Bruce Blackshaw has an article, Applying Pascal's Wager to Procreation (PDF), that exhibits some of the absurdities that arise from a too-simplistic understanding of Wager-like arguments. Some of this is, perhaps, due to the fact that Blackshaw equivocates between two different kinds of argument -- Pascal's Wager in the proper sense and the Port Royal variant, the latter being distinguished by explicit introduction of hell as a worry. It is also complicated by the fact that Blackshaw makes an assumption that seems to be increasingly common that hell is to be understood as "eternal conscious torment". This is a phrase I've always found peculiar; "eternal conscious torment" as opposed to what? Eternal unconscious torment? Eternal conscious mild annoyance? It is, in any case, contrary to the assumption of Blackshaw and a number of others (Blackshaw particularly singles out Kvanvig as his source), not a part of most of the Christian tradition on the subject, which has focused on poena or punishment, which is a much more wide-ranging term than 'torment', has typically denied that hell necessarily involves torment (e.g., in various doctrines of limbo), has historically been open at least to the possibility that any punishment of hell might admit of respite (e.g., in popular legends according to which the damned have respite-periods -- legends according to which, in C. S. Lewis's phrase, the damned have holidays, and which have never been treated as heretical), and has always recognized that the damned can have darkened intellects to an extent that it's unclear how much of their punishment would have to be 'conscious' in any sense like what we would usually mean by such a term. That hell is not temporary, is not a mere state of unconsciousness, and is not pleasantly rewarding can all be accepted as traditional, but these are three distinct things, not to be jumbled together.
But in any case, Pascal's Wager (and variants, like that of Port Royal) is about the possession of practical reasons for believing in the absence of definite proof, and (at least in Pascal himself) an argument for the practical value of looking for theoretical reasons for believing. Blackshaw, however, wants to extend the equivocation, claiming that a closely analogous form of reasoning "can also be used to calculate the expected moral value of actions." This is simply an error; Blackshaw is, first, leaping from Pascal's Wager (already equivocally conceived) to decision theory in general (not every use of decision theory is particularly like Pascal's Wager), and then assuming that decision theory is the proper formal representation of moral value. As Blackshaw has set up the matter, the decision-theoretical matrices only consider consequences, which means that even at the most generous assessment the ethics being assumed has to be entirely consequentialist. They are applied, however, to a wide variety of people (primarily theists, but Blackshaw correctly recognizes that his argument if valid would also apply to some nontheists -- in fact it would, if correct, apply to anyone who does not have in hand a proof that there is no "eternal conscious torment"), and people are very often not consequentialists. (This contrasts as well with Pascal's Wager, which is applied to agnostics, not theists, and is given in a context in which it is not in fact assumed that consequences are fundamental, only that they are at least one of the things that needs to be considered. Pascal is very much not arguing that the Wager is the best reasoning on the subject, and denies that it is in itself definitive; what it does instead is show that the kind of agnostic with which Pascal is concerned is ignoring practical reasons that at least ought to be considered.) Even many consequentialists, however, do not have a form of consequentialism in which moral value is entirely determined by expected value in the decision-theoretical sense; Blackshaw, basing his claim on comments by Zhao, claims that "many philosophers" have such a theory, but one should be skeptical of such a claim, and I would imagine there are relatively few. In any case, it creates a problem for Blackshaw's argument, in that in trying to move from decision theory to moral theory, he has had to make assumptions that require a highly controvertible, and generally not accepted, moral theory.
Part of the issue is that decision theory does not tell you what you must do, in any sense of 'must' -- you only apply decision theory when you are already assuming that there are several options open. What it tells you is, given a set of goals already in hand and truths already known, how different options fare as strategic paths with respect to those goals. Or in Pascalian terms, it identifies possible loss, possible gain, and what is at stake, given the assumptions about the situation that are being made. But this just tells you how to get what you want out of a wager in an established game; it does not tell you whether you should want that or not. The bridge between the two questions of strategy and of goal is not decision-theoretical at all, but ethical; and the ethics that Blackshaw has to assume in order to make any argument at all is a very narrow one that would be widely regarded as inadequate even to basic moral questions. (I haven't even gotten to 'the Asymmetry', the specific moral thesis that Blackshaw uses to come up with 'expected moral value', which despite Blackshaw's following Mahan in regarding it as "very intuitive" is itself highly controvertible.)
