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Greek Phalanx
14th May 2005, 01:57
Guys I got an idea btw. Would' be cool to write stories about Imperial Glory........ so, what do you guys think?

One of my favourite ones is Sharpe's Eagle... written by Bernard Cornwell...

If you want accept it or want it, I can surely write texts... I've already written good ones to Rome Total War... I've made my proves, and I'd like to show my stories of Imperial Glory... (I gotta make a looooooong one in several parts for you guys if you want to).

So, any ideas, comments, approbations, grins, negative or positive points with my idea?

Of course, other people could write their own story, but in their own thread. Or, a new rubric could be made for this, like they did in Rome Total War. Which I think won't please everyone. My idea is that we could make stories in DIFFERENT posts in this thread. Each author would continue and edit his own post.

So, comments? :cool:

(type name here)
14th May 2005, 02:12
Can you give us a sample as to what are you talking about?

Czar
14th May 2005, 02:35
AARs?

(After Action Reports)

A lot of sites do them. Players write the story of their games.
Some write from the point of view of a General, Political Leader, Officer, Newspaper Reporter or even a soldier of the line.

Writing styles vary from purely Technical to Comedy.

A lot of people like to read them - and they can be a good source of game hints too. :)

Greek Phalanx
14th May 2005, 13:37
well, I give you guys 2 examples of stories I've made for Rome Total War. Looks more like a story..... not aars.....

http://p223.ezboard.com/fshoguntotalwarfrm50.showMessage?topicID=4.topic

http://p223.ezboard.com/fshoguntotalwarfrm50.showMessage?topicID=6.topic

will look more like that. So, can I start writing my story for u guys?

fat_man
14th May 2005, 15:59
go why not

Greek Phalanx
14th May 2005, 17:11
k it's really simple. The plan at the beginning is to make a story. But, probably I'll collaborate with one of my friends to do the text. So it'll take a bit more time. Our ideas will be revealed today or tomorrow..... we need to brainstorm and to create......

(type name here)
14th May 2005, 17:39
cool :cool:

Greek Phalanx
15th May 2005, 12:51
Picture of the 35th Regiment of Riflemen (http://www.imagedump.com/index.cgi?pick=get&tp=250395)


Chapter 1
The sergeant Pierre Dufresne was slowly walking in the streets of Venice, recently conquered by Napoleon’s forces, with his regiment, the 35th regiment of Riflemen of the 3rd Brigade under General Louis Morelle’s command. The 80 riflemen were free men from Toulouse. Pierre was a proud Frenchman, but he wasn’t a really skilled rifleman. Pierre was a tall and slim man, a tough guy anyway. He wasn’t as stoic as Jack Hamilton, his English cousin. They were both in the same regiment because Jack was banned from England, caught robbing a bread store. Jack was a strong man… a real colossus we could even say. He looked like a sadism-lover, but he was just a man of action. Pierre was more a cultured man… a man of strategy, his nose always hidden between some dirty yellow pages of some old History book. Yes, Pierre knew how to read. Not like his cousin Jack. Jack was an illiterate. He used to work in mines, deep in the earth. Before the war was declared between France and England, he worked in an iron mine. He lived through rough and hard conditions that life brought his way. He wasn’t really talkative, even if he knew how to piss off his superiors. The Corporal Hamilton used to be a man who had a lot of authority. Pierre had curly blond hair, and Jack had straight brown hair.

The regiment was walking on a bridge. The cool dark waters of Venice’s lagoon brought a delicate smell of the Mediterranean Sea. Pierre had been walking for a whole month to reach Venice. His regiment was sent with Louis Morelle’s 3rd brigades to Egypt to help regaining the money lost with the years of war between France and the rest of Europe. France had a great military power: volunteers. Volunteers had a great advantage over conscripts: they wanted to fight for their country. They’d even die for it. All of this was a simple matter of psychology. Napoleon succeeded to make bandits and peasants good soldiers. The people of France were brave ones, after all. Some say that France wanted to take its revenge over Britain… thinking about the Hundred Years war. Some say that it’s only a common hate between two different kinds of people. Back on Pierre, now.

The Captain raised his sword and said sternly: “Soldats, halte! Quartiers libres. Profitez-en!” The soldiers stopped, knowing that now they had at last a bit of free time. Some would spend their month of salary in a bar, others would try to desert, and some would help the sailors to prepare the ships going to Egypt. But, the regiment simply unpacked their packs they were carrying since so much time. Some were writing letters to their families, others were playing cards and gambling their monthly payment, others were looking at portraits of their family. Others, like Jack, were cleaning their uniform from all the dust on the Italian roads. The blue on Jack’s uniform was fading bit by bit… At least, his uniform wouldn’t turn red… Never. Pierre was playing cards with his compatriots and gambling. His favourite activity was to gamble. He won more times than he lost, due to his incredible luck. He didn’t have any real talent to play cards, he just had a lot of luck and a great sense of deduction. No one could bluff without making Pierre grin. But, this time, Pierre seemed more nervous than usual. He lost three games in a row, but it wasn’t what was stressing him. Pierre was probably the most stressed man of all the company. When he was angry, he could turn as red as an English uniform, confusing their friends, asking themselves if they should shoot him. With the men of the 35th Regiment of Riflemen, a common reflex was to aim their musket instantly at whatever had a tint of red. Stupid? Not so much. More than half of the Riflemen were suffering of daltonism, which made them a valuable regiment. Night operations were never proposed without mentioning the 35th first. Jack, on his side, was cleaning his rifle, now. He had a great sense of cleanness and neatness. He couldn’t afford to see his uniform with a stain on it. He always had a blue cloth with him. His water in his can (which was patched with a rope) wasn’t important for him… He only wanted to use his water to clean his things. His works in the mines traumatized him, so that’s why he had this exaggerated obsession of neatness. He wasn’t the deadliest shot though. The deadliest shot was Lieutenant Alain. This veteran had been part of several wars, fighting with Voltigeurs (skirmishers), elite riflemen used as snipers on sabotage missions, Grenadier during a battle his army suffered a defeat. Worst of all, he even had taken five bullets without ceasing reloading his rifle. The distinct “cracks” of the rifles were like a usual noise in the life of everyday. Like a lullaby we hear before sleeping when we’re children. Alain never wanted to share the people his family name for unknown reasons. His men simply called him Lieutenant Al’. He was really sociable with pretty much everyone. Unfortunately, he just couldn’t stand his superior, Captain Renaud Châgnon. Renaud Châgnon was one of these “new” soldiers who recently went to the military school. He proved his aptitudes at school, but had too few possibilities to put in practise these so numerous theories. In theory and in the fire of action were two different worlds… In theory, 500 British infantrymen couldn’t beat 800 French infantrymen… During a battle, the 500 British had a great advantage over the 800 soldiers… They were experienced. Of the 800 Frenchmen, 200 or 300 of these men have already seen war. The rest was there to make the column look more impressive. That’s one thing they don’t teach you in military school.

An hour later, a bell was heard in the “Arsenale”, Venice’s famous naval yard. At the peak of her power, Venice was able to produce one fully armed ship in just a few hours. And now she belonged to France. The boarding on the ship was announced. Lieutenant Al’ took his rifle on his shoulder, yelled at the drunken soldiers running to the formation. They hurried to get to the formation on time because they knew that their Captain learned that decimation (killing a man out of ten) wasn’t going to bring an officer to the martial court in Louis Morelle’s 3 brigades. Either in theory or in real-time action, this would hurt. A man educated and brainwashed by a military school could be dangerous too, after all! The column advanced at a regular pace, accompanied by the music of flutes and drums. It quickly reached a great ship. The ship was huge, majestic. It was nothing he had ever seen. The ship was rimmed with gold, was equipped with large white sails at the top of the mast, the Venetian flag was waving proudly. Even under French rule, she remained independent. The ship was armed with two floors of cannons, which could devastate any ship in minutes. Pierre crossed the wooden passage and hopped on the ship. The air of the lagoon brought a smell of fresh and pure air. Even if Jack, insensitive as ever, thought the air smelled and was strangling him, reminding him of the horrible smell of the iron mines, Pierre took a deep breath, making Jack release a little disapproving grin. The fleet left the port of Venice. Their destination: Egypt.

The men were chatting, looking at the sea or vomiting in it. Nearly half of the Riflemen spent their whole time vomiting in the sea. The sea doesn’t please the infantryman. The sailors seemed to really like the weather and enjoyed the hot sunrays that warmed them. Days passed without incidents. The watcher, on his time, kept talking with the sailors, not really paying attention at the golden horizon.

But, on the 13th day (what a strange coincidence…), cannons were heard. The air shook, trying to avoid all the noise that the cannons produced. Alain woke up instantly and crouched. A large metal bullet came at 2 inches of his head, crashing on a nearby pile of barrels. Fortunately, the powder was kept 5 meters down. The bell sounded. A flag was seen far away. The commander of the vessel took his instrument looking like an iron tube and said: “Holy God… The damn Union Jack…”

Commisar Adam
15th May 2005, 15:20
Superb writing, especially in detail. I loved your depth. These "stories" as you have called them will include combat, correct? Combat between English and French riflemen would make a riveting tale, no?

Greek Phalanx
15th May 2005, 16:08
I think u got the idea, man!

Love thanks for ur positive comments. Me and my friend appreciate this a lot.

And of course, combat is inclued! ;) :D

[J.E.v.O]
17th May 2005, 12:33
very good....will it be continued?

Greek Phalanx
17th May 2005, 21:03
of course! just my partner and I are havin' soooooooo much exams this week!

lol but of course we'll keep writing. This will probably a weekly update. :D

fat_man
17th May 2005, 23:15
had fun reading it :D


good job!!!!!