibacy; not necessarily as a personal vow or as a practice of particular order, but as a generalized principle. You know, as a way to broaden their scope and recruit more “normals”.
Regarding religion itself, the reason why I don’t think its going away anytime soon, is because the things which we designate as such, are actually a number of different phenomena, all bundled together. A religion is not just an assertion of beliefs regarding the divine and its relation to the natural world: it can also be a philosophy, an ethical framework, a shared group identity, a community and also a political ideology. My point is that all these things can exist on their own, regardless of whether or not they have coalesced together as a “religion”.
RE: There is a case to be made here for normalizing the idea for priests to not “just” be priests. I think a wealth of outside experience gives them a more grounded approach to the priesthood, where they see themselves as more of a part of the community they serve, instead of ruling above it.
Maybe. It’s an interesting thought. I have been re-reading the New Testament lately with a particular eye fixed on HOW the early Church lived and operated. I know it can be a misstep to put too much stock in that. The culture of the 1st centruy Mediterranean is very different than our own, with different worldviews and needs. But one thing that REALLY stuck out at me:
Today, we have many of our priests mired in the duties that were traditionally done by deacons. In the early days of the Church, presbyters (which we now call priests) had the primary duty of preaching, teaching, and administering the sacraments. All of the other responsibilities of running what we would now call a parish — finance, building repairs, distribution of resources, etc., etc., — were done by deacons. It did make me wonder if the quality of our priests might improve if we went back to basics on this and stopped forcing them into being clerical administrators. Leave that to others.
RE: Its towards that end that I feel that the Catholic Church would be better off if they abolished the tradition of priestly celibacy; not necessarily as a personal vow or as a practice of particular order, but as a generalized principle. You know, as a way to broaden their scope and recruit more “normals”.
I don’t know. I definitely think it is a topic worthy of discussion. But there are also some big pitfalls along that path. Marriage can be tough. It is a full-time 24/7 job — as is the priesthood. No human alive can devote 48 hours worth of time and attention into a 24 hour day. One of the responsibilities will inevitably be neglected. If you think priestly celibacy causes problems, what till we are mired in priestly divorce rates.
On the other hand, my feeling on this question is much the same I have on issues regarding military organization: As someone who has never been in the military (or the priesthood), I’m not sure my opinion ought to count for much. Those with skin the game ought to be the one making this call, not me.
Regarding priestly celibacy, I hear you about the concerns regarding people’s capacity to effectively manage their time when caught between multiple high-priority commitments; however, I think that is something that should be evaluated on its own merits, individually.
For example, it might fair to say that the priesthood is not a good fit for someone already working a full-time job, with 4 kids and another on the way; but that same criteria should not apply in the same way for someone whose children are self-sufficient adults, or for someone who has entered retirement, or for a couple who are unable to conceive. I would add a marriage that has taken a vow of celibacy to the list, as portrayed in the Orson Scott Card novels, but I’m not sure that’s actually sanctioned within Catholicism.
Point is, that I don’t think that marriage, in and of itself, should be the disqualifier, even if they do take into account practical considerations that might be adjacent to it.