Corvid Grin

If you were a weird kid in the 90s, you probably lived through some version of this: a Sunday school teacher, a youth pastor, maybe your best friend’s mom cornered you with a very serious warning—the Devil was coming for you through your hobbies.

Magic: The Gathering was a portal to hell. Dungeons & Dragons summoned demons into your living room. Pro-wrestling? Somehow satanic too. If it was fun, imaginative, and just a little edgy, it was all part of Satan’s plan to snatch up innocent souls and drag them to eternal damnation.

I sat through a youth group skit where the pastor literally roleplayed as Satan at a demon board meeting, celebrating how Hollywood and tabletop games were doing Hell’s work. I pushed back—I was a Magic: The Gathering player back then—and it got…heated.

Next thing I knew, there was a voicemail on my family’s answering machine from my youth leader, urging me to “repent through Christ” for my involvement with the forces of darkness. The funny part? I wasn’t in town that week—I was on vacation with my family. It was all a big misunderstanding, but also deeply ridiculous.

That whole era, the Satanic Panic, was fueled by fear and control. When you boil it down, it wasn’t really about Satan at all. It was about the fear of imagination, of kids thinking for themselves, of anyone stepping outside the approved narrative.

Now, as an adult—and as a maker who thrives on dark art, occult imagery, and strange stories—I’ve spent some time unpacking what Satan actually represents in all these tales. Turns out, it’s the oldest archetype in the book: the rebel who brings knowledge to humanity. Prometheus stealing fire. Lucifer offering forbidden wisdom. The trickster who says, “You don’t have to obey.”

That’s dangerous if you need people to believe there’s only one divine plan—if you need obedience over autonomy. And sure, that trickster spirit can be chaotic, messy, even dangerous. But it can also be liberating. When you hand power back to the people, they might actually get free.

And here’s the twist: most modern Satanists aren’t worshipping some horned deity. They’re not praying to greed, wrath, or sloth. Most aren’t worshipping anything at all. They’re practicing radical self-determination. They’re saying you are responsible for your choices—good and bad.

Personally, I wouldn’t call myself a Satanist. I’d call myself a humanist. I believe in us—messy, flawed, incredible us. Every war, genocide, and cruelty we’ve ever unleashed came from our hands, not some supernatural scapegoat. But so did every painting, song, act of kindness, and moment of beauty.

I believe in our capacity to create, destroy, and rebuild. I believe in our power to choose meaning in a chaotic universe. That’s not scary to me. That’s freedom.

Just…maybe don’t tell my grandmother.