Test Drive Meme

[etcircenses]

Welcome new Tributes!

The Capitol has gathered a good crop of you at once, and to help morale, and to ease you into Capitol society they are throwing a banquet, just for those who work with the Games. Stylists, Escorts, mentors, a few of the Capitol elite, and of course, you all, the Tributes.

Instead of waking up in the normal way, new Tributes awake in lush beds, in a very posh ski lodge. Elegant but simple clothes are laid out for them, in a warm grey, and a note to come down as soon as they are ready. And if they linger too long, a peacekeeper appears to escort them down.

Those from the Capitol, are brought in on chartered party buses, one for each District, which are about as posh as a bus can get. It's a roughly 45 minute drive, well out of the Capitol's city limits.

Although the party is "mellow" by Capitol standards, it is still pretty damn extravagant. Alcohol flows freely, and banquet tables are kept fully stocked by silent avoxes. The whole ski lodge has been cleared out, and guest can hit up an ice skating rink, or pick out a swim suit and jumped into the huge, natural hot springs tubs.

As the night drags on, however, all does not go as planned. Half way through the night, there is a tremendous roar, and the hotel is plunged into pitch blackness. There is chaos for roughly 10 minutes, till low power emergency lights flicker on. However the generators don't have the power to keep the heater going.

A first aid station is set up, and the avoxes start pulling in blankets to the main lobby, lighting a fire in the fireplace and doing what they can to keep everyone warm. It is quickly communicated that there was an avalanche, and although the hotel remains in good shape, the power and the road to the Capitol has been cut out.

It's going to be a long night.


OOC INFORMATION

Welcome to the test drive meme for thegames!

We are both a jamjar and a Hunger Games AU character game. You can choose to either have your character ported in from their world or AU them into Panem. Detailed knowledge of the Hunger Games is not required. We accept just about any character and character type that we can work into the world, including AUs, OCs, and up to 3 multiples (however, each versions of a character must be significantly different from the others.)

All the information you need can be found in this post, which can always be found at the top of the mod account. And if you don't find something you need, the FAQ is here, so drop us a line!

Welcome, and may the odds be ever in your favor!

Comments

Blackout.

[etcircenses]

Specific your location in thread heading.

Carlos the scientist | Welcome to Night Vale | hallway

[youbarium]

[Not good. This is not good. Carlos, still very much on-edge thanks to this unexplained phenomenon that he is very certain is going to turn very sinister any moment now, was exploring the hallways when the avalanche hit.

Carlos doesn't panic, though. He's been in worse situations. At least, for the moment. Carlos doesn't know how bad this situation is going to get yet. He pulls out a small flashlight that he always keeps in the pocket of his lab coat (next to a tape recorder and a spare, sterile container for samples -- you know, things no self-respecting scientist would ever be caught without) and shines it around the hall.]

Hello? Is anyone there?

[gruesome]

[Some would be enjoying the blackout, if he weren't painfully aware of all the ice and snow outside. It's the first time in a long time he's been able to shed his usual shawl and hat, open all eight eyes and see clearly. And his fine black fur makes him practically invisible.

Well, until someone shines a penlight at him. He hisses involuntarily, holding up a skinny, six-fingered hand to shield his face.]

Yes, please, put that away from me.

[youbarium]

[Carlos does not scream or shout, but he does gasp, and there's apprehension on his face.]

Oh my god.

[It's breathed, reflexive, barely more than a whisper. Carlos has seen terrifying things in his time and knows that it's usually best to run from the monsters.

...but the monsters don't usually talk.. Not when they're planning to kill you immediately, anyway. Carlos's breath comes fast, but he stands his ground. He doesn't put the light away, though. Just because this thing might be reasonable doesn't mean Carlos is safe in the dark with it.

Cautiously:]

...who are you? What are you?

[He hopes he can reason with it. Usually, creatures this inhuman aren't exactly interested in talking.]

[gruesome]

[Some sighs, squinting shut his largest pair of eyes, but he still can see very little past the dazzle of white light. His grimace bares teeth in two mouths, though he means nothing aggressive by it.]

Some, my name is Some ovMennet. Now we are introduced, can you please turn that away? It is painful.

[youbarium]

[Carlos reluctantly complies, at least partially. He keeps the flashlight on Some, but shines it down at the creature's legs, away from its face.

Its four spindly, furry legs.

Scientific curiosity is definitely getting the better of horror here.]

Sorry. Is this better?

[Carlos begins to approach Some, slowly. He wants a closer look.]

[gruesome]

Yes, it's much better, thank you.

[Some stays put, rubbing a hand over his face, his eyes, and watched him approach. Usually, the ones who start out alarmed don't approach.]

I am sorry for the snap. My kind are from caverns. There is no light there.

[youbarium]

[Carlos is attempting to mentally categorize Some and is finding it difficult. There are normal humans that react normally to the supernatural, like himself and his scientists. There are human residents of Night Vale, who are normal except for their unquestioning acceptance of the bizarre, like Marcus Vansten. There are inhuman residents of Night Vale, like the City Council, who can be spoken to and even reasoned with to a degree but who sometimes break into screams and chittering and are not sane by any normal standard. Then there are the sentient phenomena, like stone spires, that speak but whose motives cannot be comprehended. Finally, there are the monsters. You don't stick around long enough to find out if those can talk.

Honestly, Carlos is reminded most of the angels. Clearly inhuman, rather monstrous, but polite enough. He doesn't consider himself safe around Some, but at least Some is apparently reasonable.

When he gets close enough, Carlos begins to circle around Some, trying to get a better look.]

Does your kind have a name?

Cecil Palmer | Welcome to Night Vale (Capitol AU) | banquet hall

[void_whereprohibited]

Cecil first notices the roar when it becomes loud enough to drown him out. He's in animated conversation with someone-- caught in the middle of some expansive gesture-- when he realizes the extent to which having to shout over the train-passing-overhead level of noise is taking the nuance out of his point.

He frowns; opens his mouth to shout ("Was this planned?"); and is left blinking in the sudden plunge into blackness. His original point is replaced with a surprised "...oh."

...Well. Someone's got to take control of the situation. His ears are ringing in the startled silence, which he knows must come seconds before the inevitable chaos. Time is short.

"Listeners!" he begins, and quickly amends that to, "...That is-- fellow guests. I implore you: Do not panic! Remain calm."

He has no idea who's listening, if anyone; he can't even tell what's happened to the circle of people he was standing in. They're just their voices now, and their voices are silent; until the lights come back on, he thinks, they will all exist only in the act of being heard. (...Cecil hopes more fervently, following on the heels of that thought, that someone was listening.)

[youbarium]

It's been several minutes since the blackout began, and Carlos has finally made his way back to the banquet hall. From here, he can ask someone where the generators are. They must have a backup source of power, and although Carlos is no electrician, perhaps he can science it back into working order.

But as he steps inside, shining his flashlight around at the assembled, panicky crowd, over the low muttering and frightened whispers, Carlos hears a voice. More specifically, a Voice.

That's Cecil, he thinks, eyes widening. His pulse picks up, but that's just because he's relieved to hear a familiar voice in an unfamiliar place, and also because dealing with Cecil is always a headache and a half. He must have arrived the same way I did -- whatever that was, I don't know. But I have to find him. He'll probably have answers.

Carlos begins to make his way toward the crowd, muttering -- "Excuse me, sorry, could you let me through please, thank you" -- and shining his flashlight in people's faces as he searches. Maybe Cecil will know more about how they got here, and why.

[void_whereprohibited]

A few minutes into the blackout, Cecil's still talking. He isn't sure if it's having any real positive effect - no one's really replying - but it certainly isn't hurting, and it makes him feel his own existence more acutely, and so he continues.

At first, the beam of the flashlight on the other side of the room is a welcome sight - worth interrupting the third in his running list of possible causes of the blackout for. "Well," he says warmly to his invisible audience as it approaches, "It looks like someone here came prepared! I'm sure we'll all be looking back on this with fond - though slightly nervous - laughter in just a few-- hey."

The smile he had prepared for their rescuer vanishes as the beam of the flashlight catches him full in the face. He flinches, putting a hand up between himself and the glare of the light-- he can't even tell who's holding it through the bright spots now taking up most of his vision (though he's pretty sure no one he knows would be that inconsiderate).

"Uh," he says, and feels a spike of irritation-- he can't remember where that last sentence was going. He's been thoroughly interrupted. "You know, we're all already blind here, friend-- so could you maybe...?"

[youbarium]

"Cecil?"

It is him, Carlos is certain of it. Carlos opens his mouth to barrage Cecil with questions, then realizes that yes, he's probably blinding Cecil horribly by shining the light directly in his face.

"Sorry," he says, dropping the light down to Cecil's chest, where it'd illuminate Cecil's face but wouldn't hurt his eyes. "I wasn't sure it was you at first. Cecil, what are you doing here? What are we doing here?"

He is still completely unaware that anything is amiss. Of course Cecil didn't recognize him as Carlos approached; Carlos was impossible to see in the dark and hadn't spoken yet. He is braced for awkward advances, though, and is completely ready to deflect them with important questions.

[void_whereprohibited]

Oh, great. Minor local celebrity does come with its drawbacks; one of them, quite familiar to him, is people's tendency to forget that just because they spend an hour listening to him every week doesn't mean that he has any idea who they are. Ordinarily, Cecil's quite happy to meet a fan, but given the circumstances - and the spots he's still trying to blink out of his field of vision - the assault by someone who isn't actually here to help just makes this entire situation more irritating.

...And the utterly nonsensical questions certainly aren't helping the stranger's case. Seriously, there is nothing productive going on here.

"Well," Cecil says, and makes no effort to disguise his annoyance. "I, personally, am waiting for the lights to come back on, so that I can continue to enjoy a party that I traveled quite a distance to attend and was, until recently, very much enjoying! In fact, I would hazard a guess that we're in more or less the same boat, here." With the beam of the flashlight to direct his gaze, he levels a look at the spot the stranger is almost definitely standing. "But, I would hate to jump to conclusions." Since I have no idea who you are is heavily, heavily implied.

[youbarium]

...that...is not what Carlos had expected. It's not Cecil's enjoyment of the party that surprises Carlos, no: he'd be very surprised if Cecil were fazed at all by being transported to a place as apparently pleasant as this. Cecil would enjoy a party he'd been transported to with no explanation.

It's the unfamiliarity that gets him. The hostility completely pulls the rug out from under what Carlos was planning to say. He gapes for a moment.

"Cecil, it's me. Carlos. ...the scientist?" he adds, with more desperation than hope. If Cecil is here but doesn't recognize Carlos, that brings up a whole new set of questions. "We worked together in Night Vale. For nearly a year, Cecil." Okay, so maybe 'worked together' was an exaggeration, but Cecil certainly seemed to think they were closer than they were.

Carlos begins to worry that, perhaps, re-education is the reason why Cecil doesn't recognize him. Has Cecil committed a crime of some kind? Something that would cause the despotic and futuristic law enforcement of Night Vale to drastically alter his memories?

[void_whereprohibited]

Cecil frowns. "I'm... not acquainted with any scientists, so far as I know." He meets a lot of people in his line of work, and he gives the statement a moment's legitimate thought-- but no one he can call to mind matches Carlos's description of their relationship. He's pretty sure he'd remember working with someone for a year, especially someone who so clearly knows who he is.

Ugh. This is so awkward. Were the lights up, he'd already be preparing an excuse to get out of the same room as this guy, but in the dark, no excuse is going to make ducking out of this conversation look anything but rude.

"...Look," he says. "I'm not going to say we haven't worked together - many things are possible, after all, and our own memories can be as capricious in changing our perceptions as any official Capitol defense ministry interrogator - but I think you're going to have to explain yourself a little more clearly. I certainly don't work in any scientific field-- as far as I know, I've always worked for Celebrus Entertainment's Hunger Games publicity department. And while its various branches have many nicknames among its staff-- fond and otherwise-- Night Vale isn't one I recognize."

He's polite, but firm. Maybe if the stranger realizes his mistake, he'll get embarrassed and leave on his own.

Sherlock Holmes | Elementary | Hallways

[costing]

The blackout provides something, finally, of interest. The hours before that had revealed little to Sherlock, and in an attempt to mitigate his frustration he had retreated further and further into boredom. He had no desire to speak to a dozen other people who were in exactly the same situation as he was; he really doubted they’d be interesting or useful. A decision made after only cursory observation, but he decided to trust it all the same.

So when the blackout hits, he’s ready for action. He weaves himself around the panicked bodies in the banquet hall, ending up in the halls. Sherlock hugs the walls, trying to get a better sense of the place. Unfortunately, he’s rather caught up in what he’s doing, and at some point is bound to stop paying attention to any motion coming towards him.

“Honestly. Doesn’t anyone listen to where they’re going?”

[formersurgeon]

Joan's first thought when the lights go out is to find Sherlock and John. They're in the darkness, and there's no power, which probably means that the cameras that watch them everywhere 24/7 are most likely useless. It might be an opportunity, and Joan doesn't want to let it go.

She hasn't seen the detective and his Watson in the main areas, though, so she makes her way into the halls to try to find their rooms. She's aware that there's someone in the hall ahead - she can hear them move, hear them breathe.

Then she hears him speak. And stops dead. Stops breathing.

No.

"...Sherlock?"

[costing]

He's decidedly less surprised by her presence that she is by his. (Of course, he has no reason to be otherwise.) So he straightens up, takes a step back, and starts off speaking very fast. "Watson--it's about time. I was sure we'd already been over the virtues of punctuality."

[formersurgeon]

...yeah, it's him. She rolls her eyes in the dark.

"Punctuality," she repeats. "Clearly you have no idea where you are or what's going on. And considering I've been here for seven months, you're the one who's been less than punctual."

[costing]

Well, yes. He does have no idea what's going on, but she doesn't have to call him out on it. That's just adding salt to the wound, really. The seven months part of her statement is more startling, and Sherlock finds himself wishing the lights would come back on. Voices don't age, not the same way faces and expressions do-- not as noticeably, not as quickly. He wants verification, really wants answers, and most of all doesn't want to believe what she's said is true.

So he goes for the simplest answer. "It's a panopticon. Quite obviously, actually."

[formersurgeon]

She's taken aback by that for a moment. He's not wrong, if you consider the Capitol to be the watchtower in the middle of a panopticon. Certainly it would have the same effect, constant surveillance wearing down on the observed.

"Basically." She frowns, something occurring to her. He hasn't been acting like she's been gone. "Wait...have I been missing?"

Harry Potter || Post-canon || Banquet hall

[boyfromthecupboard]

"Lumos. Lumos? Hell." He can't always manage that spell wandless, like Hermione can, but he'd hoped it would cooperate this time. When he found who had taken his wand...

"Who's here?" he asked of the dark nearby.

Tyler Durden | Fight Club | Hallways

[paperstreetsoap]

Ah! Shit.

[There's a bang in the hallway, probably a small crash if one listened enough or was close by to hear the man stubbing his toe and hitting a wall when the world plunged into darkness.

Tyler looked up and down the hall, not seeing anything but the dark. Great, a power outage... Cool.]

Well, now it's a party!

[He pushes off of the wall, making his place well known from his voice and laugh, before he inches down the hall quietly with the hopes of accidentally running into a lady or four.]

[improvesmorale]

[He crashes into someone's shoulder, disoriented by the dark.

Even in the dark, he can recognize Tyler.

This makes sense. One psychotic break after the other. You start hallucinating that you've been taken to a strange new universe where you need to fight to the death, and suddenly all of your old demons are finding you again.]

-- Goddammit.

[He is more resigned than angry. More disappointed than panicked. He presses his fist into his own leg, as though to say wake up, wake up. He still has the scar from where he shot himself in the face.]

[paperstreetsoap]

[He recognizes that voice. He recognizes that shoulder. That breathing. That air of complete and utter annoyance.]

Dude. [He quietly chuckles.] I thought I lost you. Now that would have sucked.