etcircenses: (Default)
Panem Events ([personal profile] etcircenses) wrote in [community profile] thecapitol2014-10-10 08:11 pm

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.
tookthewheel: (Ain't nothing but a tool)

[personal profile] tookthewheel 2014-11-17 05:02 pm (UTC)(link)
His gaze goes back to his arm. What is it but a weapon? That's why they gave it to him, so he could fight, so he could kill without issue. Bucky finds he doesn't want to share that fact though and keeps it to himself.

"Not all machines are made to be weapons."

It's about all he can think to say.
elfstone: (you are the nighttime fear)

[personal profile] elfstone 2014-11-19 08:44 pm (UTC)(link)
"You are right," says Thorongil, but it doesn't sound like he's conceding the point. "I have seen many machines here that are not weapons. Yet they seem to me outnumbered, or at least outweighed in importance, by the machines the Capitol turns to ill purposes. After all, is not the Arena one great machine? I hear that is how it works, for they say it is not magic but technology." The word is unfamiliar in his mouth.
tookthewheel: (Default)

[personal profile] tookthewheel 2014-11-25 11:30 pm (UTC)(link)
Bucky takes a few moments to consider this before having to give Thorongil that one.

"Machines work by the hand that operates them." Bucky has been that machine, that gun, that knife. He has been the weapon in the hands of those that would commit terrible deeds through no will of his own.
elfstone: (never knew daylight could be so violent)

[personal profile] elfstone 2014-12-05 08:22 pm (UTC)(link)
"But an evil hand may work more misfortune with a machine than without one," Thorongil counters.
tookthewheel: (Baby blues)

[personal profile] tookthewheel 2014-12-13 08:26 pm (UTC)(link)
Pierce, he thinks, and probably other men before him. Bucky stares down at his left arm for a good thirty seconds, curling the fingers inwards and connecting Thorongil's words to himself all too strongly. Not just the arm, to himself as a whole.

"That is correct." he finally says, struggling to find the words to convey what he wants to communicate next. "If a machine... does that potential mean that there should be no machines? Even if they could do good otherwise? Machines can feed, heal, protect."
elfstone: (a revelation in the light of day)

[personal profile] elfstone 2014-12-30 09:17 pm (UTC)(link)
Thorongil gives the matter thought. "You ask a question without an easy answer," he says. "Is it better to be content with a simple life, or to have a machine that may improve lives or destroy them depending on its use? The answer, I suppose, must lie in how much one trusts the hands that will work the machine."

He gives a shrug; he knows that others here may well disagree with him, and that coming from a simpler time, his perspective may be different.

"I imagine some machines are harder to turn to evil than others. Still, one must trust every hand that touches the machine from beginning to end. If but one saw not good but opportunity, or perhaps feared that his neighbors might turn their machines against him..."

He trails off, shaking his head. "Knowledge in itself is not evil. Knowledge of the land feeds; knowledge of medicine heals; knowledge of the past teaches. But some things should never have been made."
tookthewheel: (Sound of silence)

[personal profile] tookthewheel 2014-12-30 10:23 pm (UTC)(link)
Tap. Tap. Tap. Metal fingertips tap the table one after another, a quiet sign of agitation before Bucky stills them.

Inside his head he's trying so hard to reason with the thoughts that Thorongil is sharing with him. He's wondering how hard it was for HYDRA to turn Bucky Barnes to evil and if someone hadn't seen opportunity would his bones be lying still at the bottom of a ravine in the Swiss Alps, where they couldn't be used to hurt anyone. If, if the Winter Soldier had never existed would the world be better?

Your work has been a gift to mankind, HYDRA had not believed they did evil but good and they told the Soldier as much. He'd believed it as much as he could believe anything until the day he broke/was broken free.

"No, they shouldn't have." he agrees at last and pushes himself back up to his feet. Bucky looks down at Thorongil and nods to him before moving to stride off back into the crowd.
elfstone: (and I'd do anything to make you stay)

[personal profile] elfstone 2015-01-03 09:53 pm (UTC)(link)
AS Thorongil watches the stranger go, he can't shake the sense that what he had said had been upsetting. He cannot think of why; the discussion had been cordial enough, and nothing he had said had applied to the man's arm. Thorongil leans back in his chair, leans an elbow on the table, and brushes the back of his fingers over his mouth thoughtfully as the other man disappears, leaving unasked questions behind him.