Test Drive Meme

[etcircenses]

Welcome to Panem. You have been selected to participate in the 75th Annual Hunger Games!

Premise: This Arena is designed to be a small mock arena not all that dissimilar to the in-game arenas we run here at The Games. The party is similar to some of the gathering logs we have inside the Capitol when an Arena begins. Our hope is to give new and prospective players a place to get their feet wet, and get a feel for the fun (and bloody) mess that goes on around here.

This meme is open to anyone and everyone who would like to play. Current cast members, veteran and new, as well as anyone just wanting top drop in and have some fun!

How To Play.

Current cast members - you may tag into this arena in any way you choose, even cast members who aren't or are no longer tributes.

***An important side note, as it is within the confines of the Area in-game, all powers are lessened/nullified to bring any character down to a vincible level. (I.E. Make more magical/super-powered characters easier to actually kill for a normal person). Rule of thumb: If it's a physical difference, the Capitol will not mutilate it out (wings, etc), but other wise it's gone.

The Arena.

Tributes are raised in a circle around the Cornucopia; they are all dressed in safari outfits, including the little hats, and slathered in bug spray and sunscreen. They look amongst each other at the start of the Cornucopia. At the center of the circle is a fountain where a dancing hippo spits water into a circular pool around it. There's an engraving in embossed letters around the one-foot rim of the pool: PANEM NATIONAL ZOO.

Floating in the water of the brass fountain are supplies that the Tributes should find useful: medical kits, sleeping bags, and most importantly, weapons. Ropes, bo staffs, nunchuks, daggers and spears are all in ready supply a mere hundred yard sprint from the Tributes.

There are four paths away from the Cornucopia - into a swampy pit to the south, which, unbeknownt to Tributes, hosts alligators and crocodiles who've missed their scheduled feeding. To the west, into a dark building where boxes cut into the walls reveal that there were once tanks for creepy crawlies, but the glass has been removed. Through a gift-shop to the north, stuffed with plush animals (many of which are filled with razor blades, or other sweet little surprises). Or down an asphalt pathway to the east, winding through tall cages that may provide shelter from the other Tributes - but not necessarily the enclosure's inhabitants.

The countdown blares out in the humid air.

3...2...1...

Let the Games begin.

-/-

The Party.

Back in the Capitol, the Cornucopia is being celebrated with a lavish party. Animal couture is all the rage, and Capitol celebrities have dressed for the occasion by having their teeth elongated and their irises surgically altered to give the appearance of slit pupils. The wine is flowing freely, and the centerpiece of this particular viewing party is what appears to be a pig the size of a hippopotamus being roasted on a spit.

Screens throughout the large ballroom in which this takes place are showing the gruesome footage of the first bloodbath of what promises to be a delightfully ugly Arena. Tongueless Avoxes carry platters with little quail eggs in cups, silently offering them to all the guests. Caesar Flickerman, trademark blue hair now replaced by what appear to be feathers growing directly from his scalp, announces every gorey detail between oohing and ahhing over the dinner. Tributes die; Citizens feast.

Everyone who's anyone is invited.

Comments

Luna Lovegood / Capitol Bioengineer / Party

[delightfulloony]

Ms. Lovegood was in awe of the splendor of her first fancy Capitol party. She had toiled hard for a number of years now creating and tending to Muttations for the arena and now...perhaps as a joke, she had been invited.

The reasoning was a mystery to her as she was not the most popular scientist in the lab, but perhaps word had spread of her "creative" stories.

Or perhaps, people in the resistance had caught word that she was tired of seeing her biological masterpieces destroyed in the arena and wanted to contact her in a public place.

Either was she was there, with talon boots, a golden dress and beautiful little wings flapping casually on her back with each step. By far the most eye catching feature was her lion headdress.

Finding a comfortable place on the sidelines she sipped a glass of punch and explained to some unfortunate party guest about how the "Mr. Fizz" soda company was sponsoring the universal transportation research because they had mined too deeply out in District 12 and the planet was off balance.

Re: Luna Lovegood / Capitol Bioengineer / Party

[omnicorp]

Most guests try to avoid Ms. Lovegood; politely, of course, but the excuses range from finding the restroom to an emergency wardrobe adjustment.

Raymond Sellars isn't one of those people.

He has a reputation for the unorthodox, even for the Capitol, and while he might not indulge in the latest fashions (he always, always settles for so-comfortable-it's-fashionable-again), he does have a keen ear for business. That keen ear says that he's very interested in what Mr. Fizz is doing and he believes that it's worth the risk of getting his eye poked out by Ms. Lovegood's atrocious lion headdress. Raymond leans away slightly to avoid the lion as he sips at his champagne, privately thinks that this party could have done so much better on the drink selection, and smiles and nods.

"Interesting," Raymond says and means it. "Ms. Lovegood, you really should go into a different business! Consulting, maybe. You'd be incredible. It's a crime they keep you in muttations after all these years."

After the party, Raymond's company OmniCorp will immediately start digging up dirt on Mr. Fizz, edging it out so they can take over sponsorship of the research. Thanks to Ms. Lovegood's tip, he's confident he's got one up on another minor rival.

Siroc | Young Blades (PAX) | Tribute | Arena

[notdavinci]

Honestly, he would have felt much better with a sword. Siroc had never been adept with firearms, making the whole label of musketeer rather ironic, but who was he to question the garrison on a matter of semantics?

...Actually, who wasn't he to do that, when there was time for debate and he was actually within the confines of said Garrison, or at the least, Paris? It was the sort of question he'd have kept Ramon awake for hours debating. Given now that he was far from Paris, had been told he was a slave again, and that he must kill or be killed, it obviously was not the best of places for such ruminations, so he pushed forwards toward the cornucopia, distasteful as the idea of participating in this was.

They could do a damn sight more than beat him here, they could do a damn sight more than ruin his reputation as Mazarin had done, and it was better to just play their game the best he could. If he could not get to a weapon, and, judging the approximate nature of the blood bath, it seemed likely that he could not just now, he may very well manage snagging some of the dropped or scattered supplies to come up with something better. Anything flammable within the medicines, a source of fire and something to mix them in would help, for starters, small projectiles to be added to his bomb would be much better, and, once things were clear, he'd do what he must about forgiveness.

As things stood, both asking, and waiting would be stupid now, and dangerous, so forward was the only option, as much as he loathed the thought.

Bucky Barnes / MCU / Tribute-Arena

[tookthewheel]

The Soldier chooses the path of darkness.

It's familiar, even comforting as much as he can register comfort. He works best in the dark, that is something he knows even if conscious memory of any examples still slip through his fingers. The people here tidied him up, shaved the beard that had grown since the Helicarriers fell, trimmed his hair and dressed him but they are not HYDRA, they are not like HYDRA. HYDRA would not send him out unarmed.

They gave him a mission though. The man who might be James Buchanan Barnes understands the parameters of the mission well enough; kill, kill and survive. It's fitting he was brought here, it's what he's good for. The thought comes with a dry self-mocking humour that had not existed weeks prior. It's discomforting.

He finds a perch in the dark building and waits, a constructed metal shiv in hand, for someone to come. He can be more than patient.

[yourmove]

[OOC: Which flavor of Alex would you be interested in playing off - more human personality to attack or more robotic personality to act as a temporary ally?]

Seras Victoria / Hellsing/ Tribute-arena

[bloodthirsts]

"Oh bollocks!" the Draculina curses as she goes down into the mud. Again.

Of all the places to wind up, of all the paths to choose when she'd lost her powers and was still being thrown off balance by the loss of her left arm, this was the one she'd chosen. A bloody swamp, that was what. This was some kind of horrid joke, now she was soaked through, covered in muck and feeling rather like all the hidden cameras around this arena have a whole city of people laughing at her.

Seras manages to grab a branch and attempt to haul herself back up, biting back on a sniffle. She's fine, she can handle this. She'd come here from from a practical war zone after all, what was a swamp next to sodding Nazis? "This is the stupidest thing, ever."

Re: Seras Victoria / Hellsing/ Tribute-arena

[geez_louise]

"Where's your spirit?!" One would be surprised to see the pink hatted girl choose this route, but after the run in with the creepy crawlies, she gritted her teeth and double backed. That was NOT an imagine she wanted to think about when she finally went to sleep.

"Whoa!" She narrowly misses an alligator, because she read up on this stuff, and the LAST thing she wanted was to be brought underwater by one of those things. "Get back in there and play your horn Disney, no Louise on the menu tonight!"

That was a close one. She was already climbing a tree, breathing hard. "Red eyes? Contacts, or did you burst a few vessels back there?"

Yup. Casual conversation to have in the trees.

Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III | How to Train Your Dragon | Party [cw: talk of nonexistent gore]

[boobhat]

Hiccup knew how to deal with people. Admittedly, he knew how to deal with Vikings, who, while people, could possibly qualify as their own exceedingly hairy subspecies, but village hero, quick wit, mostly comfortable in his own skin (except all the times he wasn't) blah blah blah. It all translated to knowing how to draw people into conversation and keep them there, and there just really wasn't much to these Capitol weirdos.

They enjoyed violence (who didn't? besides, you know, him?) but they just didn't have the decency to be decent about it like the Hairy Hooligans and the other island Viking tribes were. Even when the island Vikings raided another village, the expectation was that they should leave the people they were stealing from in good enough condition for them to be able to try stealing everything back. It was only sporting.

The Capitol people were just Berserkers and Outcasts at heart, or like the crazy Mainland Vikings Hiccup had heard stories about, but without the bravado to endanger themselves for the thrill of the kill. They dressed up their cowardice in diamonds and silk and self-importance instead. It was painfully simple to understand.

Which meant they were painfully easy to manipulate. He was already figuring out how to wrap them around his figure, which was possibly his only chance at long-term survival. Without Toothless he was just a slightly undersized nineteen-year-old with a quick brain and a false leg. (One that, apparently, really did not hold up well in muddier-than-Berk conditions, as the arena had proven, even if it could be used as a bludgeon to knock someone unconscious, as the arena had also proven.)

Any Tribute nearby would be able to hear him work his charms. "- oh yes, you def'nitely know your history, that is exactly what Vikings do to all their prisoners. Except after we pull their lungs out through their flayed-open ribs, that's when we pour salt on them," Hiccup lied conversationally, gesticulating with violent, animated jerks of his hands. "Can't have a good blood eagle without a whole bucket o' salt."

He leaned in conspiratorially, holding a hand up to his mouth as if sharing a secret. "In fact, we have a joke on Berk, that all our prisoners are pickled to see us." The Capitol people he was talking to immediately tittered. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go quell the fires of my inner barbarian rage with a cold drink."

He slipped away, aiming to mingle with any Tributes immediately nearby. He needed a break, anyway. Running off his mouth and making up ridiculous things they wanted to hear as he went - and keeping track of them all - was exhausting.

[ruffntumblenut]

As it stood, Ruffnut was becoming somewhat of a punch line in the Capitol. Her deaths had been violent and her boasting usually proved itself to be unfounded.

Worst of all when she was pouting she could be downright rude at a party.

"Hey! Did you get eaten by a crocagator? No? Then shut up and give me more of those meat balls." She demanded in a sharp contrast to Hiccups light and conversational manner.

She was clad in a fringe filled faux leather outfit, feathers coming off her arms and most humiliating, a glues tending golden, jewel encrusted helmet with no horns.

She had almost thrown herself out a window to avoid wearing it.

"What are you smiling about?" She snorted at Hiccup as she shoveled meatballs into her mouth getting the grease on her dress.

Dr Dennett Norton || RoboCop 2014 | Tribute | Arena

[biomechatronic]

Dennett was still staring at the weapons when the alarm blared. He'd snagged a medical kit, but mostly because it looked familiar, rather than because he was thinking about any of the, well, implications of it, especially among all the sharp, pointy, dangerous things.

Knife, he thought, or tried to think--it was kind of hard with all the noise and bustle and the uncanny sense of being watched. He was much more used to the controlled quiet of an operating suite than this, what even was this outfit? It was more than a little African Queen, but he was hardly Humphrey Bogart.

A knife would be useful, to slice clothes, or food--there had to be food, right? He hesitated as everyone seemed to scatter, looking at the four paths. They all look terrible, honestly.

That building, then. To the west. It had to be civilization. Maybe a proper hotel, with phones and baths and--could he hope? internet access.

[yourmove]

Apparently he wasn't the only one who'd chosen to go that way: Alex knew by now that he has a weight limit and he takes on look at the thick mud and decides it's not worth the risk.

He takes off at a jog, his HUD helpfully informing him that [ STABILIZERS DAMAGED - FULL SPEED INOPERATIONAL ]. In other words, no sprinting. Good to know. He'd asked Dr. Norton about turning off the notifications constantly popping up and had only gotten an owlish stare and a mournful headshake that said, essentially, he's stuck with it. Oh, and he couldn't do anything about the sound issue too: with the racket Alex makes just be walking, he figures Tributes can hear him even with their eyes closed.

He thought he'd seen the doctor at the Cornucopia. A quick check of the bodies - Alex's face goes too-smooth as he schools his face at the dead bobbing in the fountain - says neither Clara or Norton are there. It's some good news.

Alex catches up to Norton at the front of the building that, he thinks, looks an awful lot like the reptile houses they used to have when he was a kid. It's been awhile since he's gone to the zoo. "Doctor!" Alex stomps up because he literally can't move any other way, his expression hopeful. "You seen Clara around?"

He doesn't add you look good - great to know no one's stabbed you. One thing at a time.

Sarah Kerrigan | Starcraft | Tribute

[aboutthatevac]

She stood in her ridiculous outfit, far different than the form fitting ghost suit she was used to. At least her stylists had pulled back her hair, or rather her tentacles, so they wouldn't be in her face.

There wasn't much that could throw Kerrigan off. She'd been trained to be a killer since she was a child, brainwashed, used in multiple assassinations. She'd been a terrorist and then she'd been corrupted, becoming the Queen of Blades, something twisted and dark who wouldn't-- and hadn't-- blinked at committing genocide.

But through it all, she'd had her telepathic and telekinetic abilities. She'd been in Panem for a few days and the lack of them was still throwing her off. She stood waiting for the countdown to finish but it unnerved her that, despite the people around her, she couldn't read a single one of their thoughts.

But she had a job to do. Survive. She didn't like it. She didn't want to kill (for once). But she didn't have a choice.

When the countdown finished she was off, grabbing a bag and some knives. She didn't need anything more, as anyone who ran into her would find out. She set off toward the building, sure to attract others but if they gave her trouble she would deal with them.

Re: Sarah Kerrigan | Starcraft | Tribute

[geez_louise]

"You look SUPER scary," Louise commented as she ran by. Look, for now they had to be a blur, and that meant no stopping to tie your shoe. She hadn't met a killer yet, but who knew when THAT would change? Best to have a back up plan, which she did.

She paused a moment, seeing Kerrigan headed to the building.

"Oh come on! The one with the stuffed animals? You can't be buying that!"

Sirius Black | Harry Potter | Tribute/Party

[grimbiker]

Tribute

Sirius had learned from his last arena that he ought to at least try to last a while. That didn't mean he was going to participate in this bloodbath. He fought for a cause. He didn't fight to kill people in cold blood.

He ran away from the Cornucopia as soon as the countdown finished. He didn't take anything. Let the Tributes who actually planned on surviving take one. He might die. The Captiol might not bring him back this time but that was a chance he would take. Better that than to give them what they wanted.

He ran for a building. Maybe he could find something to eat there just to tide him over so he didn't starve to death. That was no way to die but probably his only option unless someone killed him. Neither of them were pleasant prospects.

His best bet for the Arena was to find someone who didn't want to kill him and instead kill some time with them before the inevitable.

Party

Sirius had been killed straight off in the Arena. The Gamemakers, proving how perverse they were, brought him back to the party straight away. They still had him dressed in a dumb safari outfit too just to parade his failure in front of everyone. Though he didn't consider it a failure. A failure would be killing someone like they wanted.

They were probably going to have a "talk" with him about that sooner or later. Again.

Sirius went for the drinks right away. He was going to need one or two.

Re: Sirius Black | Harry Potter | Tribute/Party

[versaillesrose]

About as far as Oscar had determined, drinks were one of the few ways to get through each new game cycle, particularly since everything had changed. It was easier, now that she did not have to worry so much about her tributes dying for good, to lose herself in wine instead of in scanning the broadcasts for her kids at every second.

Once there had been a time when you worried more about getting your tribute home in one piece before you worried about getting your victor's head back on straight. Now, instead, you worried about putting their heads back together, and you kept on doing it, while hoping you had done enough to get them out of it for good, and being worried your training had condemned them to being idiots in the arena, and their being kept in sooner.

Sighing, she turned a little, noticing the tribute behind her as one she'd actually seen fighting for a while.

"You weren't so bad," she remarked, seeing a need to give some credit where it was due. She hadn't thought of him as brilliant, or very good, but he hadn't completely mucked it up either. It deserved...something.

james "bucky" barnes | tribute

[kalashnikov]

arena
He'd been quick, moving without really thinking about it. The dagger clenched in his fist is hot from his skin, a spear with the end cut off fitted neatly against his back. His fingers still itch for the solid shape of his rifle but beggars can't be choosers and Bucky knows how to make do. He's got the weapons and he knows how to use them better than most. But the Capitol have got another thing coming if they think he's going to use anything to get knee deep in innocent blood. He may have been beaten down but he's not broken yet. It'll take something bigger and badder.

He opts for the cages ( the memory of Zola's lab like a clanging door swinging open inside of him ), slipping between the paths like an animal himself. There's blood splattered on the ground and he pauses. One gate to his right has been wrenched off and Bucky twists the knife in his hand, blade pointed to the outside of him.

"Listen, buddy. If you've got two legs I'd think twice in attacking right now."

Please don't be an actual lion, he thinks, body tense. Steve will never let me live it down.

I'm so sorry

[tookthewheel]

There's a moment, a white hot crash a schism opening up in his head between Soldier and blurred past. The cavern yawns screaming in his head like the fire of a thousand volts running through his head as he see's the man and face, hears that voice with the Brooklyn accent rolling easily over tongue and lips, sounding natural and true.

He's in the shadows and vegetation, corpse nearby, his hand responsible for tearing off the gate.

The Soldier see's James Buchanan Barnes, a ghost, a man who should only exist on film reels and museum walls and he see's red. The anger boils up fresh and violent and has him breaking cover, charging out in a fury he doesn't understand but feels much older than he can remember. The Soldier leads with a metal fist at this wrong thing before him.

Oscar Francois de Jarjayes | Rose of Versailles| AU Mentor | Party

[versaillesrose]

Well THIS was certainly worthwhile. While it wasn't Oscar's place to question, and she never really had, something in all of this set up was incredibly ridiculous, even moreso than usual.

The oversized pig did it, she decided, staring at the thing for a long moment, though she kept a smile pasted on her face, almost frozen there, as she knew she had to. Still though, knowing what she'd come to know, of just much the food here could actually do for those who needed it,the whole thing seemed a little selfish, and a little cruel.

And very much NOT her place to interfere, the voice in Oscar's head that had kept her alive in the arena reminded her, or to look anything but content to be here. It may be time to get a little air instead.

[bindsthedead]

Sabriel's stylists had decided to play up the 'creepy necromancer' reputation they'd been trying to build, and so Sabriel found herself stuffed into a midnight black getup dress festooned with skulls.

At least they didn't expect her to smile. She followed Oskar, looking like a tall, scowling shadow wearing far too much eyeliner.

Helena "Robin" Wayne | DCnU Earth 2 | Tribute

[thegirlwonder]

The Arena

Helena Wayne felt maybe a little bit more ridiculous in this get-up than she did in her Robin costume. But then again, that costume had been something of a legacy - something to slip into to go crimefighting with her parents, without necessarily taking on either of their own personas. She'd refused to be either Batgirl or Catgirl.

And yet, here she was, standing with many faces she didn't recognize, dressed up in an outfit that her mother would have been appalled by. Guess I'm Safari Girl, she mused.

Jokes aside, though, Helena was psyching herself up. She could do this. She'd had the best teachers in her parents. And she'd trained her ass off. Three hours a day, seven days a week - she had easily logged in over ten thousand hours. So what if this wasn't Gotham City? So what if she didn't have her Robin gear? She was Helena Wayne. She'd win this.

Hopefully without having to kill anyone.

As soon as it's time, Helena rushes forward towards the Cornucopia. A couple of daggers, and a medical kit. The rest, she'd figure out later. The gift shop to the north. It would be dangerous, regardless of what it looked like, but it still seemed the safest bet.

[aboutthatevac]

Kerrigan knew that she wouldn't be the only one heading to the building. Her knives were already stained with blood from the Cornucopia. She watched as the girl ran in front of her. It would be easy to throw a knife and end her life as she'd had countless others, first with a rifle or a knife like this one, then her wing blades.

But this one was young.

"Stop!" It was a command and if Helena turned she would see one knife raised in Kerrigan's hand, ready to let fly at a moment's notice.

Aragorn / Lord of the Rings | Tribute | Arena

[elfstone]

He likes none of this; the strange clothes, the stranger surroundings, the knowledge that he is expected to kill the others in this place. Though he has no plans to murder, survival is something Aragorn is very practiced at, and as the countdown ends, he takes off to the west on long legs. He does not approach the fountain. He can fashion his own supplies.

About an hour later, anyone who ventures toward the dark building may detect the smell of cooking meat: Aragorn has situated himself on the roof and is roasting two or three dead snakes, former residents of the building below. He will share, if you ask honestly. He has lived on meaner fare.

Re: Aragorn / Lord of the Rings | Tribute | Arena

[geez_louise]

"Snakes, huh?" Ok, she'd been running awhile, and she was starving. The nunchuks were all well and good for people, but on animals? They were useless. Even the rope wasn't log enough to rig for a trap.

So it came down to doing something she hated: asking for it. It was bad enough she picked no shooting weapon, she didn't want to starve.

"How's it taste? Gamey? Gourmet? Like chicken? You can level with me here, dad's restaurant pretty much killed any sensations in my mouth."

Marco Bodt | Attack on Titan | Arena

[checkthefridge]

This is about the last thing he expected to happen when he woke up that morning. The fact that he woke up was also really unexpected, but everything in Trost was a bit of a blur now. He was supposed to be graduating, he was supposed to be off to join the Military Police so he could serve the king. Make a change, do something that he was actually capable of doing.

Then the Wall fell, like some sort of cosmic joke. There would be no safety for anyone, and people he had spent the last three years with died in front of him, and all hell broke loose. There wasn't time to stop and process it as everyone died, as everyone broke down in the face of the titans, and now he was here.

Though where here was, Marco really didn't know. A place called Panem, which wasn't anything Marco had ever heard of. Obviously it was beyond the Walls, but...Something about that didn't seem right. He had to be somewhere else entirely, because he couldn't imagine anyone who had to face the titans would hold something so gruesome.

But that would have to be something to think about later, when he wasn't fumbling his way through this so-called arena. He had run from the cornucopia, but now he was in some sort of shop. The toys there were shaped like creatures Marco had never heard of, and they were far softer than his childhood toys back in Jinae which just made everything stranger. He rifled through everything he could, keeping an eye on the door of the shop as he tried to find something he could use to survive just a little bit longer.

Dovahkiin/Ahlmann || Arena tribute

[idkfusrodahdova]

[Okay, so the Dovahkiin was rather certain that he had stepped into yet another nut house from the looks of things. As...impressive of feats that these people had,a aged to perform, he was not exactly all that for being tossed into some random arena against other people. Now if he was being paid for it, then that is a different story entirely. But as far as he knows, he is not.

As far as he knows these people sound more idiotic than a mudcrab.

But the first thing he decided to do was to head to the middle of the arena to pick a few things up, being mindful of those around him, this is a blood sport after all.]

Ellie Sattler | Jurassic Park | Capitol AU--Party

[whoruntheworld]

Her work was everywhere, in almost every Arena. Well, not her work, exclusively. There was a team, you know, but Dr. Ellie Sattler was definitely a name that was known in the-- well, in the labs. In the labs called the most boring, because there were people scurrying all around talking about roots and greens and really, half the time the plants were placed in an Arena to just look pretty. Those orders really knew how to kill the mood- the fun stuff, the really interesting stuff, the stuff Ellie had studied and practiced and lived for-- plants evolved too. They learned how to defend themselves against predators. They knew how to attack. And sure, for most people in the audience, a Tribute's death by ingesting a poisonous plant or berry (and everyone remembered those important berries that brought District Twelves their Victors, and no, those hadn't actually been her idea) was a boring one. But a necessary one. Because then someone would get the idea to grind up a handful of leaves, to soak a point in this one tree's sap--

Anyway, the party.

She was dressed as a lizard. It was an inside joke, and to be perfectly honest, Ellie was an Unknown among the cat-girls and laughing hyenas of celebrities that milled around. Perfectly plain, perfectly content to share a snicker or a very quick sip of a drink, feeling out of place because her viewing of the Games was an exclusive one that had been replaced, this night, by Flickerman's comedy. If she nearly walks into anyone, Tribute or citizen, she apologizes with a little smile and moves on- moves away from the center, the crowd. She's listening for any news of her creation, anything that says her research this time sprung her a surprise, but the Arena was in a zoo and that much was unlikely. She might as well be a(n) (un)glorified landscaper. If she sees someone on their own, looking blue or looking lost, she'll inch near and just ask if they're enjoying the party, and why or why not.

Perfectly plain and she'll get back at whoever made her come to this dumb party when she gets her butt back to that lab, she swears. She'll sneak blueberries into their next sandwich, or sneak them on to their chair.

Louise Belcher/ Tribute/ Arena

[geez_louise]

"YEEEAH, ARENA FOR YOUR LIFE!!!"

Ok, work on that catchphrase. Hey, she only had a few minutes to really perfect it, and anyway, it had been had enough she had to threaten her stylist with severe bodily harm if she so much as TOUCHED the hat. As a result, Louise's pink bunny ears clashed with her whole outfit and she was just fine with that. This wasn't a friggin' fashion show, after all.

First thing was first, necessities! Louise was probably one of the shortest people here and that worked to her advantage. A knee to the crotch her and a duck through a few people's legs there, and Miss Belcher had herself a med kit, rope and a brand new set of nunchaku.

"Ok, one side people, little girl coming thro-I SAID ONE SIDE!" Someone was laughing at the girl, and she was there. "Oh, that's funny huh? Yeah, I guess it is, little girl getting some stuff. Ha ha! Laugh it up, uh huh, yea-NUNCHAKS IN THE KNEE! SUCK IT!"

And while the offending Tribute was on the floor, Louise paused, looking over her shoulder. "Tell 'em Louise was here!"

[smarterthanthem]

"Will you shut up!"

A hand grabs Louise's wrist to accompany the hissed words. Clementine isn't sure why she's attempting to help this girl other than she is another child, younger even than her. "Just run!"

There's a bag over Clementine's should, unchecked for now and remaining so until she's found a safe place to hide.

Buffy Summers | Tribute | Party

[antiapocalypse]

Okay, well. You've gotta give these people one thing: they sure know how to throw a party.

The fashion's a little different -- okay, a lot different -- okay, it's a Paris runway show on some serious fishy steroids. But it's still a party.

Buffy is good at parties. She mingles. She blends. She has even been known to mosey. And even though it's pretty much the furthest thing from the Bronze ever, there's still something kind of comforting about sparkly dresses and finger food. None of which is made of fingers. Hopefully.

Determinedly not losing her appetite, Buffy reaches for the plate of a passing waiter and digs in. Who knows when they're next going to get a halfway decent meal in this place, after all. Or if she'll even be alive tomorrow.

"Careful," she mutters to herself between bites. "If you get any more doom and gloom, a little cartoon raincloud is gonna pop up over your head, and that'll really draw the eyes."

[aintyourdad]

Joel is possibly in the worst position of his life. He's just won his last arena, Victor all the way. But it's ashes in his mouth, because he couldn't save Ellie, and now she's going in there while he's stuck out here, dressed up in what's supposed to look like a goddamn bear suit or something, his hair artfully unkempt, and he keeps to the corners, trying his damnedest not to watch the footage or listen to the noisy, boisterous commentary -

But at the same time, compelled to watch. Compelled to try and spot Ellie, to see how she's doing, to root for his baby girl.

He hates this.

The young woman is new - probably arrived to late to be sent into the arena this time, she's got the fortunate - or unfortunate - ability to watch what goes on before she has to experience it herself.

"Wouldn't make you stand out in this crowd," he offers on a low mutter.

Charlie | Don't Starve | Tribute

[lovelyassistant]

She chose the east path immediately. The east path seemed the brightest, and she couldn't chance the dark. Not here. Not now. Sure, there were weapons, but she wasn't going to run for something she could probably make for herself. She'd had enough practice at that, after all.

The outfit was strange, but if nothing else, it was easier to sprint in than a gown - and at least she had shoes now.

Biting her lip, she kept running until she found a workable stick, taking it up along with a fragment of concrete and some grass. Dropping behind an enclosure, she desperately set to making a spear.

Survive.

She could do that.

Re: Charlie | Don't Starve | Tribute

[geez_louise]

"That'll take some time."

Louise wasn't going to kill anyone yet, no. Right now she was just adding some snark factor to this Arena.

"Let's hope the guy you use that on is dumb as a pile of rocks! Actually, think I saw someone who Literally ARE rocks, so maybe you've got something there."

Dr. Jonathan Crane/Scarecrow | Batman (New 52) | Capitol AU | Party

[hllwman]

...Parties.

As long as he had lived in the Capitol, he wasn't all that fond of themed parties. He didn't dress as festively as most - attesting that being too flashy may undermine his position as the one who listens rather than speaks - but he DID have a scarf adorned with black feathers slung around his neck, tumbling down his back like the wings of a dead crow.

For now, he hung back, picking at his plate of food...and watching.

Mostly just watching.

And maybe analyzing the people around him, but...that was what people did at parties anyway, correct?

Re: Dr. Jonathan Crane/Scarecrow | Batman (New 52) | Capitol AU | Party

[revvinguptheharley]

A high pitched piercing squeal split through the ambiance.

"DOCTOR CRANE!!!"

The Mentor known as Harley Quinn came rocketing out of the crowd in a silver and spotty dress with black boots and gloves. Her blond hair was a spiky sort of mullet as she dashed towards him delightedly mistaking him for someone else.

Dr. Tom Jackman | Jekyll | Tribute | Arena

[lioninside]

Oh god oh god oh god oh god.

This was probably the worst possible scenario that Tom could have found himself in. He wasn't precisely a strong runner or fighter, he wasn't a violent man - he wasn't even fully sure how he got here.

But now he was in, of all places, a zoo.

A ZOO.

Fairly shaking, he ran down towards the gift shop, clutching a medical kit for dear life and praying, just PRAYING -

"Come on, come on - you really pick NOW to be asleep?"

walk up in the club like what up idk if werewolves are still able to transform or not

[thewrongtree]

[but let's go with probably not and say it's a power and not a genetic predisposition.]

Henry shot off like a rocket, avoiding the Cornucopia entirely, and instead moved in the direction of the gift shop, but not to it. If he needed anything, he'd go back for something later. Instead, he kept eyes on the other tributes--people he should avoid, people he could ally with, lots of eyes moving from the floating supplies to the assumed safety of the northern path--, and tucked off in some cover, waiting.

When Tom ran by, Henry reached out and grabbed him by the shirt, pulling him behind the cover with him.

"Lots of dangerous looking people headed that way. Other options may be more tactically safe for a time." His voice is low, just loud enough that it can be heard. Nowhere was actually safe, and he knew that, but the other man didn't need to be in the middle of a turf war that might happen.

Edward Nygma ⸮ DCnU ⸮ Tribute

[riddledwith]

¿arena?

His desire had been to get away with at least some rope. Anything extra was icing. He had been two strides in running towards the fountain when he realized that wish fulfillment was not worth the chance (a much greater than slim chance, unfortunately) of death. He stopped himself and surveyed his other options. There was always someone who in their eyes he'd look like a fool no matter what he did. It was his objective to prove them wrong.

Danger waited no matter which direction he were to choose. The difference was the risk/reward between them. If he had greater upper body strength and climbing was an option, the swamp could have been a good choice. Whatever waited there would be predator to whoever searched for prey there. Chances were he couldn't outclimb whatever mutated swamp-dwelling creatures they had though.

Gift shop was a predictable choice, too predictable, and probably home to baited traps for those who thought it was safest. Paranoia was his friend here, up to the moment it could tear him apart, but maybe paranoia wasn't the right word and vigilance was more appropriate.

So cages or "exotic" animal tanks remained, both equal risk with a potential for survival. He knew enough about the native species he was familiar with to improvise around the possible outcomes of whatever genetic and behavioral manipulation could have been done to snakes, lions, scorpions, or whatever else awaited him.

However, if he did chance the swamp, he could fashion rope from vines... There were less chances of finding items that could be useful in the cages or tank areas. Useful items, who was he kidding, this was a zoo.

Metaphorically and literally. Ha.

He wasn't doing himself any favors just standing in the wide open while people acquired weapons though, even if some were far more occupied with themselves to care what everyone else was doing at this moment of panic and greed.

He'd take his chances with the path closest to him at this point. Looks like he was taking... a trip to the pound. [yeaaaaaaaahhhhhhh]

[[I am so ridiculously sorry about how long this is but uh,, Eddie is kind of a thinking character. I promise everything with him won't be as long.]]

Re: Edward Nygma ⸮ DCnU ⸮ Tribute

[geez_louise]

"Whoa-HO, seriously? Chancing the animals? I know you're no spring chicken, but you don't look like the death trap type!"

Yeah, she really should be deciding on her own by now, kill or be killed and all of that, but Louise was the type of girl that liked to have fun. Taunting people.

Elphaba Thropp | Wicked | Victor | Party

[look_to_the]

Elphaba hated parties. At least, she hated Capitol parties. Parties at home, parties with the other victors from 2, parties with all of the other victors, those things weren't so bad. Elphaba may have grown up with plenty, but...ugh. All this was disgusting, not to mention painfully boring.

She'd gone simple for the evening, as always, clothing her slim, gamey, green-skin-dyed-or-that's-the-official-story figure in a slinky dress of dark green, shimmering snakeskin, hair slicked back and stylized cobra fangs drawn on her face with makeup, rather than prosthetics applied. She always choked on such things, although she'd allowed Fiyero to talk her into snake-eye contacts, at least.

[thebrainless]

On the other hand, Fiyero loved parties. It was one of the perks about being an escort again, getting invited to the ridiculously exclusive parties he had missed out on while being the his father's company's head of PR and an all around party boy. And the fact that he had managed to wear Elphaba down about coming to this one with him just made it all the better.

While he hadn't undergone anything too drastic for the occasion, he was wearing a custom tailored faux-white tiger three piece suit and had gotten his irises altered slightly to make them icy blue for the time being (which he had been told would probably wear off in a couple months, give or take a few weeks). Holding onto a pair of glowing, bright purple drinks, he made his way over to Elphaba and handed her one. "As soon as we're done here, how about we go upstairs so you can molt?"

Adrian Monk | Monk | Tribute (Arena)

[givemeawipe]

There were a lot of things wrong with this whole scenario.

Firstly, he didn't...do...zoos. They were filthy, and they had...nature...everywhere. Not just nature, but nature that was purposefully put somewhere that COULD have been clean. It was beyond him why anyone would actually DO that.

Second, he felt uncomfortable in these unfamiliar clothes. They weren't his. He didn't even pick them out. It felt intrusive, and that made him feel crowded.

Third was the whole...death match.

That one was kind of a big...thing.

When the Tributes got the signal to go, Adrian didn't run down a path. In fact, he seemed to be having trouble with the concept of stepping off the pedestal in the first place. He was faced with the decision of where he was going to be running, and...they all, frankly, sounded terrible.

So he stood there, stepping on and off the pedestal, wringing his hands together and looking really upset.

Re: Adrian Monk | Monk | Tribute (Arena)

[medecin]

Joly SHOULD have probably been looking for one of his friends at this point, or finding somewhere to hide until going to look for them felt reasonable, instead of making his heart beat so hard he could feel it in his chest, but that was not exactly happening either.

He had to do SOMETHING other than just standing there, and the lack of any smog to trip him up was an advantage he ought to be taking, but that was when he caught site of one of the tributes he hadn't noticed before and edged his way closer, glad that he recognized the signs of panic well enough from his own experiences with it that he could be of some use to someone before his uselessness settled in again.

"Monsieur?" He asked, making his way over, pitching his voice so that it could be more soothing than not. "They do not like us to linger here, usually. If they are not already planning to send something to be sure we do not, that will happen soon." It was probably not the most helpful thing he could have said, but he'd rarely been on this end of a panic attack before.

"I think that there is time for both of us to find a safe place if you could trust me for as long as that takes. I am a doctor, where I came from." He did not mention that he had actually been ALMOST a doctor or the year, which seemed to alarm more people than that first confession, and maybe that would help, a little.

Albert Wesker | Resident Evil (gameverse) | Panem AU/ Party

[tobeagod]

He ignored the first two calls to come attend the party. When creating he had no desire to be interrupted or sent about to do things that would draw him from his research. It was due to that fact that only a few even knew he existed just yet. With today being the beginning of the next Games, Wesker found himself being forced into a situation where he needed to or risk damage to his reputation.

It was for this reason that he found himself walking into the first party of the season an hour later. While he disdained the prosthetic teeth, Wesker did leave his sunglasses tucked away in his inner pocket. His red slit-pupiled eyes were enough to draw attention along with the false scales his assistant insisted she get to apply in a band across his eyes from temple to temple. They caught the light and refracted it back in shades of green and purple. His clothing was of the same scaled design, clinging to him and shifting with the light that moved across his body. Silly, stupid things compared to the alligators he had designed for the Games this cycle. The slow acting poison on their teeth should provide endless entertainment with the myriad of results that could occur.

Then there were other surprises for the Tributes.

Taking a glass of champagne, Wesker watched the screen intently. Soon, he told himself.