Worldbuilding Wednesday: Holidays Without Religion.

A World Without Gods Still Needs Meaning

I want to talk about religion and worldbuilding for a minute, because this setting forced me to confront something I don’t see discussed very often. What happens when gods don’t show up? Not dead gods, not distant gods, not sleeping gods. Just none. No big answers waiting in the sky, no clerics channeling certainty, no pantheon arguing over who owns the sun.

This world is a massive Jovian planet in a stable orbit, wrapped in multiple moons that tug at time, tides, and memory. Civilization is scattered, never clustered too tightly, because history has taught people what happens when you build too big or too fast. Entire cultures have risen and vanished through technological hubris, magical catastrophes, or some terrible mix of both. The planet always survives, though, and it heals faster than anyone is comfortable admitting.

A Planet That Does Not Forget

Vegetation here does not politely wait for history to settle. It reclaims abandoned places in days and weeks, not months and years. Towns vanish under moss and root. Cities become necropoli almost overnight. Stone remembers long enough to crack, and then the green takes it back.

This changes how people think about permanence. It also changes how they think about reverence. You do not worship a world like this. You learn how not to anger it, and even that feels like the wrong word.

Magic is real. Spirits are real. Demons exist, and dragons are not misunderstood angels waiting for redemption. They are dragons, and they will eat you if given the chance. No gods or demigods have emerged in any lasting, meaningful way, or if they did, they were buried alongside the civilizations that imagined them.

Spirits Without Thrones

Spirits here are local, limited, and conditional. Some grow stronger through attention and ritual, but none possess a true domain or global authority. They do not shape reality so much as lean on it. A river spirit might remember every bridge that collapsed into it. A ruin spirit might only exist as long as people keep telling the story wrong.

This creates a spiritual ecology instead of a hierarchy. There are no priests of universal truth, only people who have learned which names to say carefully and which names to stop saying at all. Faith becomes maintenance rather than devotion.

Some cultures managed something stranger. The Otter Kin and the Ophidslakt formed homes directly from the planet itself, shaping earth and stone as if the world was willing to meet them halfway. We do not yet know how or why this works. It might be magic, it might be relationship, or it might be a leftover echo from something older and higher dimensional that the planet still remembers.

Holidays Without Creation Myths

So what do holidays look like in a world like this? They are not about creation stories or divine birthdays. They are not about salvation or cosmic purpose. They are about survival, memory, and timing.

Many holidays exist to slow people down. Entire regions observe days where no digging, building, or land shaping is permitted. Not because the planet demands rest, but because ignoring these rhythms has historically ended very badly. These days are quiet, inward, and deeply practical. Otherwise we end up in a Skinwalker Ranch-type situation.

Other holidays exist to manage spirits rather than praise them. Communities gather to acknowledge helpful presences and deliberately let others fade. Names are spoken, names are erased, and attention is redistributed carefully. It is less a prayer and more an ecological reset.

Remembering How Things Ended

Because civilizations fall so often, remembrance focuses on endings instead of beginnings. Some holidays commemorate calamities without moralizing them. Lights stay low. Towers go unlit. Stories are told about cities that solved everything right up until they didn’t.

These nights are uncomfortable by design. They teach humility without preaching it. They remind people that cleverness is not the same thing as wisdom, and scale is not the same thing as strength.

There are also celebrations that mark disappearance rather than achievement. When the last visible stone of a ruin vanishes beneath vegetation, people gather to acknowledge that the place is gone. Food is shared. Stories are told carefully. The land is thanked, not for giving, but for taking it back.

Local Truths, Not Universal Ones

There are no global holy days here. Calendars vary wildly from region to region, shaped by moons, terrain, and history. Two settlements a few kilometers apart might observe completely different traditions on the same day, and neither is wrong. There are also no global telecommunications or even roads between settlements in some cases.

This fragmentation creates friction, misunderstanding, and a sense that meaning must be negotiated locally. It also keeps power from consolidating. No one gets to claim the calendar for everyone else.

In a setting like this, religion is not a ladder to the heavens. It is a map of past mistakes, careful habits, and shared silence. Ethics grow out of consequence, not commandment.

Going Out With Intent

As I wrap up this Hex A Day experiment, this felt like the right note to end on. A world without gods does not lack meaning. It just refuses to outsource it.

In 2026, I want to zoom out. Larger territories, deeper histories, and Twilight Sword worldbuilding that builds on these ideas instead of escaping them. If you’ve been walking this road with me, thank you for trusting the quiet parts as much as the loud ones. That matters more than any pantheon ever could.

Thank you for being here with me today. I appreciate you. Keep it real, but please strive for positivity, too. Please embrace the things that bring you the most joy in your life.