Quick Fix Game 5: The Hunger Games!

[Metacognition he/him]

"Just remember Wilson's advice when everything starts."

Dam's advice echoed through her head as she and her brother met Kam. The first time that he had said it, she had stuck her tongue out at him and rolled her eyes.

 

Dam may not have been the brightest bulb in their district, but he was loyal when it came to his family and she had no doubts that he would've volunteered in an instant if he hadn't been picked. She constantly poked fun at him, but, when she was being honest with herself, she looked up to her big brother. He was tall and strong and good-natured and... reliable. That was the best word she could come up with for him. 

 

She, on the other hand was like quicksilver; constantly changing. She had been strong and confident during the Reaping, but the second she got on the train, she ran to her room, crying. 

"Mommy," she whispered longingly as her tears were soaked up into a pillow softer than anything she had felt before. 

 

She hated how she went along with these games. She hated that she would likely never see her mother again, thanks to them. She hated District 5. She hated this bed. She hated how she had, somehow, made her brother get picked. But most of all, she hated herself. 

 

She wasn't as strong as Dam was. He was there because of her, even if he had been picked, and here she was, ignoring him to wallow in her own misery.

 

She didn't stop crying until she felt Dam wrap his arms around her. 

"Shhh," he said. "I'm here for you, little Ohms."

 

His nickname for her, since she seemed to resist everything. 

"We'll be okay. We'll make it through this, I promise."

 

So now she stood there, holding onto that promise, as Kam detailed out how he would make them shining stars; barely holding back the flood of emotion she kept bottled up. 

"Yes," she thought as Kam swept through idea after idea, only picturing them as they were now. "Yes, we'll make it through this- or at least you will, big brother. You deserve as much."

Edited December 17, 2014 by Metacognition

[Eolhondras he/him]

Quick question peng, what happens to an item when the person holding it is killed? My gut reaction was the killer gets it, but seeing as there can be multiple killers, I'm not so sure.

 

edit: Or for example the muts or dehydration kills someone with an item.

Edited December 17, 2014 by Eolhondras

[Wyrmhero he/him]

WHO IN THEIR RIGHT MINDS VOTED WYRM FOR PRESIDENT!?

 

I feel absolutely offended by this. I would be an entirely positive influence for Panam. Under my rule, we would see bigger Hunger Games, with more interesting and different landscapes, and with better looking contestants than this rabble as well (no offence guys). With me in command, the District people would be renamed Skaa and know their place. We should not tolerate their upstart behaviour. Perhaps we should even have smaller, monthly or even weekly Hunger Games. We can sell T-shirts with peoples' favoured contestants on, there could be Hunger Games trading cards, collectable memorabilia from previous Games... Marketing, that's the way of the future. ...What was I talking about again?

 

Incidentally, Peng, is his second name Bradley?

 

I'm not going to be signing up for this game though (and therefore shall not post again here), as I have rather a lot of stuff that I have to get on with now my game's finished.

Edited December 17, 2014 by Wyrmhero

[Lightsworn Panda he/him]

Incidentally, Peng, is his second name Bradley?

 

That Fullmetal Alchemist reference. Have an upvote.

 

Sadly, I'll have to resign from this Game, since I'm going to be going somewhere without Wi-Fi (again, unfortunately). Looks like this is going to be the first game I'll not attend since my joining. 

 

Edit: Once the games starts, could you send me the Spectator Doc, Peng? Thanks.

Edited December 17, 2014 by Lightsworn Panda

[Peng the Just he/him]

Quick question peng, what happens to an item when the person holding it is killed? My gut reaction was the killer gets it, but seeing as there can be multiple killers, I'm not so sure.

edit: Or for example the muts or dehydration kills someone with an item.

The items are split randomly amongst the attacking parties. The mutts count as an attacking party. If they would get an item from a kill, it is lost to the arena . If the player was killed by dehydration, the items are lost to the arena

EDIT: another rules clarification: PM rules regarding alliances ARE in effect now even though the game hasn't completely started.

Edited December 17, 2014 by jasonpenguin

[A Joe in the Bush]

Do Killing Mutts count for total Kills?

 

And Newan, I will join you in killing the horrid Mutts.

[Peng the Just he/him]

Do Killing Mutts count for total Kills?

 

 

Hmm.. How 'bout half a kill? I suppose beating the crap out of some mutt gets you some credit with the sponsors, but not as much as for a fellow tribute.

[Mailliw73 he/him]

Are there going to be sponsors for real that can give items?

 

Are we going to wait for 24 people or are we setting a deadline to start with whoever is available?

[Peng the Just he/him]

Are there going to be sponsors for real that can give items?

No, afraid not. I thought about having people in the spec doc voting to help people, but I didn't want their whims to affect the game.

 

Are we going to wait for 24 people or are we setting a deadline to start with whoever is available?

We'll start when we have 24 people or when I feel that we're not going to get anymore signups. The game should start before Christmas for sure.

[Ashiok]

But it would add to the authenticity (Spec doc giving sponsory things)

[Peng the Just he/him]

I see your, point, and I think it might be cool. It also might encourage more role play if people are trying to tell a good story to attract sponsors. A lot of my worry is that I don't want to turn this into a popularity contest, or a writing contest for that matter.

[dominic1994 he/him]

The last few days had been the longest of his life yet Dom couldn't actually remember anything that he had done. He had moved in a daze, pushed and dragged and ordered around. From his home he had been put onto a train. That journey had seemed to be endless. Dom hadn't eaten, or slept, he'd barely been aware or where he was, what he was doing.

 

He was here now. Wherever here was. It was the end of the road Dom knew. He didn't know whether he'd even make it into that arena. He felt like just giving up, perhaps he already had.

 

The terror and the bloodshed, the chaos, Dom had seen it before but that had been others, people he didn't know. And while he had always recoiled at the horror of it, he was one of the lucky ones. He had never been chosen.

 

Yet here he was, waiting for the end. Dom knew, deep inside him, that his end was near but he couldn't face it. He couldn't really be here. No, he couldn't be here...

 

The voice in his head was still there, had been throughout he journey, ever since he'd volunteered. It was louder now and getting louder with every hour. It urged him to listen. It was telling him to stand up, to fight. To embrace; to savour the bloodshed, the violence, his own death.

 

The voice was calm. It was confident. It was getting louder and Dom could no longer block it out. More and more his thoughts turned to letting the voice in, letting it take control. Maybe he should start to listen.

[IcyNinjaPenguin]

Sounds fun! Sign up ice. She is a tribute from district 6.

[Peng the Just he/him]

Alright, everybody. Sign ups have pretty much stopped. Game will start and sign ups will end tomorrow night! Happy hunger games and may the odds be ever in your favor. In the mean time, feel free to role play your interviews. Standard interview questions:

1)what went through your head as your name was chosen (or you volunteered)

2)wat do like most about the Capitol?

3)why will YOU win the hunger games?

Edited December 18, 2014 by jasonpenguin

[Gamma Fiend he/him]

Dam sat with his back straight and his chin held high as he regarded the crowd in front of him, half-blinded by the glare of all the lights focused on him at the moment. The crowd. The faceless, restless crowd. Never happy enough, always wanting more, cheering, watching, waiting.

He suppressed a shiver, remembering where he was before finally answering the question he was asked. "What do I like about the Capitol?" Nothing, he almost said, but remembered where he was again and smiled instead. "The air is just so clean!" He took in a deep breath to demonstrate. "I never even noticed until I came here!"  He was going to appear strong and confident. Not for his sponsors. Not for his chances of survival. But for his sister.

The interviewee was a light-hearted fellow, obviously meant to help keep the tributes at ease leading up to the Games. And another big fat photo op for the Capitol, a reminder to all of the families still intact -- at home and watching on their televisions -- that it could have been them, but instead they get to watch a show. This year. 

But Dam didn't say any of that or let it show, of course. He bantered on with the guy, talking about how big the dam back at home really was -- which led to a confusing segment where somebody either said his name or swore, or maybe both or neither -- talking about his duties back at home and general nonchalant conversation. The guy was alright, but he could have had used a little bit more flair. Eccentricity. Dam at one point almost randomly suggested that the interviewee paint his hair a radical color, like orange or something.

And then he asked the question everybody was waiting for. The question Dam was trying to avoid being asked....

"Uhm, what about your sister?"

The lights and cameras spun into the corner, where Lil' Ohms was trying to shrink back into the shadows, away from the attention. He of course wasn't going to call her that. Not here. Not in front of everybody and publicized on television for the whole world to see. That was her special nickname, just for the two of them.

"I mean.... what can one say? What are the freak odds, the first year she's in the drawing? And then the two of us? Obviously it's just some sort of cruel joke." Dam winced at his slip-up, as he let his resentment show in his voice there at the end.

The interviewee just stared at him for a moment -- is that pity or sympathy I see in his eyes? Does it matter? --  and then hastily segued to a commercial before calling up the next tribute for their time in the spotlight, who happened to be Melinda.

Dam sighed. Kam was going to be furious. They never got around to talking about the outfit he had worn, a sleek, fashionable jumpsuit, reminiscent of the style of District 5 power plant uniforms. It was black and cut comfortably, with orange and other vibrant, hot colors for trimming, to emit a sense of power and electricity coursing through it. It even lit up if he pressed a certain button.

Dam had suggested the sound of a dam breaking and water rushing out to play, as some sort of grand entrance or exit type of thing, but Kam immediately shut it down as a little too.... slanderous. And in bad taste.

He walked over to Melinda  and gave her a big hug. "Your time to shine, Ohms."

Edited December 18, 2014 by Gamma Fiend

[Seonid he/him]

Niobe huddled in the corner of her room, shaking with fear. It was time for her to get up. Time to face the reporters, the interlocutors. The faces of her executioners.

 

No. That was failure speaking. She had never given up on anything before this, and she wasn't about to start now. She was a good woodsman, and she had practiced bow and knife against the possibility of being chosen as a tribute. She just hadn't expected the fear. The bone-crushing, soul-numbing fear. But she was in control. The tears stopped running down her cheeks as she stood and faced herself in the mirror. She quickly changed into the clothing she had picked out for the interview, a bright, almost neon green tube dress. Tight across the bust but flaring around the ankles, with a diamond cutout over her navel, the dress was made of some sort of layered silk that ruffled in the slightest breeze. She had almost considered getting a navel ring, but the possibility of infection from a new piercing was too real to be worth risking it. Not now, just days or less before the actual games started.

 

As it stood, the dress would be sufficient. It was bright and attention-grabbing, and if she acted flighty enough during the interviews, then she could pull off a dramatic change of character when she was actually put into the Games. Nobody would be expecting the garish, attention grabbing girl to be a woodsman and a fighter. She would show them. She would show them all.

 

*  *  *  *  *  *

 

The cameras flashed as she spoke with the interviewers. She felt like a different person under all the makeup, a cover over her tear-stained cheeks. She answered flightily, as if she was a brainless bimbo with no personality and less wit. Impressions. It was all about impressions. Don't let them believe you are a threat. The questions almost felt as if they were directed to an onlooker, not her.

 

What was her favorite part of the Capitol. "Oh, you know, the society." She giggled, a high-pitched simpering thing. "It's just all so glamorous, and all of these wonderful people. Why, just last night..."

 

What was she thinking when she was chosen. "Nothing much. I was just too excited to actually be able to visit the Capitol to even worry about the Games. I mean, I'm obviously going to win, so it's just a matter of going in then going back home." That was a bald-faced lie, and everyone watching would spot it. But hopefully, they wouldn't see the greater lie. The lie of tone. The deception that attempted to mislead everyone about what was hiding behind the obvious lies. It was all about art. The art of putting a face on in front of the world. And she was a master at that.

 

Why was it so obvious that she would win? "Because the sponsors love me, of course! Everybody knows that you just have to have a good relationship with the sponsors, and nothing bad happens to you!" She walked away as the flashes of cameras continued. Now to wait for the actual game themselves.

[Newan he/him]

"What went through your head when you were chosen?" the interviewer asked.  

 

'I'm finally free to be who I am,' Newan thought.  But it wasn't time.  He had to wait for the games before he could reveal himself for the monster he was.  "Um, I was like, scared and stuff." he said. 

 

"Scared and stuff?" the interviewer chuckled.  "What did you think?"

 

"I was like, oh no! I'm going to have to kill people.  That's so sad."

 

The interviewer arched an eyebrow.  He looked unimpressed.  

[the winter system]

Ignis stood on the stage, her gray velvet gown flowing around here.

"What do you think about being chosen?" The interviewer asked.

"Kill 'em with fire." Ignis smirked. "That is my name, after all." 

"Fire?"

"Ignis means fire in the Old Language." Ignis explained, sighing. "So, fire."

"Do you think you're a contender in this game?"

"A contender." Ignis mimicked. "I'm gonna win this so hard, you families should be preparing the coffins." Ignis smiled. 

[Peng the Just he/him]

Just to be clear, sign ups are OPEN still until midnight (mountain time) tonight. If you were thinking about playing, we would still love to have you.

Edited December 18, 2014 by jasonpenguin

[Metacognition he/him]

Melinda watched as Dam made his way through the interview. How was she, of all people, supposed to remained poised and in control like that?!

Kam had gotten a taste of her temperament when he had tried to stuff her into a dress. It had been a compliment to Dam's jumpsuit in all but utility. 

 

"...It looks like something that you'd put on a doll," she had thought when seeing all the lace and frills and fluff. 

 

So she had kicked him in the shins.

 

Kam was still walking with a limp when he had finally returned with a jumpsuit that was a mimic of her brothers, just smaller. 

 

The memory made Melinda grin ever so slightly until she remembered where she was and what she was about to do. That sobered her up faster than being doused in ice water. 

 

By the time Dam had finished and was walking off stage, she was shivering again. She was going to screw this up. She was going to rant and rave and cry and get herself killed because of it. The worst part was, that, if she did, she was likely going to bring Dam down with her. 

 

"Your time to shine, Ohms." The weight and strength of Dam's arms around her helped calm her a little bit, as he probably knew that it would. Well, it was her time to do something.

*

Afterwards, she didn't know why she had been so worried. She had managed to keep it together and answered all of the Interviewer's questions, even if she had been extremely terse and had sat there with her arms crossed, looking as if she was pouting the entire time. 

 

"What's your favorite part of the Capital?" 

"The lights that we provide you the power for."
"What when through your head when you were picked?"

"Shock."

"What went through your head when your brother was picked?"
"More shock."

 

By then, the Interviewer was obviously getting a little flustered, so he just skipped ahead: "So, ummm, why will you win the Hunger Games?"

 

She thought about telling the truth- "I won't, but as long as I can help make sure Dam survives, that's okay" -but decided against it. Instead, her thoughts returned home, to her mom; where both she and Dam should still be. For the first time in the interview, her mask was starting to break. Her eyes filled with tears and her lower lip started to quiver. She barely whispered out, "For Mommy." before rushing off stage.

*

Luckily, the audience loved it. They viewed her as an innocent little girl throwing a tantrum. They had started calling her and her brother "Shock and Awe." Dam was the Shock, from working in the power plants and she was the Awe. 

 

...She hated it.

Edited December 18, 2014 by Metacognition

[Mailliw73 he/him]

Just to be clear, sign ups are OPEN still until midnight (mountain time) tonight. If you were thinking about playing, we would still love to have you.

 

Is that when all the rollover times will be? 

 

EDIT:

Come on, people. No one's going to join me from 7? Mill's going to be a loner?

Edited December 18, 2014 by Mailliw73

[Peng the Just he/him]

Yes, that should be what rollover times are.

[Mailliw73 he/him]

So, do you guys think we should discuss if we'll be trying the cornucopia or not? 

 

Also, expect some RP later with the parade, training center, and interviews.

[Araris Valerian he/him]

I guess I'll join you Mill. Isana from district 7 is signing up because the Hunger Games are more exciting than her life at home.

[Mailliw73 he/him]

Yeah! A fellow 7.

As promised, Mill's RP:

Mill was not going to let these Games beat him. He had to, no he would win. Ma needed him. The Capitol couldn't beat Mill. Mill had the strength of District 7 in him. The spirit of the forest, the endurance of the trees, and the will of the people. He would come out victorious. He would survive. Willa would help him. She always had been the smart one; now Mill would need to start thinking like her.

Isana was a girl younger than him. He had never met her before, but had seen her around. He was kind to her, but knew that in the end, he would have to kill her. He would survive.

Their mentor was Lasie. She had won six years ago. She had been cunning enough to hide out from the Careers and wait until half the Tributes were dead before she looked for any of them. She had managed to grab a small axe from the outskirts of the Cornucopia before she ran and she had used it like only a 7 could. As soon as she had gotten a little ways into the forest, she climbed a tree quickly and waited.

By that night, six Tributes had been killed. She stayed away from others, only leaving the safety of the trees to collect water. She had survived off leaves and bark. She had ended with killing only two other Tributes. The last was a Career from District 2. He had been so frustrated that a tree girl had evaded him for so long that he recklessly went through the entire forest looking for her. He had found her. But by the time he had, an axe was planted in his head. Lasie had thrown it from the top of the tree, hitting him perfectly.

Evasion was the main tactic she recommended now. Mill didn't plan to play this game her way though. He would be vicious. He would survive. That was all that mattered. He recognized the cleverness of Lasie's strategy though, and intended to follow it when he could, but his bulk was better at felling trees than scaling them. Having grown up in District 7, he did know how to climb though. All 7s did.

When they had arrived at the Capitol, Mill and Isana had been dressed for their chariot ride. Mill was outfitted in a dark green suit, nicer than any he had ever seen at home. It was patterned to look like a canopy of leaves. The tie was a light green with a vine pattern. He wore a crown of woven branches on his head and a tan axe was embroidered on the back of his suit. The chariot, like most years, was covered in a tangle of leaves and branches. The two horses were a dark brown and were outfitted with their own headdresses of leaves. It was one of the better designs the District Seven chariot and Tributes had had. There was a new stylist this year. The old one had always dressed the Tributes up like trees. Mill had always been so embarrassed for his district when he saw the previous outfits.

Stoic and firm, he stood strong in the chariot, looking Capitol citizens in the eyes as he passed them, daring them to doubt. He wouldn't lose. He couldn't. His dark hair had been cut and styled in a strict fashion. Mill had requested that. He would show Panem that Seven was strong. Seven had spirit and would never back down. He had only the slightest makeup on, brown, of course, faint streaks around his eyes to give the appearance of wood.

When the announcer proclaimed his and Isana's names, Mill thrust his fist into the air and kept it there. He would be strong. For Ma.

***

The Training Center had been different than Mill had expected. Not only could you fight, but you could learn about plants and traps. He made sure to practice throwing knives and small axes, as he had never done so before. He showed the other Tributes his strength when he lifted weights. He dueled with assistants to work on hand to hand combat. With all that, he still made time to frequent the other stations. The trapping one had been interesting and Mill memorized one of the simple snares. He went once to the plants station, but learned that he already knew about most of the poisonous and healthy plants.

While at the Training Center, Mill scoped out those who would make good allies. He knew that he might need to start with some to survive. He would never fully trust them, and expected no less, but he realized the value of them. A couple of the Careers looked promising, but so did some of the other Districts' Tributes. A few he decided to stay away from until the very end. They would eliminate some competition for him.

***

Mill had scored a 9. He was proud. He had done it on purpose. He hasn't wanted to get a 12 and be too threatening, but he couldn't be seen as weak either. He had used an axe to brutally decapitate a couple dummies. He had shown his strength, but not done enough to get a top score.

***

At his interview, he wore a somewhat similar costume as he had in the parade. This time, the suit was a dark brown jacket with green accents. The pants were tan cargo pants that provided a sharp contrast to the fancy jacket. A silver axe was emblazoned on the front pocket of the jacket and a large green oak tree on the back. He wore a simple grey tee shirt under the jacket. The stylist had again chosen well. It showed the strength and utility of District Seven, while still maintaining professionalism. He wore no makeup, but his hair had been dyed to create a tan streak through the middle of the dark brown. He wore the heavy boots that were common in Seven. Willa's wooden wing pendant was around his neck.

The interviewer was a fool. Mill had decided that from the start with District One's female tribute. He pattered and was an idiot. When Mill walked out, he stood in front of his chair firmly, hands clasped in front of him. He nodded sharply to the man to begin.

"Please, take a seat," the fool said.

"I'd prefer not to," said Mill gruffly.

Taken aback, the interviewer stuttered a bit. He recovered quickly though. "Standing it is then." He decided to stand as well. "Mill Rennert, District Seven. What went through your head as you were chosen?"

"My Ma. She can't work and I need to provide for her. Without me, she'll can't survive. I will take care of her," Mill replied.

"Yes, we saw your valiant effort to speak to her before you came here. You must love her very much." Mill answered only with a nod. He needed the right balance of strength and tenderness. He wanted the audience to sympathize with him, while also believing he had a chance to win. "Why will you win the Hunger Games?" The interviewer continued.

"I have to. Ma needs me," Mill answered. It was as simple as that. He would win and he would survive. For Ma. Mill had seen how some of the other Tributes had handled the interview. Some were sarcastic, others friendly. Some rude and some nervous. Mill was none of those. He wasn't friendly, but he wouldn't be rude either.

"Last question. What's this necklace? It must have some significance."

Mill nodded. "It does. It was my sister's, Willa. She's dead now. These wings she wore are now going to lift me. I feel her standing right next to me, leading me on. Willa is how I'll win. I'll win with Willa and I'll win for Ma." He saw the faces of the crowd and knew he had done his job. He saw mixes of sympathy, surprise, and admiration in their expressions. "Thank you," Mill said looking to the crowd. The gratitude was superficially for the interviewer for getting to know him, but was really for the citizens out there watching. The people of Seven. Mill was thanking them for what they had taught him. He turned briskly and walked to sit with the other Tributes.

"Tribute Mill Rennert from District Seven!" The interviewer proclaimed as Mill walked away. Yes. He was Tribute Mill Rennert. But soon, he would be Victor Mill Rennert.