thecircus | TEST DRIVE MEME

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test drive meme

TEST DRIVE MEME

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

Premise: Something has gone a bit wrong with the device, and it's pulling in more people than the Capitol had planned. Extras, doubles, or even the same exact version of someone already pulled into Panem, with or without their memories! It's a mess. But somebody has to clean it up. And what better way to do so than to have a televised death-match!?

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. 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 they choose. Even cast members who aren't or are no longer tributes. Since this meme is taking place between Arenas 12 and 13, you may play your character as though they have been sent into this arena after Arena 12, CR and in-game history intact. OR. You may play your character as having a clean slate; as though this is their very first Hunger Games. Or, at least the first one they can remember.

This meme may not count for in-game CR because it will not be considered as having actually happened, plot-wise.

Guests - welcome to Panem. This is your first time here. Your first Hunger Games. Run for the Cornucopia. Hide in a corner and cry. We don't care. Go crazy. Have fun. Make new friends. Profit.

***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).

The Arena.

Below, you will find a description of the setting for this arena as well as a few details regarding weapons, supplies and hazards.

Setting.

The sky above is a vivid and clear blue and the air is cool and thin; crisp and sharp with the distinctive smell of autumn. In the distance, you can see the peaks of tall purple mountains capped with fresh white snow but they are still many long miles from where you are.

To some, the immediate surroundings may seem slightly familiar, to others it is a strange place filled with peculiar and unstable structures scattered across roughly a square mile of clearly unmaintained concrete pathways. You are in an amusement park. Or what must have been one at some point in time. The rotted out husk of what once had been a Ferris wheel, and the weather-worn shells of old vendor stalls are the nearest things in sight. Some of their signs are even still legible; faded paint having not chipped off entirely. "Cotton Candy", "Win A Prize!" "Buy Ride Tickets Here"

You have been outfitted in a pair of heavy cotton denim jeans, a pair of high-topped black athletic shoes, a form-fitting grey long-sleeved nylon-blend undershirt and a heavier cotton shirt of the same colour to wear over the top, as well as a dark grey windbreaker with reflective white edging.

Shelter here is scarce but available. There are three brick buildings found throughout the park with restively intact roofs, all of them were once public restrooms that also served as tornado shelters. The plumbing in these buildings have long since been unusable. Ruptured pipes have damaged interior walls and floors. Several pools have formed in the lower areas of the ruined floors and the stagnate water is ripe with bacteria and grime. The southern-most building also has a very impressive infestation of rats.

Vendor and food stalls as well as storage and control sheds were not made quite of the same caliber as the restroom facilities, and though they are more frequent, they are also significantly less insulated. Though the wood from these places would be easy enough to break off and turn into firewood if you can find something to start a flame with.

Another key landmark is the sizable lake to the west of the park, man-made and stagnant, there is a peculiar odor that comes off the water if the wind is blowing the wrong way. A green and murky colour, the almost the entire surface of the water is coated in a thick layer of algae and bacteria. Though you can easily see from one shore to the next, the lake is deep and likely teeming with life below. Most of it... probably unpleasant.

Aside from the overgrowth of weeds that have begun to break through the concrete and twist around the bars of the rusted-out rides, there is very little vegetation here. A few thin trees have clung to life in their broken planters, and the boundaries of the park are thick with waist-high grasses, brown and dead in the near-winter of this place. In fact, the only real thing that seems to be thriving here is the algae floating upon the surface of the lake.

Supplies.

The Cornucopia is your first, most important resource. Around it are scattered the available resources:

Weapons:
-steel-tipped leather bull whip
-crowbar
-throwing axe
-six-inch serrated hunting knife

Equipment:
-day-glow orange backpacks containing the following items:
waterproof matches, high-tensile metal chord (12 feet), wool gloves, iodine
-small crate labeled "apples"
-chords of nylon rope
-metal quart-sized container presumably full of water
-small white plastic, containing the following items:
insect repellant, two strips of beef jerky, silver (reflective) emergency blanket

**IMPORTANT NOTE!!!!

Since this is a meme, we are going to allow each character the pick of ONE weapon and ONE equipment item, if you believe that your character would risk running for the cornucopia. Just remember. These are high demand items and we rather encourage you to fight over them ;) So long as you all remain civilized about it, of course. If things get out of hand, a mod will step in. Have fun with it, but be realistic too.

Immediate Hazards.

-The Cold. During the day temperatures are cool, but bearable. However, as soon as the sun drops behind the mountains, the temperatures plummet dramatically, lingering well below freezing until mid-morning.

-Debris. Broken glass, rusted metal, broken concrete, rotten wood. This place has been falling apart for years and you weren't given a tetanus shot before you came here.

-Insects. The stagnant lake is a ripe breeding ground for an alarming amount of insects. From giant dragon flies to tiny biting gnats, prepare yourself for a bite or two. Just hope nothing too nasty sinks it's teeth into you. You may not enjoy the results.

-The Water. Easy to acquire but bad to drink. Maybe you should pray for a rainstorm...

Wildlife.

**Cyprinus Acidus. These large bottom-feeding fish are abundant in the lake and though not recommended to consume raw, if cooked properly, could be eaten.

**Loxosceles reclusa granda. Aggressive and unnervingly large brown spiders native to the area and love to lurk in dark corners. Their bites are incredibly poisonous and will begin to rot away the surrounding flesh if not treated promptly.

**Rattus norvegicus. The common rat. Edible if cooked. Known to be carriers of diseases. (Especially if they were put here to do just that...)

Foodstuffs.

The aforementioned animals and some of the algae from lake are the only sources of food here, and they are not particularly good ones at that. Food and water are not easy to come by in the arena and will likely make for a miserable time for many.

As always, we here at The Games would like to wish you a very happy Hunger Games!

May the odds be ever in your favor.

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Sadie Doyle, capitol citizen and toast of the upper crust, had recently decided to venture into the dubious business of having interests outside of her own marriage and hedonism. And, really, patronage of the Games were simply the thing to do these days. Or had been forever, technically. It had always been a thing to do. She simply had been content with her purely spectator position before. But throwing money and gifts at the tributes may just suit as a first venture into this whole 'hobby' business.

She'd come to this particular party, one for sponsors to mingle with the escorts, stylists, and mentors looking to take advantage of their money, to dip her toes into the whole patronage affair. And, as luck would have it, she had been simply enamored with the newest arena from the moment she'd looked up from ordering her drink and seen it. So many little metal bit and whirly-woos! And then the highlight of the event had appeared as all the little tributes went scurrying away. It was, for perhaps the first time in her life, a fine thing the glass in her hand was empty, because her gin and gin over gin would have likely gone splashing about as she clapped her hands together.

"Clown! Oh, I certainly do hope there are no flowers which- despite their common appearance- upon close examination spray liquid into the eyes of the unwary!"

The barman placed the ordered drink on the bar beside her and, in a dramatic stage whisper, Sadie leaned in towards the person closest to her and confided:

"I secretly hope there are such flowers."

There's a certain change that comes over Jason Compson when he has to actually care about posture and etiquette, rather than putting in the bare minimum effort not to topple over the line of casual into rude. It's not something that comes about often, but it's a skill he necessarily employs during parties where Escorts will be fraternizing with Sponsors. Sadie may be here to enjoy the show, but Jason is here to work, to secure some gifts for his Tributes so that maybe he can pull a winner out of this sorry bunch and go home with enough of a bonus to take the occasional sick day.

And so, when he leaves the green room of staffers, his back is straight and he smells like cologne instead of his favored camphor cigarettes. He doesn't drink, he never does, but he isn't casting judgmental glances at people's gin and champagne. The difference would be as obvious as two separate stages on a chart of human evolution.

"If there aren't, there should be. It'd serve them right for wasting time frolicking instead of getting around to the action." He stands next to her at the bar and orders a seltzer water. "Sorry, couldn't help but overhear. You got a favorite?"

"Oh, I simply couldn't choose. I love them all equally...If pressed, however, I suppose I would have to say...gin. No- vodka. No! Whiskey. I simply adore a good whiskey. And the naughty ones aren't too bad, either..."

She trailed off, her attention now thoroughly removed from the games on the screens before them as a far more heinous event took her mind away from her newest dabbling into hobby-having. She looked at the bubbly water being poured with a heavy frown, positively disturbed by this latest development concerning this newest conversation partner. He hadn't quite caught what he'd been ordering, but she was certain this couldn't be right.

"Oh, darling, are you trapped in some terrible feud with our barman? He would appear to be playing a trick of rather poor taste on you."

"I meant the Tributes." He takes a seat, relaxing enough to rest on one elbow on the bar, raising one eyebrow when the seltzer comes with a wedge of lime and a cherry in it. Going all out here, aren't they? Maybe he should be glad they didn't shove a whole grapefruit in there for appearances.

"Eh?" He glances from the drink back at her, realizing belatedly what she's talking about. "No, this is exactly what I ordered. It's to my taste, poor or not. I want to be sober to meet everyone here."

It's a lie through his teeth - he can't imagine anything more dull and irritating than listen to a woman like Sadie wax on about her favorite flavors of alcohol - but he can't afford to put people off him. His budget for his District only goes so far, and if he expects any of his Tributes to make it very far this time around they're going to need fresh water.

"Maybe I'm just bad at holding my liquor and don't want to embarrass myself too badly."

The look of horror is not put to rest with his reasoning. It only gains a faint edge of concern. Particularly at that want to be sober bit. She couldn't imagine facing anyone beyond her own husband in such a state- and even that was only because Frank was nothing if not a pillar of emotional support, as well as a damn fine bar tender himself. Most of these people were simply wretched, up to and including those she counted as her very dearest friends among them. Sobriety certainly could do nothing to improve them.

"There is nothing but practice for that. And it may do you wonders for making acquaintances. There is something simply off-putting about a lone dry man standing in the midst of a flood. Slightly sinister."

"There's nothing sinister about it. I just prefer to keep my wits about me." He keeps, barely, from sounding defensive about that, drawing upon the shallow well of his charm to try and dissipate her horror. He didn't realize that his own preference on what to put in his mouth was going to start the night off on such a bad foot. He tactfully, but firmly, replies.

"Besides, my father had enough to drink that I'm sure it runs in my veins by proxy."

This entire conversation was not lessening in the level or concerning- but before Sadie can continue along that particular trail he suddenly presents a rabbit to chase after instead. Drunkards were hardly a novelty in the Capitol, but it a certain kind of lifestyle was suggest in making that ones drug of choice. In a world where far harder drugs which offered far more 'bang for one's buck' could be found, inebriation tended to be a bit more expensive form of suicide. Judging by the young man's age and the past-tense reference to his father, Sadie doubted she would have been personally well acquainted with the man. But even Sadie Doyle had once spent her time as a youth clinging to her own father's hand at various social events. And there was something about those cheekbones tickling at the back of her memory...

"He sounds a delight. Now that you mention it, darling, there is something slightly familiar about your particular style."

[Not sure if it will come up, but here is the current rough-draft of her AU history if that will help.]

Powerful families run in the same circles, and bit by bit her face starts to come into place. He saw her at parties when she was young. They were among the children occasionally shuffled off to playrooms while their parents rubbed elbows and discussed politics and each other and the dreadful state of the Districts. Jason was always a bit of a solitary kid, lingering around his siblings but rarely engaging, except during his odd business ventures with the Patterson kid.

She's not that much younger than him, and her first name eludes him, but her last one comes to mind. Doyle. He holds his hand out to shake.

"Jason Compson. My father was a Jason Compson too. My mother was a Bascomb, too, if that jogs your memory any."

Neither of those surnames carries the same weight it did once upon a time, and something inside Jason tenses up, as if waiting for Sadie to dredge up the old scandal that cast the Compsons from the realm of respectable, reputable, influential families into the laughingstock of the Capitol.

"I think- it must have been nearly twenty-five years ago now- I think we met before, at a party at the Reagans. They had an ice sculpture of an elephant that my older brother climbed up on, and when he fell off they took him away in an ambulance."

[OOC: Here's Jason's, if it helps!]

"Oh, oh- and I was put off peanuts for a year after! I remember. You were an absolute block of ice yourself, darling."

Her laughter at the memory doesn't hold any edge of knowing just how far the family has fallen- she'd far too occupied in her own affairs to note such trivial matters for no reason. She will look into it now of course, dredging up what she can once they've parted. But for the moment, she can only view him through the tinted glass of childhood nostalgia. A comrade in arms, so to speak, in the battle that was being raised among the elite.

"Oh, Jason, my dear. You simply must let me buy you a drink. Never mind about your wits, I promise I shall protect you for the evening! And Sadie Doyle never fails at her word."

"I got my nose done since then. That's why you don't recognize me." Adulthood has been kind to Jason, at least physically, as it is to so many gawky Capitol children. Plastic surgery and weight loss are nothing to be ashamed of here; in fact, they're nearly a matter of parental responsibility. Growing up with a deviated septum or an overbite is something of a sign that your family doesn't really love you enough to want to see you succeed.

"I like to think I've warmed up a little since then. And I'll take you up on that, but only if you let me have my seltzer water instead of anything alcoholic. It's nothing sinister. I'm just allergic," he lies, hoping that sets her on a different trail. He raises his glass of tame beverage to her, raising his eyebrows as well, as if asking her to make a deal.

[OOC: I'm loving this, I hope you app!]

"Now that is a shame."

She's not entirely sure what his reasons are- the whole idea of 'working' wasn't one that would enter her head- but they've moved far enough along in the conversation to make it a boring point to press after.

"Taking up the challenge of drinking for the both of us may prove a tall order, but that is just the way I like them. Oh, bar man!" She waved a hand, beckoning the keeper of the booze back over. "But, come. It's been ages and noses and perhaps an augmented breast or two between now and then. Where have you been keeping yourself?"

[ahh, me too. Even bad people need friends. And yes, I hope to soon!]

"I'm sure you can manage." Besides, the drunker she is the more likely she is to either make him a promise of a few assi, or be so blackout drunk that he can pretend she did and not have her correct him later.

"Oh, around." He had to work not because he needed something to do, not because becoming an Escort was his calling, but because his family was broke, always one late bill payment away from getting the servant's quarters repossessed. But that's hardly party conversation; it's just the internal monologue that folds in on itself and soils itself while it crawls around in Jason's head, the rage he can't put a voice to for reasons of propriety. "Decided to involve myself with the Games, since my mother enjoys them so much. I'm the Escort for District Seven."

He loathes too much that he can't even claim title to a prestigious District. Seven, Districts of lumberjacks and pine needles. "And you?"

He doesn't mention the Brutus scandal, just like she doesn't mention Candace.

"Ha! I am on to you now Jason Delano Octavia Compson."

A few of those names may or may not have been randomly added on based on whomever her eyes happened to pass over as she threw back her first drink. Her smile is still in place- nay, larger- as she places the glass back down and waves the bartender over for another. His question, sadly, is ignored for the moment as she pushes forward along her own point.

"Such a innocent question. 'You got a favorite,' indeed, sir. Come now, point out which are yours. Or which particular bloodstains formerly crawled out from your forest domain, I suppose."

"Bascomb Richmond," he says, only affecting the sound of chiding. He has no great love for any of his names; as far as he's concerned, they're the only things his parents gave him that he didn't have to fight for. They're old names, too, names that survived whatever war leveled historical knowledge, the earth from which Panem grew. They lack the Latin affectation of many of the newer names here.

"You caught me. I was going to try and direct your eyes towards one of my charges. But now that we're both being honest about it..." He looks at the screen and winces. Once of his is, in fact, a bloodstain. Cassian, too, one of the better-scored ones.

He points to a screen showing a blonde with large eyes running through the tall grass. "That one, Beth Greene, is probably my personal favorite. I'm going to try and get her a cooking show, you know, to pass the time between Arenas. She isn't scored high but I guarantee she has more personality than half the scarecrows the other Districts got. And that one-"

He gestures to another screen, where Loki is sneaking through reeds. "That one's just quaint. He insists that I address him as a god whenever he walks into the Suite. I don't, of course, but it's like watching a dog walk on its hind legs. Almost charming."

Sergius hadn't been paying much attention to Sadie up until that moment, having been transfixed by whatever action was showing on the big screens. But he was a nice enough guy, or polite enough not to roll his eyes in her face and laugh. He recognized her. She was the toast of the upper crust, not his type of people, so he owed her some respect.

"Yeah, same. I love that stuff." He smirked at her, raising his own coke and rum. "Comedy gold. Shit like that is goddamn entertaining." He caught himself swearing, but it was too late. "Whoops."

"Oh, never you mind, darling."

She liked this one, she could tell. His close proximity to the bar may have something to do with it, but agreeing with her had never hurt a soul. Thus she waved his 'whoops' away with one hand, raising her own glass to join in on the toast to comedy.

"A well placed banana peal is poised to be fucking enthralling. Though I suppose an electrifying hand-buzzer or two may be rather more in theme. Ooh- or a car which only becomes miniature once someone has climbed within it!"

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TEST DRIVE MEME

Sadie Doyle | Thrilling Adventure Hour (Beyond Belief) | Capitol AU

oh my goodness 8D

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Hope this is okay!

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