Panem Events (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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thecircus2014-06-10 12:39 am
etcircenses) wrote in thecircus2014-06-10 12:39 am
Entry tags:
Test Drive Meme
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.
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.
no subject
That was when Hiccup actually looked up to see who he was talking to and the moment he did, the color drained out of his face.
R was dead. R was very clearly dead. And yet walking and talking.
Hiccup dropped his place and before it had even crashed to the floor, he'd already vaulted over the buffet table to the other side of it, pointing at R as if he planned to jab him to death with his index finger if he came closer, for dearth of any weapons.
"Draugr! You're a draugr."
He was not superstitious by nature. In fact, he as the one more likely to doggedly prove Berk superstitions weren't in the least bit reasonable. He'd still heard the stories growing up, though, and if anything was possible in this place...
no subject
"I...guh-guess...?" R assumes that means monster, corpse, zombie - whatever. He prefers zombie or Dead, personally. Monster's true, but it still sits wrong. And corpse is so...medical, and cold. "Not...eat...you. Okay?"
R holds up both hands - he has both hands again, after getting them shredded to bony splinters last Arena - and he's proud to say they're gore-free and there isn't even a spot of blood or anything stuck between his fingernails. His Stylist team outdid themselves. One of them muttered something about desperately needing a vacation after this.
He tries to ignore the accusing finger stabbed his way, trying very, very hard to remember if he's killed anyone who looks like Hiccup. So far he's drawing blanks.
no subject
However, R wasn't attacking him, expanding to a huge size to crush him, or driving him mad with his evil undead powers. So if he was undead but wasn't a draugr, that just made him an unknown. Fortunately, Hiccup was pretty comfortable at accepting the unknown.
At least when he knew more about it.
"A draugr's an undead thing that supposedly eats people or sucks their blood, or drives them crazy. We have stories. Ones that probably aren't true but -" he gestured to R "- apparently similar things are elsewhere." He didn't sound hostile, though. He started to look at R now as if he wanted to understand him enough to not be spooked. "So, uh, what are you if you're not one?"
no subject
R shakes his head: while zombies do eat people (the blood sucking is just kind of incidental, really), he's pretty sure they don't intentionally drive people crazy. That part seems like it happens on its own and he can say that living in the wasteland of a city you might've grown up, seeing neighbors and family and coworkers all being eaten alive, and he thinks he can see why people spiral. In a way, it's easier to be a corpse. Less complicated. Things don't shock. Things don't have much of an impact and he's always wished for something more, but sometimes he can see why it might be considered a perk. At last Hiccup hadn't screamed his head off or gone for the carving knife by the lamb. He'd been worried about the screaming the most.
"Zom...bie," R carefully enunciates it for him, working it out behind the muzzle. The word "draugr" actually has a kind of a ring to it and it does seem less offensive than being called corpse or it or thing. "Some...things same." He wants to get that out there, be truthful. His hand comes out toward Hiccup.
The dead boy wants to shake. When he sees that look in Hiccup's brown eyes, curious, honest but a little nervous, he wants to talk like real people.
no subject
For a moment, Hiccup just stared into R's dead eyes, trying to see if there was malice there or intent to harm, and what he saw...
What he saw was someone that looked almost as skittish as him. What he saw was someone. A person, one who almost looked hungry for something far more vital than flesh.
If only some things were the same, if he was only a bit like a draugr (which was possibly what the muzzle was for) that still meant other things were different.
So Hiccup did the daring (and possibly stupid) thing like he so often did and slowly reached out his hand for R's. Hiccup's people didn't really have gestures equivalent to the modern handshake but they did clasp hands at times as a show of camaraderie or as a greeting to show they were unarmed and meant peace. So it was more of a hand clasp than a hand shake, a brief but firm hold that was somehow more personal. It was more an acknowledgement of equality than a simple greeting.
When he let go, he didn't wince at the cold clamminess, or wipe his hand on anything, or look disgusted, or react any differently than he would have after touching the hand of a living person.
"I don't know what a zombie is but instead of what you are, I think I'm going to start worrying more about getting to know who you are. So what's your name?" he asked with a gentle smile. "My name's Hiccup."