[L] [Tenacious T][Secret Project: Wrath of God]

[Sauron_Body]

[Tenacious T][Secret Project: Wrath of God]

Oi, pessoal
Eu ja estive aqui no CdE uma vez mas minhas historias foram um fracasso total (uma coisa que nao deveria dizer quando se esta prestes a ler uma historia minha, mas é a verdade e a verdade dói)...
Vou tentar de novo...
A história está em ingles pq ela começou sendo uma Redação para minha aula de Reading aqui nos EUA e se transformou em algo mais...
Ela vai ser dividida em varios episódios (nao sei pq) e esse é mais ou menos o episódio que introduz a historia. Se vcs gostarem eu coloco Episodio 2. Se nao, nao!
Bom, aqui vai:

Prologue Part I: The End is the Beggining

September 11th, 2001.
The world is struck with pain. Two airline planes crash into two buildings. The second greatest terrorrist act in history shook the pride of the people of a country once known as United States of America. The President declares War against Terror, with great grief.

May 29th, 2003
The President of the United States declares War against a country once called Iraq and North Korea, in a speech never forgotten. The main goal to acheive is to destroy their tactical weapons and annul their chances of making terror prevail.

June 1st, 2003
A secret project later to be called Project Wrath of God is iniciated by North Korea and Russia. Even if their purposes are unknown, the United States fights against it, for it is renown as an act of terror.

June 30th, 2003
The President of the United States makes a grievous speech, changing the fate of the world. President George W. Bush resigned from office, after admitting that World War III had been a failure. He died of mysterious causes the following day and Congress seized power.

July 2nd, 2003
The US drops a Nuclear Bomb upon Baghdad, capital of Iraq, killing more than 2 million people instantly.

July 3rd, 2003
Known simply as “The Day”, World War III was declared. The World vs. United States. Blood spread everywhere. More nations joined the Project Wrath of God, but some still believed in primary terror-less justice.

December 21st, 2004
After more than one year of fighting, a new kind of bomb is dropped upon New York City. 30 million people are killed instantly, and more than 200 million are dead after the following week. The Project Wrath of God takes responsability for it afterwards.

January 1st, 2005
A second bomb from the Project Wrath of God is dropped exactly at 90 degrees latitude, 0 degrees longitude, in the South Pole. As a consquence, Antartica melts almost instantly, causing a great flood, killing more than half the population of Earth.

After that day, the world did not count time anymore. The population was divided into two factions that still fight each other. The Sojourners of Truth, that follow the idea of the Project that everything must be destroyed, so that God can start it all over, and the Defenders of Justice, that fight against them.
Their story is told here...

Paul pulled his aircraft to a safe altitude to avoid the missile, and watched as the weapon flied razing his wing. He was safe, for the moment.
“Flying at high altitude. Need assistance” he called over the radio, observing the blood-colored dusk sky.
“Be right there” said his squadron mate, Neil.
And his aircraft pulled up through the stratosphere. The air could be seen, evading his blue wings in purple whisps reflecting the golden sun below.
Meanwhile, Paul had been trying to escape a Sojourner on his tail. He went right, he went left but the Sojourner’s crosshairs never seemed to flee from his aircraft.
“I can’t get him off my tail. He’s locked onto me!” he said, deseprately pulling his joystick down, diving his ship into the ocean beneath the whispering wind of summer.
The Sojourner started to fire his gun, seeing that the desperate Defender in front of him was starting to flee. The green rays ravaged Paul’s wing, just when he heard a blow, and the Sojourner was gone.
“Thanks Neil”
“You’re the man, Chief” said Neil
“That’s all for today” said a voice over the radio, and their cockpits went blank. Paul opened his cabin and dragged himself out of the simulator he’d been on since the morning for casual testing.
Paul was an average person. Average height, weight and personality. Perfect for the military. His short hair, black as a crow’s feather, appeared as he took off his helmet.
“Lieutenant Lockwood” said Neil, as they met in the hallway.
“Forsythe” responded Paul.
Neil was a tall man, with short yellowish hair. His face was long and his nose was thin and bony. He himself was really thin too. He and Lieutenant walked along the hallway talking about useless things, such as the weather, their superiors and food. They went to their lockers and put on their normal clothes and headed for the cafeteria.
“Lieutenant” said a brown-haired woman, with a South-American accent.
“Carvalho” said Paul
Rita Carvalho was one of the many non-american pilots of the Defender Order. She was from Brazil and fleed to the USA when her city flooded during the aftermath of the Wrath of God bomb in Antartica. She, Paul and Neil composed the front flank of the Rushfire Squadron.
“I heard that we might be going into war soon” said Rita, sitting with her squad mates at a table nearby.
“Bullshit. They never give us real fighting. Only that simulator all the time.” Said Zico Perez, seating himself along with the others. He too was a member of their squadron.
“I wonder why we’re losing this stupid war”
“Stupid? This war is what brought you here in the first place” Neil pointed out.
“But this is not my war, it’s –” replied Zico
“This is the World’s War, Zico. If we can’t win, then those Sojourners will press the reset button and we’ll just turn into cinders. Is that what you want?” Asked Paul
“No”
“Then it’s your war”
And they stayed silent until the end of dinner.

 

[Green Arrow]

o phoda é q tá em inglês... e eu não sei patavina!
mas parece estar bom, no estilo de Memorial de Aires.

 

[Largo Cavafundo]

Sr. Tírion, velho de guerra!
[neste momento Largo percebe que ao usar esta expressão ele deixou de ser si mesmo e tornou-se um velho decrepto e caduco, de barbas longas e cabelos ausentes, com apenas metade dos dentes que costumava ter, sentado em sua cadeira de balanço contando histórias sobre como as coisas eram diferentes no 'seu tempo']

Bem, como nos velhos tempos, estou aqui para pelo menos opinar nesta sua nova criação... (e vc sabe como eu posso ser chato, então não ligue demais para as críticas, pois eu só estou postando para mostrá-las, já que elogios e bajulações nada ajudariam você a escrever seu texto)

Em primeiro lugar: qual foi a reação do pessoal daí? Pq afinal, seu texto tem um tom bastante crítico, e eu gostaria de saber o que eles acharam de sua opinião sobre a posição americana nestes acontecimentos atuais...

Agora, seu texto está bacana. Não elogiarei mais que isto, mas também não está nada pior do que o indicado por esta palavra. Bacana e pronto.
Um dos motivos de não ser nada mais foi o constante uso de clichés, tanto no contexto histórico geral que você propõe, que já foi bastante usado, quanto nos fatores mais específicos da história, como algumas das entradas no 'calendario' e alguns recursos literários.
Porém, eu gostei da mistura de recursos que você propôs, e acho que você podia explorar isto mais no texto, conforme você for continuando. Inclusive, você poderia fazer uma lista maior de datas e dividi-la com mais parcimonia no texto, o que geraria um efeito interessante de quebra de estilo, e talvez deixasse a leitura mais agradável. Eu sugiriria algumas entradas (umas 10, quem sabe?) no início de cada capítulo/parte/como-quer-que-você-decida-dividir. Nessas entradas também houve alguns momentos um pouquinho forçados, que você poderia amenizar um pouco.
Quanto aos personagens: não sei se esses serão os personagens principais, mas a apresentação deles (um tanto cliché também, devo dizer, mas que ainda funciona bem junto com o 'calendário' do início) me indicou que sim. Eles parecem interessantes, mas talvez merecessem uma descrição mais desenvolvida. Seus nomes ficaram bem legais, sendo simples mas significativos. Só achei que a entrada de uma brasileira ficou forçada: cuidado com o etnocentrismo, explore culturas diferentes da sua e daquelas com as quais você tem contato, isto pode ajudar a deixar o texto mais verossímil.

Finalmente, digo o seguinte: tente não gastar a idéia muito rápido, mas desenvolver uma trama boa e talvez até longa, pois este começo permite isto, e até exige em alguns pontos. Lembre-se que os clichés não devem ser motivo de preocupação: idéias novas não existem atualmente, e o que importa é como você desenvolve a idéia velha. Ache uma maneira nova e siga em frente, pois você consegue!


(Não vou falar nada sobre erros de linguagem, pois odeio quando fazem isto com meus textos, mas existem alguns. Revise seu texto e sei que você acha. Na maioria dos casos eles são mínimos.
Você está pensando em continuar a escrever em inglês ou passar para o português? Eu recomendo a segunda opção, para que mais pessoas do fórum possam ler. Também, você certamente tem mais domínio de sua língua materna, o que pode gerar um uso mais interessante da palavra na sua história.)

 

[Sauron_Body]

Obrigado pela longa crítica Largo!
Estou agora TENTANDO passar o texto para o Portugues, e isso, provavelmente, vai causar mais erros de gramatica, mas eu tenho vcs do forum para me corrigir (eu acho).
Acho que fica mais facil se eu postar todos os episodios no mesmo Post, assim nao precisa ficar procurando os mais antigos pelas paginas do CdE.

EDIT: Nao consigo passar para o portugues. Quando eu passo, ele fica sem expressao, sem vida. Fica horrivel. Nao gostaria de submeter os membros do Fórum a algo tao desagradável...
E Largo, nao entendi o que quis dizer com mais datas para quebrar o estilo...
EDIT 2: Ops, desculpa, entendi sim... Nevermind

 

[Largo Cavafundo]

Acho que fica mais facil se eu postar todos os episodios no mesmo Post, assim nao precisa ficar procurando os mais antigos pelas paginas do CdE.

Poste-os no mesmo tópico, sem sombra de dúvidas, mas não no mesmo post. É o que o V falou para eu fazer com minhas histórias.

Depois, vc pode colocar links pra cada um dos pedaços da história na página inicial...


E não se preocupe, nós cuidaremos de te corrigir, criticar, xingar, e tudo o que for preciso

 

[Sauron_Body]

É isso que quis dizer, no mesmo topico, nao no mesmo post...
Fiz cafusão...

 

[Sauron_Body]

(Transformei aquilo num prologo, fiz o Prologo Parte 2, e o Episodio 1)

Prologue Part II: The Other Side

“Cole!” shouted a voice from under an aircraft
“Yes?”
“Could you hand me a screw-driver?”
“Sure” said Cole, diving his hand into the toolbox. Cole was a young pilot who had enlisted himself shortly after New Zealand, his home country, had joined the Sojourners of Truth. He believed in their cause and soon was put into their Air Force for obvious reasons. Cole was tall, obedient and fierceful. All the qualities of a good pilot. As he handed the screw-driver to the mechanic, his long brown hair shuffled in the evening wind coming through the hangar door.
“Don’t you ever do this again” said the mechanic, fixing Cole’s ship, which had an enormous breach in its wing and its front. “I don’t wanna have to skip my dinner to fix another rookie’s ship”
“Ok, ok! Sargeant Kaleidoscopos already told me that”
“Kaleisduspacospos... Kalusdacosp... whatever his name is, he’s not rough on his pilots. I’m the one humiliating”
“Alright! You finished?” said Cole, impatiently.
“Are you blind? Can’t you see the gargantuan hole you put on your ship? Give me the bigger screw-driver”
“I did it with the best intentions” Cole responded, handing out the tool.
“Blah blah blah! That’s what they always tell.” Said the mechanic, with a grim look on his face “Shit, we’re gonna have to find you another ship. This time it’ll be the worst we have here, so that if this happens again you’ll blow up instead of giving me extra hours”
Cole walked out with his self-esteem bordering rock bottom. He went to his room and fell asleep. He dreamed. He dreamed of him being a Commander of Honor, leading several squadrons into battle, taking all decisions and plotting all courses. He recalled what happened this morning. He was with his flank of the squadron, patrolling the borders of the Shield. He observed below as two children ran from the woods into the road and entering the city. He asked permission to see what was happaning and was denied. At that moment, two Defenders came up, shooting the squadron. One missile had been shot and missed his target, and took a new target: the children. Cole dived and took the missiles in his own wing and surviving for an obscure reason. Maybe God wanted more from him, he wondered in his dream. He saved citizens from unwanted casualty. He deserved a medal, not junk. The rest of his sleep was dreamless.

He woke up the next day with an alarm. He watched through his unclosed door that pilots were rushing to their ships. Se looked at a clock. Six pedants to Sunrise. After the War, time was left behind an a new clock was developed and the day was divided into four parts: Sunrise, Sunrest, Moonrise, Moonrest. Those were then divided into twelve pedants each (Six pedants to Sunrise roughly means 4:30 in the morning). Why were they getting up so early?
“EMERGENCY! CITY IN INVASION. ALL PILOTS TO THEIR AIRCRAFT” said a voice in the speaker.
Cole rushed to his locker only to realize he had slept with his pilot clothes. He then rushed towards his ship only to realize again that he did not have one.
This time, he realized that his dream hadn’t come true.



Episode I: Stand or Fall

Paul woke up the next morning with the morning sun shining on his pale skin. It was three pedants past Sunrise, the usual time pilots always woke up. Pilot life was basically simple, except from when it was difficult. They woke up, ate breakfast, went for a walk around the Military Center, used their skill on the simulator and took shifts on patrolling various borders. Rarely, on Paul’s squadron, a mission was assigned. But because his squadron wasn’t much of an important one, they usually got lesser missions, like protecting, escorting and supervising. Their last mission was to escort a prisioner ship through International lands. The best squadron of the Defenders was called Windsailor Squadron, and all others envied them. Even though, Paul was confident some day he would occupy greater positions. He was still a Lieutenant, there was plenty of road in the way.
As he took his morning shower he recalled his times of Pilot and Sargeant. He graduated to Lieutenant for his excellence in a failed mission of invading a tactical city from the Sojourners. He received a medal and became the leader of his current Squadron. Once you became a leader of a squadron, you would not leave it unless you fell or retired. He was eager to become a Captain someday. He was heading to the cafeteria when he heard a call in the speaker that they wanted him in the Commander’s office. He went down.
“Lieutenant Paul Lockwood” said the Commander, as Paul entered the room. He was a firm man. Tall, no hair in his head and a gaze that could pierce your soul. He had lost one of his hands in battle and had a mechanic hand replacing it. He was standing next to his chair and then sat down when the Lieutenant came in.
“Commander” responded Paul, politely.
“Sit down”
“Yes sir”
After a long sigh, the Commander spoke
“I see you are becoming quite a pilot these days. Is that right? Even if you are assigned to lesser missions, you have become quite an ace, I would say.”
“Thank you, sir” responded Paul, flattered.
“So, I have decided to take you in a better mission to see your true potential” the Commander said, standing and walking to his window. “Your mission is to command an assault to the Military Base of the Sojourners in Oslo, Norway. You are going today with your squadron to London. Is that correct?”
“Yes sir. Thank you, I’m flattered”
“You should be” said the Commander “If you accomplish the mission, I will upgrade you to Captain, and your wingmen will be Sargeants. Is that undesrtood?”
“Yes sir!” responded a trembling Paul
“You MUST destroy that base. Many casualties have put us down. Your squadron will command five other squadrons into battle. Be aware that those squadrons are rookies, though” the Commander added in disdain.
“But wouldn’t it be odd to see a lieutenant cammanding a fellow lieutenant, sir?” asked Paul
“Pertinent question. That is why, for them, you are already a Captain. If you win, then you’ll be officially upgraded with a ceremony and so forth and all that.”
The Commander sit on his chair again.
“What are you waiting for? Your ship leaves in one pedant! Hurry!”
“Yes sir! Thank you sir!”
And Paul left. He hurried through the hall and ran into his squad mates.
“Lieutenant! I heard that you were called to the Office! What happened?” asked Wu. Wu Sung Li was an excellent pilot from China. She had been captured by smugglers when the third Wrath of God bomb destroyed what was left of Japan. She was sent to Mexico and when freed, enlisted herself with the Defenders almost immediately. She had unusual darker skin than average chinese and a slightly blonde brown hair. She was still learning English, but could get around.
“No, not Lieutenant! Captain! And we are assigned to lead five squadrons in a special mission! Can you believe that?” said Paul.
“You’re kidding, Captain!” joked Neil.
“And we must hurry! The ship to London leaves in three quarters of a pedant!”
And they were off in a hurry.
The trip didn’t take very long. About two pedants from their base in Dakar to London. Once they got there, they went directly to the Mission room. It was a whole new place, so much bigger than their other base. Even though Dakar was one of the most important bases of the Defenders, the one in London was much bigger.
“Welcome pilots” said Paul, the leader of the mission, after receiving and reading the mission files and briefing. “This is no simple mission. During this operation, know as Operation Vendetta, you will overtake a city. It is not simple. It takes courage and determination. You must be aware of the possible casualties and the chances of being captured by the enemy, but always remember: you are fighting for a greater cause.”
All the pilots shivered with that last sentences. That mission would judge them: the ones who weren’t made for the job, would fall. The ones who were, would live. It was stand or fall. Most of them believed they fit in the “fall” category.
“The objective is simple” continued Paul “Wedge Squadron will escort Rushfire and Bullseye Squadrons as they destroy the city’s defenses. Watergate Squadron will fight off possible fighters on the air, while Zebra Squadron will destroy strategic targets so that the overtake can be possible. You are ALL essential.”
At that time they were all given instructions and maps of the city they were going to invade. They retreated and started to arrange their ships. Given some pedants and they were on the air. Five squadrons under the command of Paul, who was now a little shaken by the newborn power given to him. There was no talk over the radio while they travelled.
After some time, they finally got to Oslo. By the time they were picked up by the city’s radars, the emergency alarms went out. The anti-air guns on the ground started to fire, and some of the most inexperienced fighters fell. After that, the Sojourner aicraft started to appear in small groups.
“Zebra 1, proceed to your first target”
“Yes sir, on your command”
And the squadron broke formation to go to their targets.
“Brake formations. Engage at will” said Paul, and the battle begun.
Right after Paul pulled up, a Sojourner got on his tail. It wasn’t like the simulations. That opponent actually fired upon him. A salve of shots got through past his wings and for a little wedge of luck, they didn’t get to the gas tanks. He couldn’t fall, he was the captain. He quickly zigzagged to avoid fire. He used all his abilities but the Sojourner didn’t seem to get over it. He hit the accelerator and tried to picked other targets and forget the one on his tail. He picked up a squadron beneath him and dived shooting. It took one of them down. His inexperience showed up as he was shaken up and lost the others who were now shooting him down.
“Got three on my tail! I can’t shake ’em!” he finally shouted
“Comin’ for ya, chief!” said Neil
Neil, much more experienced than Paul, shot two of them down. Paul was able to shake the other off. It was a grand melee. All of them dying. Both sides falling. Paul thought for a moment that had no meaning at all. Why fight? Why die? He heard shouts and cries of inexperienced pilots dying over the radio. Wherever he went to help, people were dying by the dozens. He then thought of his objectives.
“We gotta get through this! Wedge Squadron, Bullseye Squadron! Let’s finish this for once!”
“WE HAVE BEEN EXTERMINATED! WE CAN’T STAND THIS!” said a voice over the radio just before a high scream and static.
“Wedge Squadron is gone. This mission is over! Abort mission, Captain!” said the leader of Zebra Squadron.
“No! We have to finish this! Zebra Squadron, come along with Rushfire Squadron!” said Paul
“Yes sir.” Said the Zebra Squad leader, reluctantly.
The remnants of Zebra Squadron formed along Rushfire Squadron. They went to the Sojourner’s base.
“Go for the power generators. Destroy them and we’ll be clear”
They started to try and take out the generators, but more aircraft was coming out of the hangars. They were no match for that. They were the Defenders and couldn’t even defend themselves. More than half of what left London was left now. They tried to destroy the power generators but there were to few of them. The city was now on full alert. Fire was drawn everywhere. The citizens were evacuating to the shelters below ground. This was a city that couldn’t be taken over. Yet, Paul still thought it could. That maybe the biggest mistake of his life, or the biggest bid of luck of his life.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!!!” Neil was shot down. His ship was completely destroyed. Paul watched in horror the smoke from the ground.
“Captain! Abort mission! There are too many of them! Abort mission!”
Yet, Captain seemed to have no response. He was not able to be a Captain. He wasn’t able to save lives. What was all that for?
“CAPTAIN! I WILL SHOOT YOU DOWN AND TAKE COMMAND IF YOU DO NOT ABORT THE MISSION RIGHT NOW!”
“I guess it is fall I choose.” He finally said. “Abort mission. Get out of the city as soon as you can. I repeat: abort mission.”