Review
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Fun & play
4 min read

The grand narrative that’s made it on mobile

The Serpent & The Seed is a welcome addition to the cosy games genre.

Giles Gough is a writer and creative who hosts the God in Film podcast.

A mobile game still shows a robin standing close to a seated man.
Mungo and Adam.

The Serpent & The Seed is a game with a difference: an imaginative retelling of the world's greatest story. In a world overtaken by an evil serpent, you play the character of Mungo, a young robin encouraged by his owl friend to read an old, mostly forgotten book that holds the promise for salvation.   

Released last Easter by Discipleship Tech (the creators of the Prayer Mate app) The Serpent & The Seed aims to tells the story of the Bible as a mobile adventure game. Turning the Bible story into an app feel like quite a novel idea. A cursory search shows that there’s no shortage of Bible based games to play on your phone, but most of them appear to be quiz or trivia based. Seeing this grand narrative, from creation to crucifixion, in game form feels both novel and inevitable, how you might imagine seeing the gospel story be put on film for the first time. “Throughout history, Christians have created, shaped and used technology for God’s glory” the Discipleship Tech website tells us; seen in that light, using a mobile game to deliver the gospel is simply the next step in a line of technological use that stretches back to the invention of the codex.  

Although the game has only been in development for just over four years, it’s had a much longer gestation period than that. “It's an idea I've had for about 20 years now,” says project leader, Andy Geers, “I grew up playing lots of computer games and knowing Jesus and getting to know the Bible better… So I kind of thought: wouldn't it be great if we could combine those two things?” Geers says that the catalyst for this game was a research project. According to the Bible Society’s Lumino research project, a quarter of the UK population are "open to the Bible and finding out more". The Serpent & The Seed is Geers’ way of meeting that need.  

This is clearly a labour of love for all involved and it shows. The dialogue sparkles with cheeky irreverence at times thanks to scriptwriting from Amy Green (BAFTA-winning writer/developer of That Dragon Cancer, the video game centring on the loss of her infant son, Joel). Ostensibly aimed for players ‘9+’, the narrative has to dance around some of the more unpleasant parts of the Old Testament, which it does so lightly and humorously. At one point in the Garden of Eden level, Adam tells our robin character Mungo, that naming things is hard work, and he needs a rest. Mungo then ponders whether Adam has any idea what hard work is! The framing narrative of talking animals in a world full of thistles and thorns ruled by an evil tyrant has shades of Narnia, which may have been an unconscious influence and is very much appreciated.  

One particular highlight is the musical interludes. The developers aimed for the music to be a leading character in this mobile game, and the score was composed by song-writing duo Poor Bishop Hooper. When you unlock another chapter in the game, the almost transcendent songs kick in, combined with the logo appearing in its beautiful lettering, creating an enjoyable experience. It also features music from Canadian artist Jim Guthrie, whose Superbrothers: Sword & Sworcery EP was something of an inspiration for the atmosphere of the whole game.  

The game appears to be connecting with the public, many of whom are praising its art design. Greg Clifton’s illustrations are soothing and light-hearted (I’m pretty sure Moses is rocking an awesome quiff). “It seems to be pitched as a chilled, interactive story with some minor puzzle solving, a subgenre that is increasingly popular these days,” writes gamer and RS teacher Natalie Minaker. “I imagine that this game can provide a few hours of mental respite to any stressed-out Christians!”  

Unfortunately, the lack of challenge is hard to avoid mentioning. As this game is telling a very well-established story, there’s very little jeopardy and as a result, the pace lags a little in parts. “The gameplay is gentle and seems to promote a sense of mindfulness rather than any real sense of peril or challenge,” continues Minaker. In certain levels there are Christian themed takes on popular mobile games - Angry Birds, Flappy Bird, and even Snake (which will be a pang of nostalgia for those of us who had a Nokia in the 90s). What is clear is that playability takes a back seat to story here, and when that story is the Bible, that’s understandable. There’s also a distinctly estuary English accent to the voices shouting “hosanna” as Jesus enters Jerusalem on a donkey which might momentarily take you out of the story, but this is merely nitpicking.  

Whether it will effectively compete for pre-teens’ attention in a saturated market remains to be seen, but this is another useful tool to have in a kids or youth leader’s toolkit. It might also serve as the kind of homework an RE teacher could set that the students might enjoy completing! Older gamers or committed Christians might not find much of the content particularly revelatory, but they may find its gentle pace and soothing aesthetics a welcome addition to the emerging ‘cosy games’ genre. 

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4 min read

Why does the Pope matter today?

The personal, vivid link to the origins of the movement that changed the world.

Graham is the Director of the Centre for Cultural Witness and a former Bishop of Kensington.

An Anglican bishop wearing purple shakes hands with the Pope.
The author meeting the late Pope, 2024.

There is something about the way popes are elected that captures the imagination. Whoever dreamt up the idea of black smoke for ‘no decision’, and white smoke for ‘habemus papam’ – ‘we have a new pope’ - was a genius at marketing. So much better than a press release or a tweet from the Vatican X account. 

The conclave was brought to our imagination so vividly by the recent film with Ralph Fiennes. We love the idea of secret debates, intrigue, people locked away from the world until they come to a decision with arcane ancient rituals and an uncertain outcome. Was there ever a film whose release was better timed?  

There are also the sheer numbers involved. There are approximately 1.4 billion Catholics in the world today – roughly the same as the population of India and China, the world most populous nations. Yet the identity of the new pope is of matters to the rest of us too. The leader of China of India is of interest especially to people living in China or India, but maybe less so for those of us who don’t. The new pope is the head of churches round the corner from where you live, or of people with whom you work, or, if you are Catholic yourself, your own spiritual leader. This appointment matters. 

Yet it’s not just the optics, the drama, the numbers. And it’s not just for Catholics either. I am an Anglican, and since the Reformation of the sixteenth century, we have had in our own 39 Articles the statement: “The Bishop of Rome hath no jurisdiction in this Realm of England.” That might seem to settle the matter that it’s of no interest to English Protestants. But that would be wrong. 

I met Pope Francis once. It was at a gathering of Anglican Archbishops in Rome last year. We all were led through magnificent Vatican corridors into an imposing state room, adorned with fantastic frescoes, where the white-robed Holy Father was brought in on his wheelchair to deliver a brief 20-minute homily to us all. 

It was a good talk, thoughtful, well-constructed, but in many ways unremarkable. It didn’t say anything much that I hadn’t heard from other sources. Yet somehow this was different. His words carried a weight, a gravity that went beyond the content of the lecture itself. It was as if, when he entered that room, he carried with him two thousand years of church history.  

The line of Bishops of Rome goes back to St Peter, the gruff, unschooled fisherman who Jesus called from his mundane life to become an apostle, and who then on, was so captured by the person of Jesus that he gave his life in the cause. I left that room conscious of the weight of the office of the papacy, even if I don’t recognise him as my direct spiritual father. 

Listening to this successor of St Peter felt like you were listening to one of the friends of Jesus – and this was not just the personal quality of the man himself, but something about the office he occupied. It was a personal, vivid link to the origins of the Christian movement, the first stirrings of the revolution. 

The papacy is one of those unique things in modern life - an umbilical link to the past.

Of course, there have been some pretty terrible occupants of the papal see, whose personal lives showed scant evidence of any knowledge of, or relationship with Jesus. The sixteenth century Roderigo Borgia (Pope Alexander VI) comes to mind, who despite the rule on clerical celibacy, had several children from various mistresses, won the Papacy by bribing cardinals, and made his favourite son bishop of several lucrative sees at the age of eighteen, and a cardinal at nineteen. So, there is nothing automatic about this – which is why the Protestant Reformers denied the idea of any blanket automatic papal authority.  

Yet when a person of evident holiness is combined with this notion of the weight of the office, the papacy becomes a gift to all of us, linking us back to the earliest followers of Jesus – even to Jesus himself.  

The papacy is one of those unique things in modern life - an umbilical link to the past. Monarchies do something similar – linking us to the past through the long line of kings and queens of England, Denmark, Spain or wherever, yet more often than not, the events they lead us back to, the process by which those families took power, reveal murky politics, bribery and bloody battles.  

 This is a line in history that links us to the event that, if Tom Holland’s Dominion is to be believed, has had more impact in shaping western culture than any other – the remarkable life, death and resurrection of Jesus – a radical life full of love, self-giving and transformative power – for both individuals and whole civilisations. And for that, whether we are Catholic, Protestant, Orthodox, or even, perhaps, unbeliever, we might raise a prayer - or a glass - of thanksgiving.