TEST DRIVE ARENA 002

[gamemakers]

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 03 and 04, you may play your character as though they have been sent into this arena after Arena 03, 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). 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.

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 building is old and musty, light filtering down through the dust particles that every movement sends into the air. It was obviously once a grand and beautiful place, a bustling hub, but this is far from true anymore.

The building consists of multiple levels. The main concourse is a huge, cavernous room, a hard place to hide in, but where all the cornucopia goodies can be found. Blue paint speckled with gold can still be seen clinging to what's left of the room, but any design has long since eroded away. Below that, a floor that ones held business and restaurants of all natures, and lower still levels of tracks, now long past the days of holding trains. Some of these tracks can be followed down a bit, if you want to make the jump down into them, but eventually all end short, either collapsed over the years or long since flooded out, ending in dark, murky water.

You have been outfitted in a pair of heavy cotton denim jeans, solid boots, a light cotton t-shirt and a heavy cotton hoodie. The upper floor can catch a draft, especially as night comes, but below the temperature is moderate, even warm.

Many thins are falling apart here, but the bulk of the building, made of cement and marble, has stood against time well. However, window have long since broken out, and store fronts, benches and counters made of woods have not fared as well.

Al thought electricity stopped here long ago, the Capitol has rigged partial power into the arena. Sometimes. The flickering lights are dim, and unreliable, and seem to always come and go at the worst times. Expect to find yourself exploring a tunnel by flickering lights, to suddenly be plunged into the kind of darkness you can only find under ground. Just you, the rat, and the person following you alone in the cozy darkness.

Supplies.

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

Weapons:
-crowbar
-six-inch serrated hunting knife
-night stick

Equipment:
-day-glow orange backpacks containing the following items:
waterproof matches, high-tensile metal chord (12 feet) iodine
-small crate labeled "apples"
-chords of nylon rope
-metal quart-sized container presumably full of water
-flash lights


**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 rats. They are big, nasty, and hungry. And there are MANY of them, especially if you go into the tunnels.

-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.

-Cave ins. The tunnels have not been maintained. They are not as stable as they once were after years of flooding and damage with no one to patch them up.

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



Wildlife.

**Columba livia. Common city pigeon. They are available in mass, flying in from the broken windows and holes in the roof. They are flighty, and messy, but not particularly smart.

**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...) These guys are EVERYWHERE and some of them get to sizes that might make you wonder if they are cross breeding with stay dogs. And if you explores the tunnels, beware the mythical rat king a massive bundles of rats whose tails have knotted together.

Foodstuffs.

Both the rats and pigeons are edible. In additions, some of the restaurants might have food tucked into the back, in various states of edible.

Dripping water can be found in many places. Drink at your own risk. Some is fine, some...not so much.

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

May the odds be ever in your favour.

Post apocolyptic grand central image from here

Comments

MAIN CONCOURSE

[gamemakers]

[and_my_pickaxe]

Lin Mayuzumi was not. Eating. Rats.

She already felt disgusting in these filthy commoner clothes, and the idea of fighting in a dark, enclosed space for the last scrap of diseased rat revolted her. She couldn't care less about the weapons - she was sure she could find something sharp down here to gouge out someone's eye with. Her time in the shelter cabin had taught her that food was, above all, the rarest and most valuable resource in an emergency....

At the sound of the gong, the woman shot like a bat out of hell towards the crate of fresh apples.

The once dignified woman was already prepared to kill for them...

omg what am I doing?

[wantedittobeagame]

He really wanted a gun.

The whole reason he had joined the police force was so he could legally own one in Japan, but everything in the world seemed to keep him from actually using one. First it was the TV world, where he couldn't use too many bullets against the Shadows or the extra orders for bullets would draw too much attention from the higher ups, and now it was this place, who not only took away his favorite weapon but his Personae as well. Right now, surrounded by all these people that would be out to kill him as soon as the trigger went off, Adachi would have given anything to be able to at least feel Izanagi's presence in the back of his mind. But he couldn't have that, and he couldn't have a gun, so he was going to need the next best thing.

Unfortunately the closest thing to a blade that was there, at least from what he could tell, was a tiny as hell knife; not at all something he had used before in the TV world.

Adachi felt his blood run cold as the signal went off, and he felt his feet propelling himself forward. This was going to suck, this was going to suck…!

[villainforsire]

If this was going to be a bloodbath, Tarquin needed a weapon. It didn't have to be an elegant weapon (he knew from experience that the audience loved the unexpected), but something that could reasonably be used to bludgeon people to death. No big.

That long lethal metal pole should do very well. Of course, as he heads towards it, he knows that this would be the exact cue for some sort of violent confrontation. Well, in the best of stories. He wouldn't say no to getting it scot-free either.

ahahaha

[polyturtle]

Don knew this place the moment he was raised onto the platform. Knew it by heart. There was no way he couldn't know it.

He was home. And his home in this world was destroyed. And he knew, just from the smell, what he needed to do.

Water. That was going to be the priority. And when he sees a bottle of water, well. He's going to go after it.

So he bolts, right towards the nearest water bottle.

Re: MAIN CONCOURSE

[pieceofcake]

Gaius was used to living the low life, but this joint was lower than most. He made the immediate decision to head for the weapons and gear. Better to get there before everyone else did, and hell, he wasn't afraid of the dark. He'd worry about the lights and rats and possible lockjaw later.

He moved quick and he moved stealthy, sizing up the proffered items with a thief's practiced eye. No sweets, so that just left one item of interest (seriously, what were those weird cylindrical things?): the knife.

Not a sword, but it'd have to do till he could find something better. He grabbed for it without hesitation. Finders keepers, nothing personal and so on and so forth.

[misscabernet]

It's not the stadium. In fact, the place has never been a stadium in its life. Even in the empty husk of its belly, the station feels cramped, the rot closing in on her in a way it never did at home. Her back pressed to a wall, heart hammering, she doesn't move. Even if she's used to the hustle and bustle of tightly-packed bodies, there's a smooth danger in the lines of these people that begs her to stay out of the way. Without even a stick for defense, it's the best bet -- and that's after admitting the Cornucopia is a treasure begging to be picked. Supplies are limited, are always limited. Humans just picked up the rat-like tendency to harbor anything they could find with the least bit of use.

Speaking of rats. "Shit!" she hisses out through clenched teeth, a horrifically large specimen climbing the hill of her shoe and the whip-like tail just brushing her ankle. It ambles off, fat and content with the load of apple flesh in its hands. From the corner of her eye, the red of the fruit looks like it could just be a chunk of missing flesh. If rats eating people is all she's got to worry about, it'll be a breeze.

Right.

Her fingers itch for that crowbar, and she slides close to the ground to wait, deliberating, watching. Weighing options. Risk whatever, grab it, run. She's fast, she's learned how to run -- but she's also learned when the stakes are too high, when to pull back. Not courtesy of dad, by the way. Still. It's tempting, and it's a question of risk it now or risk it later. There's always something to defend herself from, it's just whether it comes up sooner or when she could really get screwed.

DINING CONCOURSE

[gamemakers]

[minitreiver]

There was no way Eliot was going for the supplies. He wanted them but there were too many people. He'd never be able to fight his way through all of them. Instead, he ran for one of the doorways leading to a stairway down.

Now he was hiding in the back of an old restaurant. One of the chairs in the eating area had a leg that was still sturdy enough for him to use as a weapon. He still didn't know what he was going to eat. Later, when everyone was settling down, he'd check the food storage just in case something was left. Right now, he had to make sure no one snuck up on him.

[kontingency]

K hadn't bothered to go for the Cornucopia - whether that was just him knowing he wouldn't need it, or not wanting to get into a fight over the resources there, who really could say?

Still, right now, the large man (in a suit of armor with more then one obvious vulnerability, like his back) was opting to hunt through the back of an old restaurant for supplies, seeing as he was quite aware of how hungry he was. He was relying on the fact that there were few weapons, at the Cornucopia, too - none that could realistically hurt him, sans the knife. Fingers crossed on that count, of course.

Oh, armor. How wonderful it was. Until, of course, his watch was attacked. What a poor vulnerability...

Re: DINING CONCOURSE

[splendid_roman]

Ian had watched the others rush to fight over weapons and decided to bide his time instead. Some of them were bound to be cocky just because they had a weapon and he could use that.

Instead he'd gone exploring and found the first level was best for hiding places. He'd kicked in the door of a shop and then hid behind it. He stayed quiet and listened, and when someone approached he moved quickly, coming out from behind the door and grabbing them.

Re: DINING CONCOURSE

[kassquit]

She couldn't erase the Cornucupia from her mind. It wasn't as if Kassquit hadn't tried.

Coming out of there with a long black stick of some sort, she was surprised to find her hands were trembling. Even when she noticed and willed them to stop, they kept right on trembling. Another Tosevite reaction from her physiology, the part of her that was most like the Race thought. Probably no different then sweat and disgusting hair growth. Knowing didn’t help. Kassquit's hands kept trembling. All she could think of was the front row seat to the Tosevites barbarism.

Now she knew all over again why the Race called them “Big Uglies”. They were ugly in every sense of the word.

Kassquit had no idea where she was going. She’d never seen combat back on the ship. Her, being trained like a fighting male? Laughable! Even being counted a proper citizen of the Empire wasn’t a given with the other researchers. Now she found herself wishing she had asked to train and risked the eye turrets waggling in disapproval. She’d been so busy being a peaceful, productive citizen – more so than the others – that the thought never crossed her mind. Neither had her life before this prepared her for splashing through dark, clearly unsanitary puddles of water, some sort of algae floating on the surface. Kassquit charged through it anyway.

It seemed like hours before she couldn’t hear any more of the other Big Ugly voices or scuffles behind her. In reality it was probably only minutes, she told herself, only to start when a foot up ahead kicked at a can and sent it rattling across the floor toward her. Kassquit's hands clutched at the black stick, white-knuckled. What she wouldn’t do for proper claws!

[intermolecular]

Vivian was alone.

She hadn't been, at first. The first few moments had been a heady rush of adrenaline and blood, hazy and powerful. She'd come away with a knife but little else, and though she had blood on her face she knew it wasn't hers. (It was never hers.)

She walked with a strange resoluteness through the darkened concourse, peering into old, decrepit restaurants, corner stores... She imagined a pair of friends, sitting there, at the table, and smiled softly to herself. It would be a perfect, quiet moment, here.

She ran her fingers over a rotting chair and carefully sat down in it, eyes tracing over the concourse, checking carefully to see if she could spy anyone.

What was the point of fighting people to the death if one didn't have friends?

[bellabellabella]

Edward's eyes were a bright, burning gold, as he leaned into an indentation in the crumbling brick wall - something that had probably been decorative at one point, to house the crumbling pillar laying in pieces. Hopefully it had been decorative. Hopefully it hadn't been structural. Normally it wouldn't have been a problem, but if the venom-laced blood running down his arm was any indication, this situation was anything but normal. The thought almost made him laugh - as though how weak he was was the only indication that this situation wasn't normal. Either way, he needed a few minutes to try and assess the situation, and this was as good a point as any to stop.

There was a knife in his hand, gained a few moments after it had been used against him (it was lucky that it wasn't a bad wound, but the fact that it was there at all was still shocking to the point of alarm). Blood - human blood, this time - was also on him, though luckily there wasn't much. Even now, wherever and whenever he was, it made his throat burn with venom. That pain, at least, was bearable enough, numbed through familiarity.

Edward wondered, briefly, if this was hell. It was no more than he deserved, after all, but it was still an odd fit for any of the commonly agreed upon descriptions.

"The land of tears gave forth a blast of wind,
And fulminated a vermilion light,
Which overmastered in me every sense," he murmured to himself - the words were somewhat comforting themselves. He was still himself, still remembered-

"And to a place I come where nothing shines."

[onthedot]

It had been a conscious, deliberate decision to avoid the cornucopia at all costs, to take the reckless violence as a good opportunity and run. Peggy wasn't foolish. She damn well could have used a blunt instrument to protect herself, but she wasn't about to start this thing injured. They had stripped them of everything before hand, but they couldn't take her sense of self-preservation.

She had been British Intelligence for God's sake, she's had to work with far inferior prospects than this and by and large stranger. The dim lighting was going to wreak havoc on her eyesight but it was good enough to know where she was headed.

Food and a base camp were necessary and every good soldier knows war makes for strange bedfellows. She was going to need an ally. And if any of the strangers she'd been given a chance to study were as well trained as they appeared they would also avoid an immediate blood bath in favour of foraging.

[notanywhere]

Between the open area surrounding the cornucopia and the darkness below, Akane had quickly decided to stay among the shops. It may not be the safest area, she suspected many others had escaped here, but she could at least be aware of her surroundings in a way that wouldn't happen in the dark below. She had taken up residence behind the counter of some derelict convenience store. Or so she assumed from the rusted metal stands and busted freezer she found there.

Well, she had temporary safety. The next question would be protection. She had no provisions or weapons, not that she was really considering getting into fight at this time. She just didn't want to have to bank on an attacker being caught off guard by her age. There are always some who don't hesitate in killing an old woman.

Finding nothing of use in the surrounding area, Akane risked exposing her position by standing to see if the grate above the counter still worked. If she could pull it down it would at least be able to hole herself in.

FIRST LEVEL TRACKS

[gamemakers]

Re: FIRST LEVEL TRACKS

[not_a_songbird]

He had not been among those forced to mine for Ming in the Black Tunnels, but Vultan had heard the tales from his brothers who had. And this - this he imagined what it had been like.

The stench, the crushing darkness. No sky, no air.

The possibility of one's death, just around the corner.

He paused in the dark and took a deep breath, steadying himself with thoughts of his people. Their strength.

They had survived the tunnels. He, their chief, could survive this.

Re: FIRST LEVEL TRACKS

[nunpunching]

Punchy's already shirtless. Not because it's hot, but because he is (hah, hah). If the point of the Games is to be entertaining, Punchy's fairly certain that all the time he spends doing situps and pushups will pay off with some audience appreciation.

He trips over the tracks while he goes, catching himself on his hand. He's already somewhat beat up - he got a slice on his ear at the Cornucopia, even though he wasn't fighting. Now his palms are cut up too. He slings his shirt and hoodie over his shoulder and rests against a wall, eyes adjusting to the dim light.

This is all silly. Everyone got so hopped up into killing each other so quickly. No one even bothered to protest with...civil disobedience, which offends him somewhat, because he's totally a fan of whatever that guy was who advocated not doing what you're told by evil corrupt governments that throw you into death matches in grody train stations. Someone must have written that at some point. Someone famous.

After a moment to catch his breath, he starts walking along the metal bar of the track, as if practicing his balance.

Re: FIRST LEVEL TRACKS

[psykick]

Rinka kept the nightstick she'd snatched from the Cornucopia expanded as she walked along the tracks. She would have felt more comfortable with two of them, but until she could steal one off another Tribute, one would have to suffice.

She made her way slowly down the tracks, wondering when the dim, flickering lights overhead would finally go out. Probably when she least wanted them to. That's how things usually went. But right now, she just wanted to find a safe place to hole up and rest, preferably in a maintenance closet rather than next to the tracks.

SECOND LEVEL TRACKS

[gamemakers]

come at me

[notquitekalish]

She had fought and won a crowbar, although a blue bruise marred her temple. It didn't matter because now she had one more means of survival. While the others explored their surroundings, Sikozu headed straight to the bottom determined to find a way out of this hell. These games or whatever the people of this world called them was not something she wanted to play. Sikozu was no pawn.

It was dark in this area. Nearly pitch black and no matter how hard she tried not even the slighted bulb of energy could be called forth from her hand. Cruel and powerful, always a dangerous combination. She kept an ear out for her fellow competitors while running her hands along the walls, certain that she could find some way to escape.

:|a

[shambler]

Today he has nothing to show for his shuffling around. Nothing. Zip. R supposes he did get a lot of shuffling in at the very least, but when the floor opens up under your feet and nearly dumps you on your head, even that's easier said than done.

He picks himself up out of the dirty water. Scum slides down his face as he weaves back to his feet. How he didn't land on his head and turn really dead is beyond him. Getting shot, he can take. That feeling of the ground being suddenly gone, though...not his kind of thing. It's almost enough to make him shiver.

R ignores the black drool oozing out from when he bit off part of his tongue on the way down. The zombie checks and...yeah, there it is, another bit of dead flesh rolling around in there; given his unlifestyle, it's only a matter of time before he's dropping more chunks than that. He leans to the side, spits it out, and goes right back to shuffling, his feet splashing in the water. A rat skitters away squeaking in rage. R thinks he's hungry, but he's not sure yet.

All he knows is today isn't yesterday or the day before. With the Living killing each other, it means his food source is dwindling. R shuffles a little faster.

what am i doing

[drpsychosomatic]

His heart was pounding. Having seemingly lost his attacker in a blacked out section of the tunnels, he crouched in the darkness and pressed fingers to his left temple, grimacing as they came away wet and sticky with blood. He knew he'd been cut, but he hadn't realised just how badly- the wound was surprisingly deep. He only hoped the knife he was clutching desperately in his hand had been worth it- having a weapon was going to be very little use if he found himself fighting off an infection, or too weak from blood loss to do anything with it. He already wished he'd had the foresight to go after something with a little more range, though the knife did have more than one use.

As carefully as he could manage in the dark he cut off the right cuff of his hoodie's sleeve, wadding it up tightly and pressing it to his head to stop the bleeding. Working out what had happened could wait. First, he'd have to find a defendable position and supplies...

...but there were footsteps in the dark. He stilled, completely, and did his best to keep his breathing quiet.

[tis_allgood]

Cuthbert would have done anything for a good gun, but you play the hand you're dealt and that was exactly what he intended to do. He had made a good run for a knife but missed out on the other supplies he needed. It wasn't much of a hardship, as long as he had the knife he could kill anyone and anything he wanted.

He was hiding in the shadows now, silent and focused. Two rats had found out the hard way how serious Cuthbert was taking this, and so would the next person to cross his path.