Panem Events (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
etcircenses) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2014-10-10 08:11 pm
etcircenses) wrote in thecapitol2014-10-10 08:11 pm
Entry tags:
- aang,
- albert heinrich,
- black tom cassidy,
- cassandra marko,
- clara murphy,
- commander shepard,
- event: crowning,
- harley quinn,
- jet link,
- molotov cocktease,
- roland deschain,
- sam wilson,
- sigma klim,
- terezi pyrope,
- the grand highblood,
- the signless,
- ✘ alex murphy,
- ✘ aragorn,
- ✘ azula,
- ✘ bro strider,
- ✘ brock samson,
- ✘ bruce banner,
- ✘ bucky barnes (mcu),
- ✘ carlos the scientist,
- ✘ clementine,
- ✘ cyrus reagan,
- ✘ dale "barbie" barbara,
- ✘ dave strider,
- ✘ davesprite,
- ✘ gary epps,
- ✘ homura akemi,
- ✘ joel,
- ✘ jolie,
- ✘ justine 'locusta' florbelle,
- ✘ kankri vantas,
- ✘ kenny mccormick,
- ✘ korra,
- ✘ lyle norg,
- ✘ mindy macready,
- ✘ nasir,
- ✘ natasha romanoff (mcu),
- ✘ nico di angelo,
- ✘ nill,
- ✘ oswald mandus,
- ✘ pruna,
- ✘ raphael,
- ✘ ringabel,
- ✘ ruffnut thorston,
- ✘ sif,
- ✘ skye,
- ✘ sollux captor,
- ✘ stephanie rogers,
- ✘ stephen reagan,
- ✘ steve rogers,
- ✘ tess,
- ✘ thor odinson,
- ✘ tony stark,
- ✘ venus dee milo,
- ✘ zuko
The Crowning Of Clara Murphy
Who| Everyone.
What| The Crowning of Clara Murphy
Where| A refurbished former-medical building within Capitol.
When| Starting from late afternoon, going into the evening and late night.
Warnings/Notes| Don't forget, peacekeepers are on high alert and will notice any rebellious activity or odd behaviour.
The theme of the ceremony is corruption and dystopia, with a distinct nod to futuristic aspects and, of course, robots. The room is stark, clean, and foreboding, all done in metallics, crisp whites, and the occasional bit of robotics set up as art. It speaks as an unholy cross between a medical office, a military base, and an extremely well kept prison.
The ceremony is both a chance for Capitolites to have fun and be grateful for the grand and glorious Panem which in no way exemplifies any attributes of dystopia, while also working as a not so subtle reminder to the troublemakers out there of what can happen when things get out of line. Which they surely won't, with all the peacekeepers around.
Tributes are dressed in all manner of thing incorporating chains, rope, caution tape, muzzles, bars and cages, prison stripes, and uniform orange-- all things reminiscent of imprisonment and restriction. Some tributes may be made to look scuffed up, like cartoon-ish depictions of hardened thugs. There are a few references to robotics, and that of evil and corrupt military men and police officers, but all tributes will be marked by some manner of cuff or chain that clearly denotes them as “criminals”.
They’ll also be given a “prison number” that is actually indicative of their district association and an arbitrary letter next to it, for example, someone from district six will have 06 and the first letter of their name. It will be temporarily tattooed somewhere visible on their skin. It can be washed off but it will take more scrubbing than would be done in a single day, let alone a crowning.
The only exceptions to these rules, are those who have been brought to the winner’s table; all those who can be deemed as cyborgs, scientists, and of course, the victor herself. Her throne sits at the head of the table, a robotic contraption that appears almost as though it might encase her. For a crown, Clara has been given one that seems to bear resemblance to a white picket fence, which, when made into a crown, looks far sharper than the idyllic home setting it’s meant to represent.
Avoxes are all dressed as members of the corrupt Detroit military police. The uniforms are naturally given a more sinister edge. None of them are comfortable. All of them are serving “Detriotto” staple foods.
Around the crowning, flat hologram projections of hockey games can be seen. They show the games of a team called “The Rouge Wings” and alternate that with the less spectacular showings of what appears to be a young boy’s hockey team. Commercials fill the times between promoting the work of Capitol’s peacekeepers, showing appreciation for them on an individual level, encouraging obedience in citizens with pleasant clips of peacekeepers speaking to children, and suggesting recruitment in the truly good and noble of Panem. Capitolites may nod along to these as they giggle at the sight of decorative signs, that are most certainly from Clara’s lesser world, about obeying, consuming, and so on, to a less than favourable government. A few posters feature Clara Murphy’s face in four colour palettes, all humorous jabs at dystopia proclaiming; “MOTHER MURPHY IS WATCHING YOU”.
But hockey games are not the only things that can be seen on the projection screens; if tributes take the time to look, they may see their own face projected above in profile and facing forward views like that of mug shots. Though, how the capitol has managed to get these pictures may be entirely a mystery. Besides these mugshots, criminal records are displayed, listing crimes from “lied to their parents” to petty theft to murder. Whether these records are true or not may be up for much debate.
In the mean time, there are plenty of things for party go-ers to do, such as take part in the David For A Day egg and spoon race, in which tributes will all have a chance to dress up (with wigs and matching clothing of all sizes!) as the mysterious David, compete against others, and should they win, be dubbed David For A Day, winning themselves a banner they can wear and a spot at the victor table.
There is also an obstacle course available dubbed the "Clarence Boddicker Memorial Prison Funhouse" designed to look, you guessed it, like a prison. Fun for all ages and demeanours!
For those looking for retreat, there’s a small section cut away from it all, designed to be a pleasant backyard patio setting opened to a starry night sky and small surrounding garden, in stark contrast to the rest of the place. There’s a small area for dancing in, that can really only accommodate one couple at a time, but is nevertheless perfect for a romantic scene. Only two songs play over speakers here, one perfectly fitting, the other a little more jarring. It’s also here that party go-ers can get their picture taken with a life sized ED-209. Many more much smaller ED-209’s can be seen around and within the crowning party. As well as the occasional roomba, which fans of the last arena will surely get a chuckle out of.
As the crowning nears it’s end, those at the victor’s table will be given paintball guns filled up with red paint. They will be ordered to bring the criminals to justice! The criminals being all the other tributes. Those hit with paint will be made to wait within the Memorial Prison Funhouse until all the criminals are apprehended and forced to do their time! No one will be allowed to go back to the tribute tower until all the criminals are caught.
What| The Crowning of Clara Murphy
Where| A refurbished former-medical building within Capitol.
When| Starting from late afternoon, going into the evening and late night.
Warnings/Notes| Don't forget, peacekeepers are on high alert and will notice any rebellious activity or odd behaviour.
The theme of the ceremony is corruption and dystopia, with a distinct nod to futuristic aspects and, of course, robots. The room is stark, clean, and foreboding, all done in metallics, crisp whites, and the occasional bit of robotics set up as art. It speaks as an unholy cross between a medical office, a military base, and an extremely well kept prison.
The ceremony is both a chance for Capitolites to have fun and be grateful for the grand and glorious Panem which in no way exemplifies any attributes of dystopia, while also working as a not so subtle reminder to the troublemakers out there of what can happen when things get out of line. Which they surely won't, with all the peacekeepers around.
Tributes are dressed in all manner of thing incorporating chains, rope, caution tape, muzzles, bars and cages, prison stripes, and uniform orange-- all things reminiscent of imprisonment and restriction. Some tributes may be made to look scuffed up, like cartoon-ish depictions of hardened thugs. There are a few references to robotics, and that of evil and corrupt military men and police officers, but all tributes will be marked by some manner of cuff or chain that clearly denotes them as “criminals”.
They’ll also be given a “prison number” that is actually indicative of their district association and an arbitrary letter next to it, for example, someone from district six will have 06 and the first letter of their name. It will be temporarily tattooed somewhere visible on their skin. It can be washed off but it will take more scrubbing than would be done in a single day, let alone a crowning.
The only exceptions to these rules, are those who have been brought to the winner’s table; all those who can be deemed as cyborgs, scientists, and of course, the victor herself. Her throne sits at the head of the table, a robotic contraption that appears almost as though it might encase her. For a crown, Clara has been given one that seems to bear resemblance to a white picket fence, which, when made into a crown, looks far sharper than the idyllic home setting it’s meant to represent.
Avoxes are all dressed as members of the corrupt Detroit military police. The uniforms are naturally given a more sinister edge. None of them are comfortable. All of them are serving “Detriotto” staple foods.
Around the crowning, flat hologram projections of hockey games can be seen. They show the games of a team called “The Rouge Wings” and alternate that with the less spectacular showings of what appears to be a young boy’s hockey team. Commercials fill the times between promoting the work of Capitol’s peacekeepers, showing appreciation for them on an individual level, encouraging obedience in citizens with pleasant clips of peacekeepers speaking to children, and suggesting recruitment in the truly good and noble of Panem. Capitolites may nod along to these as they giggle at the sight of decorative signs, that are most certainly from Clara’s lesser world, about obeying, consuming, and so on, to a less than favourable government. A few posters feature Clara Murphy’s face in four colour palettes, all humorous jabs at dystopia proclaiming; “MOTHER MURPHY IS WATCHING YOU”.
But hockey games are not the only things that can be seen on the projection screens; if tributes take the time to look, they may see their own face projected above in profile and facing forward views like that of mug shots. Though, how the capitol has managed to get these pictures may be entirely a mystery. Besides these mugshots, criminal records are displayed, listing crimes from “lied to their parents” to petty theft to murder. Whether these records are true or not may be up for much debate.
In the mean time, there are plenty of things for party go-ers to do, such as take part in the David For A Day egg and spoon race, in which tributes will all have a chance to dress up (with wigs and matching clothing of all sizes!) as the mysterious David, compete against others, and should they win, be dubbed David For A Day, winning themselves a banner they can wear and a spot at the victor table.
There is also an obstacle course available dubbed the "Clarence Boddicker Memorial Prison Funhouse" designed to look, you guessed it, like a prison. Fun for all ages and demeanours!
For those looking for retreat, there’s a small section cut away from it all, designed to be a pleasant backyard patio setting opened to a starry night sky and small surrounding garden, in stark contrast to the rest of the place. There’s a small area for dancing in, that can really only accommodate one couple at a time, but is nevertheless perfect for a romantic scene. Only two songs play over speakers here, one perfectly fitting, the other a little more jarring. It’s also here that party go-ers can get their picture taken with a life sized ED-209. Many more much smaller ED-209’s can be seen around and within the crowning party. As well as the occasional roomba, which fans of the last arena will surely get a chuckle out of.
As the crowning nears it’s end, those at the victor’s table will be given paintball guns filled up with red paint. They will be ordered to bring the criminals to justice! The criminals being all the other tributes. Those hit with paint will be made to wait within the Memorial Prison Funhouse until all the criminals are apprehended and forced to do their time! No one will be allowed to go back to the tribute tower until all the criminals are caught.
no subject
Right now, it's hard to peg the fact that Dave is in a dystopian murderfest, because he's trying to make this night at least semi-enjoyable for Clara and a couple of other people. He's had plenty of brooding and sulking time alone, it's more comfortable to put on a casual facade while doing something righteous and ironic. Selfies. He's flicking through the picture's he's taken so far and there, in the very background of one, he swears he sees... Nope. There's no way. There's something disconcerting about seeing your own face twice in a photo, but when said face has all the telltale signs of being someone else, it's another layer of confusion that he can't explain.
So he's weaving around the crowds, making his way to the back and sparing a brief look of annoyance and confusion before he sucks it up and approaches this asshole he hasn't seen in ages. Himself. Only not really. Fuck this already confusing.
"Hey, swag machine." He calls out, trying to draw Davesprite's attention to him. "Nice legs." What a good ice breaker.
no subject
It's probably a comical sight to anyone who's never been a time-traveller, either in their current life or past life, ie: everyone else. Two dudes who were once the same dude but not anymore greeting each other like it ain't no big thing. Davesprite's wings lower (to the best of their ability in their bindings) so that he can peer over his shoulder at Dave, just before offering a tip of his chin in acknowledgment. Sup, real Dave.
Okay, the truth is, his threshold for mind-breaking bullshit was met, and then far exceeded, by meeting his not-dead-anymore older brother. At this point, it's just easier to turn off the brain before it turns into a drooling pile of shit.
"Shit yeah. But are you really surprised? I mean, it's not like I was going to settle for anything less than fucking awesome. Got feet like goddamn kayak paddles."
He's almost tempted to look down at Dave's feet, as if to compare, but he doesn't. Comparing yourself to yourself -- it sounds kind of stupid.
no subject
Seriously though, it's just all the more reason to steel himself from having a reaction beyond apathetic. He doesn't want to grant the Capitol anything juicier than a quirked eyebrow for their trouble.
"Sure, sure. I wouldn't be surprised if they're like titanium lined for that extra pinch of whoop ass." This Dave, however, can't help himself. He tilts his head down to look between their feet, raising one of his just a few inches up idly before placing it back down. "I'd say you'll get used to it, but well..." He shrugs. "Hate to break it to you, but you'll never be a dancer. Might wanna check if they made them both left of something."
no subject
"Damn. And there they go, all my hopes and dreams of being a Broadway star, swirling down the toilet like a dead goldfish..."
He crosses his arms.
"So, clearly, we're famous. What I want to know is where are all of the hot bitches serving us chilled AJ in frosted champagne flutes."
i'm so sorry for the huge wait 8(
"I dunno, they're always casting trees. Trees don't dance, just ask Groot." He lifts his head to scan for the massive tree, but his focus is quickly back to Dave. "And if all else fails you can just go balls out crazy and become one of those struggling artist types who yells at kids until they can pirouette off the Eiffel Tower in some grandiose fucking ensemble. Maybe in the end you step up to the plate and show them all how it's done and you'll have never known true happiness until that exact moment."
He polishes off the extended metaphor with a curt nod before quirking a brow at the question. "I'm famous, you're fresh meat. You need to die a few more times before they start catcalling. Besides, it's not as unlikely as you think, dude. People will develop any sort of fetish here, birds might be the new bdsm." That was a terribly helpful thing to say. "Just don't catch anything nasty and embarrassing. Don't want to rash up those new stilts before you really break them in."
it's okay! <3
To anyone inevitably watching -- and likely from the comfort of their homes, it seems -- it's probably more than a little amusing how Davesprite's own brow quirks like some kind of fucked up mirror image. "Die a couple times, huh? Guess that puts me shit out of luck considering my nixed chances at acquiring conditional immortality. Might as well start working on my mating calls."
no subject
"Everyone is pretty much shit out of luck at this point." He retorts. "Dying a couple of times is just the icing on the turd cake, you've also gotta strut around the Arena flexing and acting like tough shit until someone inevitably takes you out. We're up against assassins, apocalypse survivors and ninja turtles, yo." God, this sounds depressing. "Food isn't always shit, though. You get your own room. Personal Stylist to invade your privacy. And just between you and me, the bitches are well and truly fine." He nods along with his own points, but his shoulders fall just slightly. "But it still fucking sucks."
no subject
"Dude..." Yes, please. No style is worth this much shit. "It's like the avian equivalent of wearing the wicked witch of the west's pointed stilettos. These boots were not made for walking and whoever thought they were can kiss my feathery ass."
He glances away, not waiting for Dave to make the first move to remove them. On one hand, it would be hella awesome if he could stretch them out. On the other hand, he doesn't really want to cramp Dave's style either. "What happens when you win?" As if to emphasize his point, he gestures with his head to the Victor's table.
no subject
"Didn't anyone tell you beauty is pain?" He asks, shifting around Davesprite so he can start to fiddle with the straps as discreetly as possible. Some of it looks hopelessly hard to open, but he's finding keeping his hands on a task is making this whole horrible situation easier to work through.
"You get out." He says plainly. "No more Arenas. You get a themed party, exhibit A. A crown. You become a mentor of your district, so you just kind of strut around and advise people on how not to die. There's probably a whole lot of insufferable PR involved too." He flicks open a belt, but there's more to go. "It's kind of defined by resting on your laurels."
no subject
"Missed that day in class." Most of it is hopelessly hard to open, with overlapping straps that seem more tangled up than the cables beneath the IT guy's collection of unnaturally-advanced computers. His shoulders roll slightly when some of it comes loose, cracking a little, and he mutters a faint thanks, dude.
"So, if I'm hearing this right, what I get out of this is you basically become a tapdancing media monkey for a bunch of assholes who regularly bathe in glitter and hairspray."
no subject
"Yeah. It's a real choose-your-own adventure deal. You're overloaded with the option of either dying or living long enough to undergo the metamorphosis it takes to be one of the local enslavement butterflies." He's really sugarcoating it for him. "Honestly, it's the only reason I didn't waltz in and win day one. Or any day, really." Yep. That's it.