Empty Tomb (Raider): Pillaging the Gospel for Games

“Are those the Stations of The Cross?” Shadow of the Tomb Raider wasn’t exactly the game where I expected to find the Stations of the Cross. And yet, there I was, toggling around an animated room in the “Mission of San Juan,” trying to solve a series of mirror reflection puzzles that wove themselves around statues of Christ and his cross.

When main character Lara Croft and her friend Jonah first enter the Mission (a building or group of buildings used by Christians), it’s into a crumbling, beautiful ruin of a church that they wander. The surfaces are adorned with chipping white paint and networks of vines that string themselves between wood and walls, hiding an obvious destroyable wall or two. My fingers itch to press the buttons that activate Lara’s ice axe—a little out of place considering there’s no ice in sight. It’s with this tool that she pulls apart the bland white walls to reveal paintings of Christ hung on the cross.

The religious liturgy inherent in Shadow of the Tomb Raider is fascinating and engaging, but is it really helpful if the game essentially decapitates the transcendence that Christians have faith in?

Video games rely heavily on imagery. The monsters in Up on Silent Hill crudely represent the playable character’s inner turmoil over (spoiler) murdering his wife. The weather in Ghost of Tsushima is stormy and tumultuous when the player acts dishonorably and fair when the player makes objectively good moral choices. Unlike many films released nowadays, video game developers are good at showing, and through that, telling.

Regarding Shadow of the Tomb Raider, Christ and Pop Culture writer Cole Burgett has already thoughtfully discussed how unique and special it is that the Stations of the Cross were incorporated into a Tomb Raider game. Lara Croft is probably the most iconic video game character of all time (sorry Mario)—anything Jesus-related included in her story is significant because of the game’s reach. Different from Burgett, what I want to address here is how video games often plunder bits of the Christian narrative—stealing images that tell a story—and fail to show their greater meaning.

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Lara descends into the basement of the church, a dark setting full of shadows that harshly contrast with the light of the upstairs. The juxtaposition creates an irony that should not be lost on the discerning. The damp, dark underneath is filled with bodies—acolytes devoted to their religion. Watching this segment five years after I first played it, I felt a little (un)righteous frustration swelling in my throat—Shadow of The Tomb Raider was picking pieces of the gospel and employing them for fear factor, splicing out the hope.

By confining Christ to his death, the game’s darkness is not affected by true light. The hope of the resurrection of Christ is not given the opportunity to pierce the deep dark tunnels of this fiction. Game designers often like to keep you here, in an odd mix of curiosity and fear. And it is here where many players like to be because fascination with (or perhaps instead, fear of) death and darkness is exciting. There is an element of transcendence present, yes, but one informed by pagan ritual and tradition.

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Last year, North Wake Church here in Wake Forest held a Stations of the Cross walk-through on their campus (a little foreign for a Baptist church, but helpful nonetheless). The experience occurred in stages, with periodic stutter steps as my group let another pass or waited for a young family to continue. It was awkward at times, but it left me even more hopeful for the coming Resurrection Sunday.

However, it felt heavy—I didn’t want to stay there for too long.

Images of the cross and a battered Jesus are used in movies (think The Exorcist), videogames, and songs to bring consumers to a particular depth. There is meaning in the blood. In Shadow of the Tomb Raider, the crosses and their positions help to structure a deep, dark segment of a rather terrifying game. In fact, this is probably where I depart from Cole Burgett’s conclusion: The religious liturgy inherent in Shadow of the Tomb Raider is fascinating and engaging, but is it really helpful if the game essentially decapitates the transcendence that Christians have faith in?

I’d argue no, because it feels like a bait and switch. Small little crosses spring out from creepy, sharp-edged walls, creating a sense of foreboding. Is there a sense of transcendence? Yes. But it encourages visceral fear of the unknown, and there is no goodness—no salvation.

Never do I feel an impending doom on Resurrection Sunday. I’ve always experienced peace, because I know that my savior died on a cross for my sins but rose from the grave on the third day. What a joyous day it is! But that doesn’t sell well in the middle of a quasi-horror game.

As my dad pointed out when I was trying to shape up this article, there’s an easy appreciation for games such as the Assassin’s Creed series. They don’t tend to toy with the Christian transcendence. All is (for the most part) quite factual—historically accurate. And the mystery is kept intact.

So, don’t be afraid to engage with those narratives that veer from what we know to be true—they make for great conversations (and article topics). But also remember to hold central the hope that we expect every year as the days count down to Resurrection Sunday. We have a good God who makes the darkness quake, and there’s a reason that the tomb is empty.