Newgrounds.com — Everything, By Everyone.

At 1/14/13 02:13 PM, Cuperos wrote:

:Really not helping your case when requesting for a writer when you can't provide all the basic things a third party writer needs to do his job.

Agreed.

PROLOGUE

As I write this, the altimeter reads 15,000 feet. I have just finished packing away my personal journal in a protective metal case, and I feel now is the time to add a small introduction to the history contained within. It is my goodbye to the world, if you will, and a letter to anyone who finds this.

My name is Matt Gerard. I am a resident of the former Sky Colonies, and for the longest time, a fighter for its eventual fate. This is my account of the events leading up to this day, recounting the important details of the places and happenings I observed leading up to this.

The story begins about a couple of centuries ago on The Surface, back when it was still habitable. Us men used to live here, all around the wondrous, plentiful landmasses of the Earth. Even now I wonder what it must have been like for our ancestors, being able to move about a wide, expansive land without having to worry about falling off the edges. But I digress. Apparently, humans were so big in number that we were running out of land and resources for the lot. They came up with âEUoeThe Floating CityâEU in response to this problem, and soon there were multiple cities floating in the sky, complete with their own sustainable resources, inhabitants, governments and economies.

Of course, they weren't supposed to last forever. In time, each one would finally come in for a landing, whereupon there would be a massive resupply and repair operation. This was done even if the colony was well-maintained and made good use of what it had, which most did. Those that didn't soon fell out of the sky, just like this one is now.

What took us all by surprise, including my own parents back then, was the meteorite twenty years ago. It was a big one, seven miles across according to the folklore. It hit The Surface, taking out three of the Colonies with its uplifted rock, and since then until today, and for probably another twenty years after this, polluted the atmosphere with volcanic ash and acid rain.

The seven surviving Colonies had to band together, and even then, it was only a matter of time until we started dropping out of the clouds. In the first five years after the apocalypse, two of them malfunctioned and were overcome by the pull of gravity. The next five saw three more of the Colonies meet the same fate.

I was born on one of the last two about five years after the apocalypse. When I was fifteen, I was among about five hundred of us who managed to evacuate the place when it too sank beneath the ash in the sky. We did manage to arrive aboard the last city, called âEUoeAtmoraâEU, whose government had allowed us space to move into.

It was from there that things turned sour. But that's the story of my journal, whose earliest entries date back to when things really went downhill, several years after I had arrived aboard Atmora and made my new life here.

As I write these closing sentences, the altimeter is at 5,000 feet and rapidly sinking. But I do not care at this point. I am prepared for my death. Recording this history has finally put me at a peace I haven't had for some time. Even though I can barely see the paper through the ash I'm also suffocating on, my hands continue to add to this missive from a doomed man.

This is to go inside the journal case. May it survive the crash...

You've got a voice actor (for the male cast), and I could try my hand at writing an episode.