Lovecraftian game engines, who wouldve guessed

Cyclopean code blocks and sky-flung monoliths, all dripping with green ooze and sinister with latent horror...

Screamingly sentient, dumbly delirious, only the devs that were can tell. A sickened, sensitive reference writhing in code that is not code, and whirled blindly past ghastly midnights of rotting defines, corpses of dead memory with sores that were variables, charnel winds that brush the pallid pointers and makes them flicker null. Beyond the memory vague ghosts of monstrous constructs; half-seen columns of unsanctified statements that rest on nameless line numbers beneath space and reach up to dizzy vacua above the spheres of light and darkness. And through this revolting graveyard of the repository the muffled, maddening beating of keys, and thin, monotonous whine of blasphemous beeps from inconceivable, unlighted chambers beyond the kernel; the detestable pounding and piping whereunto dance slowly, awkwardly, and absurdly the gigantic, tenebrous ultimate gods—the blind, voiceless, mindless functions whose soul is Nyarlathotep.

(from Nyarlathotep by HP Lovecraft)

Anyone who's looked at game engine code...

Gargoyles of the cathedral of computing.

non-euclidian