How can you be atheist when gods and demons exist in the world?
"I REFUSE TO BELIEVE IN YOU, SIR" - to a demon lord.
It says right in the description that they don't dispute the existence of powerful beings, just that they deserve to be worshipped or are generally different than other powerful beings. In a world where mortals have ascended to godhood, it seems perfectly sensible to me.
When you know what fate awaits if you don't pay lip service to one of them, you must be quite retarded to be an atheist tbqh.
Quite the opposite, it's the correct moral stance to not give these fake gods any lip service at all and treat them like the freak powers they are
I'm not sure how it works in-game, if there is anything that resembles Christianity in Pathfinder - that if you sin you end up in hell and so on? I mean if demons and gods are manifesting in real life, how can you deny their power? Just seems risky when you can see with your own eyes what happens to you if you sin.
I would go Fabius Bile from wh40k approach there are no gods and demons just parasites that feed on mortals
This is the moment of testing. The moment your hearts are weighed against the Phoenix’s feather. Are you not curious at the outcome?’
‘Not remotely. I know my worth, and I know my crimes. This court holds no jurisdiction over me.’ Fabius straightened, trying to slow his heart rate. His muscles strained against unknown pressures. It was as if he stood at the bottom of a vast ocean, and the weight of thousands of fathoms pressed down on him.
‘Its jurisdiction extends far beyond your ability to conceive, alchemist. You have committed crimes of such monstrous elegance that even the gods themselves grow uneasy. Look – see – they sit in judgement of you.’ A too-long finger drifted upwards, and Fabius followed the gesture. He looked up, and something looked down.
It was not a face, for a face was a thing of limits and angles, and what he saw had neither. It stretched as far as his eyes could see, as if it were one with the whole of the sky and the firmament above. Things that might have been eyes, or distant moons or vast constellations of stars, looked down at him, and a gash in the atmosphere twisted like a lover’s smile. It studied him from an impossible distance, and he felt the sharp edge of its gaze cut through him, layer by layer. There was pain, in that gaze, and pleasure as well. Agony and ecstasy, inextricable and inseparable.
With great effort, he tore his gaze away. ‘There is nothing there,’ he snarled, his teeth cracking against each other. His hearts stuttered, suddenly losing their rhythm. He pounded at his chest, as internal defibrillators sent a charge of electricity shrieking through him. The chirurgeon flooded his system with tranquillisers, and he tapped shakily at his vambrace. A secondary solution of mild stimulants joined the tranquillisers, stabilising him. He ignored the urge to look up. There was nothing there. Nothing at all. ‘There is nothing there,’ he said again, tasting blood. ‘There are no gods. Only cold stars and the void.’
The pressure increased. Something whispered, deep within him. It scratched at the walls of his mind, trying to catch his attention. He ignored it. ‘No gods,’ he repeated. ‘Random confluence of celestial phenomena. Interdimensional disasters, echoing outwards through our perceptions. I think, therefore I am. They do not, so they are not.’ He met the Quaestor’s bland gaze unflinchingly. ‘Gods are for the weak. I am not weak.’
The Quaestor nodded expectantly. ‘No.’
Also, friendly skeleton man:
oTB you can visit it.
