Game description:
Sermon is a compact first‑person horror game that traps you in the silence of a nearly abandoned apartment building for one long night. You agree to stay as part of a simple deal—watch over the place until morning and enjoy free lodging. At first, the arrangement feels harmless. The hallways are empty, the rooms are bare, and the building is still. But as you begin moving through its narrow corridors, the sense of calm begins to thin. Light flickers in strange rhythms, faint sounds drift from behind closed doors, and every shadow seems just slightly out of place.
Moving Through The Building
Your journey begins with only a flashlight to push back the darkness. The building’s layout is simple, but its atmosphere turns even short walks into tense stretches of uncertainty. You pass through dimly lit corridors, occasionally stepping into rooms where something feels wrong—whether it’s the smell of dust, the strange placement of furniture, or the way sound echoes differently in each space. The further you go, the more you feel like you’re moving deeper into a place that doesn’t want to be disturbed.
What You Will Do
Over the course of the game, you will:
Explore the building’s empty floors and locked doors
Search for the key that will allow you to leave
Use your flashlight to reveal hidden details in darkened corners
Pay attention to environmental hints that suggest an unseen presence
Experience a sudden, disorienting event that changes the tone of your exploration
These simple actions are enough to carry the tension, as the environment itself feels like an active participant in your stay.
Subtle Changes And Unease
The more you explore, the more the building begins to feel alive. Sounds emerge from nowhere—soft thuds, shifting boards, or the faint scrape of something against a wall. Some areas seem to alter subtly between visits, as if the building is rearranging itself in small ways. The game avoids direct threats, but the absence of them becomes its own form of pressure, forcing you to wonder when, or if, something will finally step into view.
A Brief But Eerie Stay
Sermon is short, but its quiet dread lingers long after it ends. There are no jump scares, no elaborate set pieces—just the constant weight of isolation and the feeling that you’ve been observed all along. By the time you step outside, the night air feels sharper, and the memory of those dim, echoing corridors refuses to fade. It’s a reminder that sometimes, the emptiest spaces can feel the most haunted.
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