Places to Chat
Hunger Games RP!
Chatterbox: Inkwell
Hunger Games RP!
Hunger Games RP!
All right, I'm sorry, I know the Inkwell is rather overcrowded. But none of those RPs are really to my taste, and this has been nagging at me for days.
May I introduce.... the 35th Hunger Games!
So, yes, nothing really special about this. Just a normal Hunger Games, with normal tributes, and a normal arena. If we want to do a rebellion, we can, but please be willing to sacrifice your characters.
Quick few rules:
-OPS ARE A NO. Seriously, it's no fun when one of the tributes is an eighteen-year-old person from District 7 who can kill you with one throw of an axe or just with brute strength. Realistic. Please.
-Don't say you killed someone unless the character is not controlled by someone. Maybe the creators of the charrie had a special death all planned out, and we don't want to ruin it. This is a form of god-modding, which I would prefer to be kept to a minimum. A bit of it is okay, just to keep your RPs from becoming one-liners, but those big descisions, wounds, killings? Leave that to the creator, please.
-Make sure you can see all posts before posting. Just to make sure we don't have two female tributes from District 1 or something.
-Two charries max. Considering, one might be better, but if you have a special pairing planned (like me) that's okay. And I would prefer that they were both from the same district...
A bit of other stuff:
THE ARENA: The Cornucopia is at the tip of a small but very steep mountain. The tributes are place farther down around it. On the left is a deep woodland, on the right a field with a creek running through the middle-- the woods has creeks, too, though.
I was thinking we would start the RP the day of the reaping.
Okay! The boring stuff is over! Charrie sheet:
Name:
Age:
Appearance:
Personality:
District: If it isn't well-known or defined well, such as District 6 or 5, mention it here.
Weapon of Choice:
Skill: Just briefly describe your charrie's fighting abilities.
Gender:
Backround:
Other:
My charries:
Name: Lucelle Marvinforth
Age: 13
Appearance: She has red hair down to her waist and a few freckles on her nose. Her hair is up in a ponytail when doing work, but down the rest of the time. She's about average size with green eyes.
Personality: Sweet, she gets distracted a lot. A very determined and hardworking person.
District: 6, transportation
Weapon of Choice: She'll find she's all right with a sword, but heavy stuff like hammers and wrenches are better.
Skill: Not very good. She has okay upper body strength from a lot of working and (willing) labor, and good with heavy things that could be weapons, but not much else.
Gender: Female
Backround: Her mother (dead) was an Avox, and she inherited the muteness, although she does have a tongue. She grew up in a one-story house with her father, where she developed a love for trains, which was what he did for a living. When she turned ten, she started to help out in the factory where he worked, and was soon welcomed as a full-fledged member. She was homeschooled, because one who couldn't speak wouldn't do so well in a public school. That, and the fact she had been determined "mentally unstable," although she only retreated into her own dim wispy world when she was alone.
Other: One of her only friends is Rick, featured below...
Name: Richard (Rick) Thompson
Age: 15
Appearance: Short black hair and olive black eyes. His eyebrows are unusally thin, with a rather soft face. He's stocky but not very tall.
Personality: As kind as he looks, and quite patient, but with a nasty streak for revenge. It's hard for him to get over a grudge...
District: 6
Weapon of Choice: Something heafty, like a club or axe.
Skill: Moderate. His natural build gives him the upper hand, but he doesn't have experience like Lucelle.
Gender: Male
Backround: His parents were on the poorer side but old friends of Lucelle's father, and he pretty much watched her grow up from birth. While he didn't have the natural talent of engineering like she did, he tried to help out at the factory with her when he could.
Other: N/A
Okay! If I missed anything, let me know!
Let the 35th Hunger Games begin!
submitted by St.Owl, age Recarnated, Everywhere
(December 8, 2015 - 7:35 pm)
(December 8, 2015 - 7:35 pm)
@ Cho I think you can join but is there any particular reason that you haven't read of watched The Hunger Games yet?
Legolas says mymh. My ma? Did you even have a mom Legolas?
(December 15, 2015 - 4:48 pm)
@Elvina, No. Not really. I just haven't asked if I can read the books yet. I would like to.
@St. Owl, thanks for the info chart! Here is my charrie. I'm going to throw in a little bit of variety.
Name: Ariana Levine
Age: 13
Appearance: Long curly golden hair, brown eyes, pale skin, fairly short for her age.
Personality: Sarcastic, quick with her wits, does not care for the idea of the Hunger Games. She's quite tough for someone from District 1. She seems really snotty and mean, but she's actually very nice.
District: Surprisingly, 1.
Weapon of choice: Bow and arrow. Is okayish with hand to hand combat.
Gender: Female
Background: Was spoiled since she grew up in District 1, but she never liked anything about the world she has grown up in.
Skill: Good, for District 1, but not so good compared to the other tributes.
(December 18, 2015 - 10:55 am)
OK, Cho, here's the basics you need to know:
The Hunger Games is something thrown by the Capitol every year. It's in the country of Panem, which is basically under tyranny. Annually, each district does a Reaping, where a Capitol citizen chooses one boy and one girl from a glass ball to go into the Hunger Games, where these children from the ages of 12 to 18 are forced to fight to the death until one victor remains.
Each year, the amount of times your name is put into the Reaping Ball is added one. When you're 12, it's one slip. 13, two. 14, three, and so on. You can also apply for Tesserae, which gives you three extra entries per year. All entries are cumulative, so if you got three Tesserae when you were 12 and three when you were 13, you would have nine entries when you're 13. Tesserae give you a meager year's supply of oil and grain for one person.
There used to be 13 Districts in Panem until the Dark Days (the first rebellion), when District 13 was eliminated. The Districts:
Capitol- Basically the lapdogs. They live off the Districts and are spoiled. The Hunger Games is partially for their entertainment.
1- Luxury Items. Also a Career (a group of Tributes) District. It is said to be the wealthiest besides the Capitol.
2- Masonry. Also a Career district, and support the Capitol most fully. Some Peacekeepers (kind of like very harsh policemen) come from District 2.
3- Electronics.
4- Fishing. Also a Career district.
5- Power.
6- Transportation.
7- Lumber.
8- Textiles (clothing).
9- Grain.
10- Livestock.
11- Agriculture. Also a very poor district, a lot of people are (ironically) starving, and the Peacekeepers are very harsh.
12- Coal. It's known as the poorest district.
(December 15, 2015 - 7:20 pm)
Oh, what the heck, I'll start.
~Gena~
I do not admit anything.
This is for two reasons: firstly, I am not weak-willed enough to break under interrogation, no matter how many people are interrogating me or who they are; secondly, I am not stupid enough to get caught in any malfeasance I would have to admit to in the first place.
However, I also do not know what it is about The Hunger Games that tends to send logic flying out the proverbial window. Therefore, I have an unknown variable. Unknown variables, more often than not, breed exceptions to every rule, including those most basic ones of rationality.
And so it is that, on the occasion of Aubrey de Silpa's absurdly amplified voice calling out my name at the climax of the Reaping, I shall admit to being scared.
The Hall of Justice is full to the brim with people, every single one of them staring openly at me. I am not used to this ice in my gut, these leaden weights dragging my feet to a shuffling near-standstill; I have not felt anything like this since I was eight and first learning to climb utility poles. Aubrey's attire this year is a yellow so bright it almost hurts the eyes- ironic, really, to visit the district of power in a dress that looks like it could shoot off sparks at any moment. Only my natural poise saves me from curling in on myself in a most undignified manner. As it is, my hands might be shaking. I can't quite tell.
"Ladies and gentlemen of District 5, may I present this year's Tribute Girl, Gena Silver!"
Aubrey's left hand clutches my right in a viselike grip and raises it high above our heads. The cheering is instantaneous, though I know most of them cheer for fear of the Peacekeepers, or else due to simple herd intelligence. The Tribute Boy, Courante Anashee or something like that, is on her other side. We eye each other: he looks a rather burly fifteen, unkempt sandy hair, face still bearing traces of baby fat, just as shell-shocked as me. His forehead creases into a slight frown as he looks me over, likely taking in something along the lines of "sixteen or seventeen, dark brown hair in a tight bun, short and skinny, angular face, absolutely petrified." His worthiness as an opponent remains to be seen, but at least he's not totally insensate.
With all the abruptness of a striking neon cobra, Aubrey drops my hand and faces Courante with a blinding grin. "So, darling, I daresay you've just become the most famous little boy in the District," she chirps. Aubrey always calls tributes "darling" or "my dear" or something equally nauseating. "Tell me, how does it feel?"
Courante's face turns beet red -- a shy one, then. He mumbles something into the microphone jabbed, swordlike, into his face by our predaceous Escort, which echoes around the Hall as "Don' like peeble don' wanna die." My thoughts exactly. I allow myself a wry little smirk.
An instant later, said smirk is wiped off my face as Aubrey turns her chartreuse scrutiny to me. "That's great, dear. Now, what about you, sweetheart? When you heard your name called, when you realized you'd soon be a star for all of Panem, what went through your pretty little head?"
Somehow, I manage to assemble a coherent reply. "At that moment," I state coldly, "I was thinking that if I do not by some miracle keep a cool head, then this 'star of Panem'-" I draw quotes in the air with my fingers- "will go supernova." One hand makes a bursting motion, expressively.
Aubrey gives a tittering little laugh that is ever-so-slightly fake. Good, I've unbalanced her. No Escort expects to hear a tribute talk freely about death. "Of course, dearie," she simpers. "We wouldn't want you eliminated too early. People are counting on you, you know!"
As if. I nearly snort in derision, but then my roving gaze falls upon a pair of faces in the crowd. Faces I know all too well. My snort gets sucked back, inverted into a badly stifled gasp.
My parents are watching too. But it is not my mother's visage, the picture of inexpressible sorrow, that stays with me as Aubrey calls "Happy Hunger Games!" and Courante and I are shunted off the stage, into a waiting vehicle. It is my father's.
His look, the last look I suppose I shall ever receive from him, was one of absolute hatred.
I now know for certain that I go to my death, for even if I win the Games (which I do not expect), he might kill me anyway.
Despite the warmth, unseasonable for this time of year, I shiver.
************
Anyone who wants to run Courante may do so if they like, and change him to your heart's content. I'll be introducing other "NPC" tributes as I go along; the same applies to them.
(December 17, 2015 - 10:32 pm)
Oh, wow, Curio, your writing is amazing!
Oh, and I lied. Lucelle can go into her world after a very elaborate emotion.
Lucelle~
My father goes to the Peacekeepers every year to make sure I don't do what I'm doing now.
Every year, they say no.
His case is always the same. I can't speak. I've been determined mentally disoriented and that hasn't changed. I've been excused from school. Why can't I be excused from the Hunger Games?
Every year, they say that some laws can't be broken.
My father went to the Justice Building every day for a week, pleading with them, even the mayor, but they said no, no, no, no. No. And it isn't fair, it just isn't fair, although most things about the Hunger Games aren't fair. The other thirteen-year-old girls around me probably don't think it's fair. Those burly eighteen-year-old boys on the other side of the platform in front of the Justice Building don't think it's fair. And here I am, a mute girl of the second youngest catagory, watching Bonnie Falcon in her bright green dress and big poofy yellow hair digging her five-inch-long nails into the girls' reaping balls.
The talons snag a slip.
And those bright-blue lipsticked lips read out the name so slowly I feel like I'll explode from the tension....
It's Lucelle Marvinforth.
I almost expect myself to slip away, and I don't do anything to keep a hold on the world. But for some reason, it stays steady as my legs lead me nubly up onto the stage. I don't recall telling them to move.
On the way up, I see Rick, his black eyes flashing with both terror and anger, and I know that if he could he would have volunteered for me in an instant. But he can't. I'll say goodbye to him in a moment, anyway. I look away.
"Well, dearie!" says Bonnie, grinning away. "Don't be shy! Step right on up! Now... any volunteers?"
The square is as silent as the grave.
"Very well then!" says the escort, patting my shoulder briefly before moving on to the boys' ball. I can feel her nails digging into my skin.
She puts her hands so far inside the ball I'm worried it will overflow. Her nails grab what must be the slip on the very, very bottom, and she painstakingly extracts them, reading, "Richard Thompson."
And this time, the world really does melt away, away, away, into swirling mist and clouds until she is gone, and the crowd is gone, and I am gone, and everything is gone, gone, gone into this white smoke....
Rick~
I knew she was going to fall before she fell, and I sprinted rather than walked up to the stage. I don't care if my brand-new coat gets crinkled or my tie loosens, I just need to get to Lucelle before she hits the floor.
I catch her in the nick of time, her white-dressed, writhing body falling into my arms. I keep it there, knowing it pointless to stand her back up.
"She needs morphling," I say softly, knowing the only cure to bring her back to earth. "She needs morphling!" I say louder, and Bonnie scurries off the stage.
I know she isn't going to fetch the drug, and I know that all cameras are, for the moment, pointed directly at me. What must it look like, to the Capitol, these two tributes practically embracing? Or at least showing signs of closeness? At the moment, I really don't care.
I don't care about me either, really.
All that occupies me at the moment is the fact that this fragile girl is going into the Games.
(December 18, 2015 - 4:37 pm)
Lark - As I stand in the crowd of twelve to eighteen year-olds I think about my chances of getting chosen. I look up at the stage, at the two balls that hold the names of so many children and my name. Lark Anders. The lady who is choosing our names ( I can't think of a name for her) reachs into the ladys ball and fingers about five slips of papaer before settling on one. She draws it out and says " Ladies and gentleman This years female tribute is....Lark Anders! Please give her a round of applause. "
I stand rooted to the spot with fear. I just got chosen For a certain death. " This has to be a dream "I franticly think, but it isn't and I am escorted up to the stage where i stand dumbly like a statue.
The boy is chosen but I don't even look at him. The lady grasps our hands and pulls them above our heads. Half the crowd cheers but some stay silent. " Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be ever in your favor."
We walk down to a car that takes us to a train. Once I am escorted to my room I sit there and stare out the window, ignoring everything and everyone.
Sorry it is so short.
Legolas says rhub ! Almost a word Legolas!Good job!
(December 18, 2015 - 3:34 pm)
TOP the halls with boughs of TOPly,
TOPTOPTOPTOPTOP TOPTOP TOP TOP!
'Tis the season to be TOPly,
TOPTOPTOPTOPTOP TOPTOP TOP TOP!
TOP we now our gay TOPparel,
TOPTOPTOP TOPTOPTOP TOP TOP TOP!
TOP the ancient TOPtide carol,
TOPTOPTOPTOPTOP TOPTOP TOP TOP!!!
(December 23, 2015 - 8:48 pm)
On Scylla, on TARDIS, on Cho and Elvina!
On Abigail, Danie, St. Owl and Brookeira!
To the TOP of the porch, to the TOP of the wall,
Now TOP away, TOP away, CBers all!
(December 23, 2015 - 8:58 pm)
Fibonacci TOPs:
TOP TOP TOPTOP TOPOTPTOP TOPTOPTOPTOPTOP TOPTOPTOPTOPTOPTOPTOPTOP
Square number TOPs:
TOP TOPTOPTOPTOP TOPTOPTOPTOPTOPTOPTOPTOPTOP TOPTOPTOPTOPTOPTOPTOPTOPTOPTOPTOPTOPTOPTOPTOPTOP
Digits of pi TOPs:
TOPTOPTOP . TOP TOPTOPTOPTOP TOP TOPTOPTOPTOPTOP TOPTOPTOPTOPTOPTOPTOPTOPTOP
Yeah, I'm a math geek. TOP, in any case. ;)
Koda says kkvk. Wow, Koda, you really like k's today.
(December 27, 2015 - 8:32 pm)
I have to quit this RP. I only want to commit to one RP at a time, and the other one I'm in is one I joined before I joined this one.
So.
(December 28, 2015 - 4:19 pm)
Okay, I have now read book one, and am about halfway through book two. Ariana should already be good since she's been trained all her life. Oh well. Let the games begin!
Ariana ~ I stand in the crowd of other kids, my heart pounding. I don't want to get picked! I don't want to die like my sister! "Alright! Let's see who's picked for District 3's female tribute!" Arwen shrieks happily. My mind goes blank, only thinking please not me. "Ariana Levine! Come on up honey!" Great.
I can't let anyone see that I'm afraid. Especially not my parents. "Honor your sisters memory!" She's dead! Nothing can stop that! Especially not once I'M dead! "Any volunteers?" Arwen's voice cuts through my mind like a knife, silencing my thoughts. I want to scream at her, Nobody is going to step up for me! My only sibling is dead! "No? Okay! Moving on!" She says cheerfully, giving me a big fake smile.
"And the male tribute for this year is . . . Thrawn Erken!" Oh joy. Thrawn has hated me ever since we first met. He'll enjoy killing me. Now I know how who's going to kill me. Great comforting thought.
As Thrawn joins me up on the podium, Arwen quickly, (and artfully) grabs our wrists. "Happy Hunger Games y'all, and may the odds ever be in your favor."
(January 2, 2016 - 2:28 pm)
Cho, it's been years since I read Hunger Games- we used to have a copy, but I can't find it anywhere. What do tributes do first after they get to the Capitol? If you get back to me soon, I might be able to write before next weekend.
(January 3, 2016 - 8:56 pm)
Curio: They have a few days to prepare for the first event, a big parade where they dress up to represent their district and ride through a square on chariots. Then they have training for a day or two where there are numerous places to learn combat and survival skills. And, lastly, they have an interview with Caesar Flickerman where he basically asks them questions about themselves.
(January 4, 2016 - 4:51 pm)
Ariana ~ I sit in the Justice building, waiting for my parents to come to say farewell. I almost doubt they will. The door swings open, my parents standing in the doorway, both of them dressed even more fashionably then usual. My mother's long blue hair sways in the breeze as both her and my father glare at me disdainfully. My mother did down next to me on the couch I was sitting on before they came in. She "kisses" me on my cheek before whispering fiercely in my ear, "Remember, honor your sister." I nod as she jerks her head away.
"Sorry we can't stay longer dear, we have to get back to work." My mother says, laying her head on my father's shoulder. His green hair matches beautifully her blue hair. As if they have to go back to work. More like to another feast with their friends; in order to celebrate my death.
~~~~~~An hour later . . .
I climb into my chambers on the train, hoping for some time to relax by myself. I take a quick shower, and dress myself in a petite red dress. I rather think it compliments my hair. I step out of the room, ready to come to supper.
(January 3, 2016 - 4:54 pm)
@Curio, I had to look it up too. Anyways, after they first try out their outfit with their stylist, and then do the chariot thing.
Ariana ~ I find myself standing, looking at a couple of outfits, my stylist Ran hovering at my shoulder. "So? Which one do you like best?" She prompts causally. I look through them. I hate all of them. Except for one. It's a small, sweet white dress, made out of a shimmery material. Silver beads fleck the collar. "This one." I say firmly, pulling it out.
"That one?" Rana asks incredulously. "Yes." I say fiercely. "Alright. It's just-it's so plain." She says. Sure. It's definitely plan compared to you with all those golden tattoos lacing all over your face and hands. And your gaudy green and red feathered dress. Ugh. No thanks. I do NOT want to look anything like my mother.
(January 4, 2016 - 4:54 pm)