gamemakers: (yay.)
The Gamemakers ([personal profile] gamemakers) wrote in [community profile] thecircus2013-02-03 04:22 pm
Entry tags:

TEST DRIVE ARENA 002

Photobucket

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.

Photobucket

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.


Photobucket



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.

Photobucket

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.


Photobucket


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...

Photobucket


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
orestes: (on my street)

[personal profile] orestes 2013-02-05 10:25 pm (UTC)(link)
The practically inhuman sound that called back to him is enough to make make Enjolras' suspect his imagination had actually run away with him. But if this were a hallucination, it was an exceptionally vivid one, which gave him no reasonable reaction but to press on. His brow furrows as he tries to muddle through the simple words. The events of the last twenty-four hours have been enough to make him wish he'd given half the mind to foreign languages that he had to politics. Alas.

And then the words make sense all at once. Shoot, fire, well, if he had his carbine he might've considered it, but at present, whatever it was lurking in the shadows had nothing to fear from him. If anything Enjolras felt that perhaps he should be the one displaying more obvious apprehension.

"Ne vous inquiétez pas," he raises his hands, one empty, one clutching a brittle-looking piece of rotted wood debris, up in the air; a (hopefully) universal sign of peace and, not surrender, but at least temporary truce. "Je suis sans armes."

Taking a step forward, he tentatively edges into a spot in the tunnel slightly better illuminated than the rest. It was incredibly possible that such a move would prove fatal, but if there chance that this... Presumably a man, could be an ally, he had to take it. Group organization would be the key to figuring a way out of this situation if there was any to be found at all. "I... No gun."
shambler: (009)

[personal profile] shambler 2013-02-05 11:31 pm (UTC)(link)
This doesn't seem to be working. The words mean nothing to R. They do him as much good as trying to read does, just squiggles and sounds. You think he'd be used to nothing, being a zombie and all. Sometimes it frustrates him. That he can still feel frustration after all these years surprises him on some level. Feeling anything at all, even bits and pieces? He grabs onto those when he can.

Finally the other Tribute says something in English, R latching onto that for now. Does he mean he won't use the gun or he doesn't have one? If he doesn't have one, that means R's odds have jumped and jumped a lot, that hollowness in his stomach spreads to his bones and stiffened muscle, tempting him with a thought, an instinct. The urge leaps up. R licks his dry, perpetually chapped lips as he considers attacking this man. He'd feel admittedly better if he had a proper horde with him though. Safety in numbers. Hard to feel as lonely with a horde.

R gives another swaying lurch closer. His movement sends the slimy water rippling back toward Enjolras.

"Good," he rasps. "Guns...not fun."

Shakespeare he isn't, but if anything, the zombie is being entirely truthful. The longer he debates it, the more he starts liking the idea of attacking his Living man. Who knows when he'll get to eat again if the other Tributes keep killing each other off before he can? As R closes in on his prey, his hands curl themselves into claws. He had no idea who this man is. He'll find out once he gets his teeth into his brain. All R knows is he thinks he can take him if he doesn't have a gun.

Or an axe. Or a crowbar. Maybe he should've asked if he was armed at all - that wood plank he's holding doesn't look very sturdy but you never know.

It's already too late to be thinking about weapons when R is already charging right for the Tribute. He'll try to make this fast and merciful. He'd like to say he'd make it clean, too, but that's a lie.
Edited 2013-02-05 23:38 (UTC)
orestes: (suddenly I'm lost)

[personal profile] orestes 2013-02-06 02:47 am (UTC)(link)
Oh, well. That hadn't gone nearly as well as he'd hoped. Enjolras is quick to step back when the lunging starts. He's open to a truce, to becoming allies, not to allowing himself to be killed either by bludgeoning or... Good god, this thing (it truly was a thing, apparently) is trying to bite him. He felt the adrenaline he'd been attempting to tame earlier, rise.

"Arrêtez! N-no!" dirty water sloshes around him, wetting the legs of his jeans and making his movements more awkward. Even so, Enjolras is no slouch, he'd just anticipating evading the infantry, not someone so rabid. Assessing the situation, he raises the piece of wood defensively, level with R's chest. He breathes, in and out, regaining his composure bit by bit and facing his attacker with a proud, almost haughty affect.

"We can work..." He starts, wanting to make one last attempt. Extend the proverbial olive branch until hes absolutely sure there's just nothing to be done. But in that moment, he catches a glimpse of the other Tribute moving through the darkness and the words fail him. His mind, usually so calculating, goes blank and he's transported by the surrealism of his current predicament. "... ensemble."
shambler: (006)

snap sorry for the edits, typos D:

[personal profile] shambler 2013-02-06 07:53 am (UTC)(link)
Unlike Enjolras, R is a slouch. He does what he does best and slouches at the Living man like it's going out of style because the thing he wants most is to tackle him down in the water where he can't get good footing and take a few bites out of him to quiet him down.

He finds himself wishing the man would keep babbling away in that other language. It'd make killing him easier if English didn't keep sputtering out.

"Maybe after," R moans. He could try to convert him, hold back long enough for this Tribute to revive. Maybe make a promise. But it's easier said than done when the hunger makes your eyes go right to the money spot, staring at the point smack in the middle of the human's forehead like it's a blinking neon sign. It's a promise he can't keep.

This time he guns for the Tribute right out of the shadows, the rusty overhead lamps spurting on and casting them in a cone of light. From here he can see the human's wide eyes, his curly blond hair that's long enough for any zombie to reach out and tangle their fingers into for better grip, the rotting wood board registering like an afterthought. R grabs at the Tribute with his teeth bared, exposing his blackened gums and his dentist's nightmare less than a foot away. Sorry, buddy.
Edited 2013-02-06 08:18 (UTC)
orestes: (haven't you been there for me?)

no worries :)

[personal profile] orestes 2013-02-06 11:04 am (UTC)(link)
The lack of suitable footing in the dank tunnel makes things treacherous. He slips, somehow, the efforts to avoid R becoming too awkward to negotiate in the poor light and slimy, crumbling terrain. But while he might not have minded dying a dignified death by firing squad, or otherwise expire during an insurrection, being eaten alive (which is apparently this man's intention) is truly and wholly terrifying. In a last ditch effort, he throws his weight forward, trusting in the wooden board to act as at least some sort of deterrent.

Zombies as a concept are utterly foreign to him, and Enjolras doesn't waste time to consider that one bite (or even a stray bit of saliva) from the undead creature gunning for him could render his entire act of resistance futile. It's probably better that way. Ignorance of the odds stacked against someone can usually substitute for genuine form of courage. With all of his weight, and the board shielding at least part of his body, he surges forward. If he can incapacitate this man, stun him at least temporarily, he could make a break for it and maybe live long enough to avoid being dismembered before his seemingly inevitable death.
shambler: (003)

[personal profile] shambler 2013-02-06 11:23 am (UTC)(link)
For a moment, R is convinced he's got this when he sees the human go down in a splash of dirty water. His prey's hands slip against the rubble. The zombie looms over him with his corpse's face washed out in the flickering lamps.

The board surprises him when it smashes into his neck.

His howl turns into a gurgling wheeze as his windpipe is partially crushed, although that doesn't stop R from trying to snap at Enjolras over the wood. It's the principle of the matter, really. You crush my windpipe, I rip out your nose. That kinda thing. One of his arms is pinned with the board, the wood groaning dangerously close to splintering as R struggles to fight his way past it and get to his meal ticket. Aside from eating his brain, a zombie can't get closer to living, to connecting then when he gets this close to dinner. Even though he's something of a freak among the other Dead, R can't deny feeling that too. Usually he has backup though. Backup would've solved this problem.

R continues to push up against the Tribute and throwing his weight at him like brute force is all anyone needs. His other free arm tries to reach out over the board to snatch anything he can.