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Author Topic: My Steampunk Story  (Read 635 times)
EnigmaEngine
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« on: June 21, 2013, 10:36:41 pm »

I am currently working on a steampunk story called The Enigma Engine.

(I am taking some inspiration from Journey to the Center of the Earth and Castle in the Sky but decidedly putting my own spin on it.)


On the eve of the activation of the world's first electrical powered engine, a mysterious explosion of energy tears through the world, destroying all traces of the electricity, and leaving it in ruins. Very soon after that a toxic fog begins to cover the earth and anyone who is exposed to it too long develops an illness known as Rust Sickness.

Armentiers Steam Co. headed by Baron Issac Le Bret Armentiers, is one of the few factories left that produce highly efficient steam-powered engines. They quickly rise to the top and take control of all the steamworks.

Now in the aftermath, a post-apocalyptic world emerges from the clouds that uses steam-powered engines and clockwork machines.

Enter Genevieve Malvern, a young woman with an extraordinary secret and her trusty automaton servant, Bartholomew. She receives a cryptic letter from her deceased father along with a curious little metal box.

Now in a race against time to reverse the spread of the toxic fog, she hires the help of one man...Henry Edwin Steele III, a rough and tough treasure hunter, to locate a Dr. James Percival Noonan that can help to complete her deceased father's work...

...and decipher the puzzle behind The Enigma Engine.



(Basically in my world everyone has automaton servants, but Genevieve's is more advanced than others.)


So what do you think? Does it have potential?

I do of course have the first chapter done, if anyone want to read it?
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CPT_J_Percell
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The werewolf Airship Captain.


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« Reply #1 on: June 22, 2013, 08:45:58 am »

Intriguing, cant wait to read more.
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I suffer from a random misfiring synapse and a bad case of wolfen the turns me into a seven-foot-tall werewolf or a seven-foot great wolf!
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The Corsair
Defective Inspector
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PixieOnTheMic
« Reply #2 on: June 22, 2013, 10:17:56 am »

If someone described a book to me this way and showed me to a bookstore I'd buy it, hands down.
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I think I should also mention I had a dream about this game, only Bailey was a woman...

I assure you, that incident in Singapore was all a misunderstanding.
The Corsair
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PixieOnTheMic
« Reply #3 on: June 22, 2013, 10:18:26 am »

The book, I mean, not the whole shop
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EnigmaEngine
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United States United States


« Reply #4 on: June 22, 2013, 01:31:01 pm »

Here is what I have for the first chapter...

A waterfall cascade of chiming bells broke through the silence of the foyer when the light streaming in from the window was suddenly blocked by a shadow outside.

"I've got it, Barty!" A feminine voice called out.

Small footsteps could be heard approaching fast, belonging to a young woman wearing a long highwaisted tan skirt. Her long white sleeves were rolled up and fastened above her elbows with small leather belts. Her face was smudged and she was wiping her hands on a oil-stained rag as she moved closer.

By the time she opened the door, the shadow was long gone, only a square, brown package left behind.

She stood there staring at the box, sitting so still and patient in front of her.

She leaned out the door and looked both ways down the street, hoping to catch a glimpse of the one who left it there, but her efforts were in vain, the street was empty.

A whirring of gears and creaking of metal joints behind her made her turn.

"Do you require assist-t-tence, M-m-misss?" A male voice asked, a metallic and harsh hum to it.

She smiled and nodded her head.

"Yes, Barty. Can you please take the box into my father's study."

Bartholomew nodded sharply in turn. "Very well m-m-missss."

With a hiss of steam and a creak of joints, the manservant bent down, and picked the box up effortlesly. More steam was released and the whirring of gears filled the air as the automaton turned and carried the box down the hall.

She gently shut the door closed behind her and as she retreated from the hallway, her hand flipped a lever and clicking could be heard as tumblers moved into place, effectively locking the front door. She followed Bartholomew into her Father's study, where she watched him set the box onto the desk with a thump.

He turned to her with a click and a pop.

"Will t-that be all, m-m-misss?"

She nodded. "Yes, that will be all Barty."

"Yesss, m-m-misss. I will get-t your t-tea, then m-m-misss."

As the automaton began to march out of the room, she stopped him. "Oh, Barty, I forgot! Set a reminder for me. We need to oil your vocal gears again. They are a bit dry. They seem to be getting stuck on the S's, M's and T's again."

As soon as she finished speaking, Barty straightened, and flipped a small switch, and with a whir and a clank, his chest flipped open to reveal a small type-writer.

"Two, four, or eight hours, M-m-misss?"

"Two hours should be sufficient. Thank you, Barty."

A series of clicks and clacks filled the room as Barty typed the information.

'Current Time: 8:16 pm. Reminder: Two hours from current time: 10:16pm--oil vocal gears.'

The clicking stopped and was quickly followed by the ding of a bell echoing in the spacious study. He folded the small typewriter back up and flipped a small switch, securing it back into place."

"Reminder set-t, M-m-misss."

The door closed behind him with a click and the young woman was left alone with the box.

She stood there, one hand on her hip, fingers tapping against her lips, pondering what the plain brown paper and twine concealed beneath.

"Now who sent you, you curious little thing?"

She shrugged, dropping her hands.

"Well, no sense standing here dawdling talking to it, Gen. Let's see what you're hiding, if anything at all."

She gently grabbed one end of the twine and tugged, letting it drop to the desktop, as she slowly and methodically unwrapped the package.

When the contents were revealed, she gasped.

It was a beautiful metal box.

The box was crafted completely of tightly twisted and woven strips of silver accented with copper and inlaid with several tiny gems. Thinking it was a music box, she looked it over and found that there was no crank, neither was there a seam for a lid, or a keyhole to unlock.

"How strange."

When she picked it up, she found that it had been sitting on top of a white envelope. She swallowed hard.

Her hands were shaking as she picked up the envelope and flipped it over to look at the front.

She gasped.

It was addressed to her.

In her father's handwriting.

She immediately yelled for Bartholomew.

When he arrived with a hiss and a grind, she showed the letter to him.

"I found this letter inside underneath that box there. What do you think?"

"I do not-t know, M-m-misss, perhaps you could read t-the lett-tter firs-s-t-t?"

She huffed, rolling her eyes, and mumbling under her breath something about know-it-all before ripping the letter open. She scanned it quickly before reading it aloud.

'My Dearest Genevieve,

First and foremost, I would like to tell you that I am deeply sorry because If you are reading this than events I had feared to happen have transpired and I am no longer a member of the living. My dear, too long have I hidden the truth from you, but no longer I say. I will go to my God with no regrets chaining me.

I am not your real father.

Three days after The Great Calamity, I lost my Beloved wife to Rust Sickness, not in childbirth as I have told you. Me and my wife had wanted a child so much that even after her death I wanted something to remind me of her. That is where you come in, my dearest Genevieve.

It is said that the best inventions come from the most tortured of minds and my mind was very much on the brink of madness. Please understand that what I have done, I have not done in the name of science, but in the name of Love.

Remember that above all else.

I must now ask you to find a Dr. James Percivel Noonan and hand him this letter along with the accompanying box. When you do, he will explain everything in length. It is now up to you and Dr. Noonan, my life's work must be completed or I fear that the fate of the world will be quite dire indeed.

Godspeed, my dear.

With fullest heart and deepest regret,
Your Father, Prof. Lazarus A. Malven'

"Barty?" She said still looking at the letter, before pressing it to her chest with both hands, and bowing her head over it.

The automaton straightened at her voice.

"Yes-s, Misss?"

"Ready the carriage."

She looked up and smiled softly.

"We have a job to do and I fear, from the contents of this letter, not nearly enough time in which to do it."
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