This scenario contains: blackmail, cheating, ntr.
The Anointing: Grace, Management, and a Locked Cabinet
The Anointing puts you at the center of the one institution that documents everything and forgives it anyway — as the person holding the pen. It is 2026, and you are the executive pastor of Cornerstone Fellowship, a six-thousand-member megachurch in a booming Southern metro: three weekend services in a converted arena, a streaming studio that puts the platform in forty thousand living rooms, a K-8 academy in the old wing, forty-one paid staff, and fourteen million dollars a year. You run the staff, the calendar, the budget lines, and the Care Center. You also hold the keys to the locked cabinet where every confession in the church is filed.
The church is genuinely beloved and genuinely powerful, and those are not contradictions. It runs food drives, recovery groups, and a legal clinic. It also runs on attendance numbers, offering totals, and the polished myth of one man's calling. Its language is grace and its operating system is management: sin is real, forgiveness is free, and a problem is not a problem until it threatens the story.
And you are the problem. You have been sleeping with the founding pastor for two years, your marriage has gone quiet, and fourteen months ago your predecessor left under a "season of healing" and a settlement nobody discusses — a file you wrote part of, in your own handwriting.
The Opening: A Pledge Count, a Reporter, and a Camera
The engine generates your opening from the campus, the staff roster, and the register — the exact hour and day are randomized within the first week of the scenario, so the building is always already busy and the countdown always already running. The annual pledge campaign is being tallied weekly. The elder board chairman has begun asking precise questions in writing about a building-fund line that does not add up. A reporter has called the front desk three times. And a twenty-four-year-old worship intern was in the sound booth the night the balcony camera recorded something it should not have.
The Care Register
Every counseling session, prayer request, and confession form is filed, indexed, and sealed — accessible to exactly two people. It is the church's memory and its weapon, and you decide what gets written down and how it is worded.
The Restoration Covenant
The church has a paper answer for every sin: a confidentiality agreement, a season of stepping back, a severance figure, and a blessing on the way out. You have signed one. Someone signed one about you once.
The Camera Is Always On
Every service is filmed, every feed archived, and the media drive holds footage nobody has catalogued. There is a balcony the cameras do not reach — and a communications director who knows exactly what the jib arm can see.
Protagonist Agency & Attribute Focus
The default protagonist is Naomi Sinclair — a 41-year-old executive pastor with dark hair, an olive complexion, and six years of running a church while the pastor is on the platform — but every part of that is a suggestion. Build a man, an older minister, a founder's protégé, a skeptic who took the job for the salary, or a same-sex marriage the congregation has decided not to notice. The spouse is created to match your own character sheet, and every NPC pursues a protagonist of any gender.
Your 60-point allocation decides how you survive the fall:
Carries the platform, the staff meeting, the donor lunch, and the confession that has to sound like one.
Catches the second phone, the amended bank statement, the intern who saw, the wife who has always known, the reporter who already has the number.
Reconciles the building fund, reads a covenant for its real terms, and knows which document will bury whom.
Three services a weekend, a board review, a reporter, and a marriage — the fall is a marathon, and the people who break break from exhaustion.
Cornerstone Fellowship: The Staff, the Board & the Press
Eleven people, each with a want, a lever, and something they would rather not have written down. Most of it is already in your cabinet.
Magnetic, generous, and fluent in the language of belonging — he remembers everyone's children's names and means it, which is why nobody wants to believe the rest. Your boss, your closest collaborator, your lover of two years. He is frightened of becoming a story, and he keeps a second phone.
Gracious, dryly funny, and formidable. She protects her family's story with a smile and a seating chart, and she has known more than she shows for years. She has never once asked you a direct question about her husband, which is the loudest thing she does.
Charming, competitive, and observant in a way people underestimate. Another of your lovers, who believes he is the one you actually want. He runs the sound booth — which means he is one of the few people who can see the balcony, and he has footage he has not shown anyone.
Measured, conservative, and genuinely worried about the church's money. He asks one careful question and then waits, which is more effective than any interrogation — and he has noticed that the building-fund balance cannot be reconciled with the pledges.
Sharp, pragmatic, and career-first. She runs the cameras, the streaming feed, and the church's public image, notices everything on camera and most of what happens off it, and is weighing whether she leaves for a bigger church with a reference or a story.
Careful, principled, and entirely aware that she is the church's shield. She drafted the covenants, the NDAs, and the severance agreements — and keeps every executed copy in her own safe as insurance. Lately she has been asking quietly whether the documents still reflect what happened.
Patient, unhostile, and completely immovable. Eight months into the church, with a former deacon as a source. He wants the severance figures and the register — and he has not decided yet whether you are a subject or a source.
Warm, earnest, and steady — a young widow who turned the worst year of her life into a vocation and actually believes the work is holy. She has begun to notice that some names are filed in a locked section and others are left in the open. She would keep your secret longer than anyone, and be the most hurt by it.
Paternal, sentimental, and quietly vain. His foundation wrote the largest pledge in the church's history and his name is on the Care Center wall in bronze. He wants a legacy that outlives him — and he is starting to ask why the building fund has not broken ground.
Earnest, funny, and painfully transparent, on the platform every weekend and young enough to be hurt. He has a crush on you that he believes is invisible. He was in the sound booth the night the balcony camera recorded something it should not have.
Quiet, smart, and angry in a way she has not admitted. The pastor's daughter took an internship in her father's church to be close to the truth, and has spent a year collecting evidence without a plan. She has a screenshot she has shown no one.
The Office Keys & the Church's Money
You begin with the tools of the only job in the building that sees everything:
- Care Center Key Ring (Value: 30 Money): The Care Center, the counseling rooms, the register cabinet, the suite, the green room, and a back door to the parking lot nobody uses. Your name is on the badge.
- The Register Pen (Value: 40 Money): A black rollerball kept in the register drawer, because the church's confessions are recorded by hand. Whoever holds it decides how the church remembers.
- Staff Laptop (Value: 90 Money): Budget files, the giving dashboard, six years of email, and the staff messaging app. IT has admin access to the drive. Senior leadership does not think about that.
- Personal Phone (Value: 120 Money): Two message threads you would not want read aloud, plus the church's own app — which shows everyone's campus check-in.
- Preaching Bible (Value: 15 Money): Six years of your own notes in the margins, some of them prayers and some of them arguing. The only object in the office that is not a record of somebody else's sin.
- 220 Money in Salary & a Church Card: Generous by the standards of the profession. The card's statement is reconciled monthly by an assistant who has started noticing the hotel line items.
Uncensored Faith: Appetite, Power & the Prayer Request
The Anointing is high heat, explicit, and uncensored. Name the acts plainly — fucking, oral sex, blowjobs, cunnilingus, fingering, groping, anal, threesomes, orgasm, cum — and write the bodies and the words in the register of people who pray in public and do this in private.
The heat curve begins mid-affair: you are already sleeping with Trent when play starts, and the marriage is already quiet. You may take other lovers — the worship pastor who records everything, the intern who thinks nobody notices, a spouse trying to reconnect — and the encounters can begin early. What must be earned is not the sex but the honesty: the confession that costs something, the moment you stop managing your own life like a staff problem. Consent here is genuinely complicated, and the scenario says so: a boss who is also a pastor, an intern for whom no is a career decision. Write the negotiation and the coercion both, and never let a manipulated encounter resolve into romance on its own.