Stephanus "Stephen" Reagan (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
capitolprivilege) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2015-04-27 11:04 pm
capitolprivilege) wrote in thecapitol2015-04-27 11:04 pm
I get dizzy when I think of all the ways we try to hide our maladies [OPEN]
Who| Stephen and anyone who isn't actively participating in the break-in!
What| A big, big party to celebrate the soccer match, and also to celebrate Stephen being much less of a disgrace than he was. This is the party that made it into Celebrus, people. The Capitol elite is invited, and so is anyone involved with the Games! ...except for the people Cyrus crossed off the guest list behind Stephen's back.
Where| An event hall in the Capitol
When| Backdated to the Binding plot, the night of the break-in.
Warnings/Notes| Capitol gilding-over of atrocious things. Disney-ified portrayals of the Districts. Avoxes being used as furniture. And what you bring with you.
For having such a short time to plan it, Stephen and Porrim have really outdone themselves. The event hall is round, with a hallway leading to a large, circular, central room and smaller rooms ringing the outside. The main area is half ballroom, half dining area: the dance floor is off to one side, large enough to accommodate anyone who wants to dance, but with the lights low enough to make it feel intimate and un-intimidating even if only a few feel like dancing. The translucent mist that whirls around the area helps with the intimate atmosphere without impeding visibility badly enough to make dancing difficult. The other half of the room is round tables, kept clean and refreshed with food by wait staff who will bring the guests just about anything they ask for. The wait staff are all perfectly groomed, polite, and in possession of their tongues.
The decor is soccer-themed, but soccer as it would have been imagined by the ancient Greeks. Marble statues of athletes (clothed or half-clothed or with strategically carved folds of cloth) are tastefully placed around the low-lit room. The Greco-Roman aesthetic characterizes the whole room: carved pillars hold up the sound system and the tables, embossed vases whose figures are animated adorn the tables as centerpieces, and the wait staff is dressed in sporty chitons and peploses. It's Classically classy, but the sports imagery and the popular dance music that's muted enough in the dining area to allow people to talk make it informal enough to be comfortable.
At even intervals around the center room are twelve doors. Each one has a Roman numeral on it. Step through any one of them and it will take you to a recreation of the corresponding District that's both full of real props and holographic images. The technology isn't as good as Gamemaker illusions and certainly doesn't feel as real as the dream tech, but it can be interacted with, even if it doesn't "feel" real. You can "pick up" a dandelion in District 12 and blow its seeds away. You can run a hand through the water of a District 4 beach and pier and watch the ripples spread. Each District room has comfortable seating, themed food, and appropriately-dressed wait staff; there are even cast members re-enacting District life around the dining areas, giving each room a sense of authenticity. It looks, sounds, smells, and tastes like the District it's imitating, just -- better. Cleaner.
Oh, also, those who participated in the soccer game and won will be given laurel crowns made of solid gold.
District One is a balcony of a manor house, overlooking a perfect view of manicured gardens. You're not outdoors, but it sure feels like it. The tableware is sparkling gold, the chairs made of silky fabric that is a joy to touch but doesn't seem to stain, and being there will make you feel like a prince or princess.
District Two is clearly built into the inside of a mountain. There are broad, open windows, of course, letting in plenty of fresh air, and the walls and floor and ceiling are impeccably carved, but it's all made of natural stone. Outside, down in the valley, you can see Careers and Peacekeepers training.
District Three isa charred husk no, not at all, that would be tasteless. Three looks like Tron: Legacy. Glowing LED lines run through the walls and furniture, and it all looks so clean and spotless it can't be entirely real. The tables are angular, unnatural, and around the dining area are color-changing glow pools.
District Four is a broad pier that juts out from a beach into the ocean. The sand is real, but the water is not -- don't worry, you won't ruin your clothes if you fall in! The sun is setting, painting the sky beautiful colors, and there's no mistaking that sea-salt smell. Off to the side, attractive fishermen and fisherwomen work to bring in the seafood the Capitol enjoys so much. Rough-hewn but splinterless wooden tables and comfortable canvas chairs are on the pier, with an awning above to keep the sun off. Part of the pier is made of glass, so you can look down and watch the tiny fish as they swim around.
District Five is a power plant, but an elegant one. Lightning crackles across the walls and ceiling, leaping between metal rods in a dazzling display. But don't worry: it's not real. You can touch it if you want. It'll cling to your fingers for a few seconds before sparking out. The hum it makes is quiet and unobtrusive white noise.
District Six is lovely, if Stephen does say so himself. It's a series of luxuriously-furnished train cars, with realistic-looking, picturesque scenery rushing past that reflects the geography of all twelve Districts. The floor hums gently; it feels like you're really moving. In one of the train cars can be found one District 6 Mentor, Linden Lockhearst -- usually. He's been part of the party's marketing: he has promised to, at this party, disprove fortune-telling completely. Come talk to him! You'll be surprised at what he can tell you about you. ♥
District Seven is a tree house! It's about a hundred feet up in the crisp, pine-fresh air, affording a gorgeous view of the surrounding forest. Birds sing, deer frolic below, and stunningly attractive lumberjacks can be seen going past, hard at work. They're also very attractive. Look, Stephen and Porrim planned this party -- what did you expect? Go watch the lumberjacks. It's worth it.
District Eight is artistic. It's divided into sections, almost mazelike, with walls made of cloth, but it's kept from feeling claustrophobic by the fact that the ceiling -- also made of cloth -- looks like the sky. No, really. Clouds are scudding across it, blown in the same direction as the light breeze that flows through the room, keeping it from feeling stuffy. The cloth walls are similarly illusory: touch them and they feel real, but projected onto them are broad plains with great lakes not too far distant. The chairs and tables are all cloth and wooden frames.
District Nine is grain. It's hard to make grain interesting, but Stephen's given it his best shot. This is the room with the most open-air feel. Grain, amber waves of it, as far as the eye can see. There's a trick to this room: walk out into the grain, and you won't hit a wall. You're on a moving sidewalk that responds to you, and the holograms will bend to give the illusion of distance between you and the tables in the crop circle in the center of the room. D9's bigger on the inside.
District Ten doesn't have real farm animals. Goodness, no. Too unpredictable, and the smell would detract from the Old West charm of this room. The door leads out onto the expansive porch of a ranch house, where the tables are. It overlooks paddocks of horses and fields of gentle cows. Two or three playful but impeccably trained herding dogs are the only real animals here: they are impeccably clean and will only approach if you call them over. Their handlers in cowboy hats and jeans aren't far away, keeping a watchful eye. Somewhere, Wyatt Earp wants to die.
District Eleven is an idyllic orchard. The apples can be picked and eaten. You won't be punished for stealing food, because you're from the Capitol! Ha, ha. The wait staff is dressed as sexy farmers, with straw hats and coverall-shorts and plaid shirts artistically tied up, talking in easygoing drawls. It's all very charming, like it's right out of Song of the Goddamn South. This is some unfortunate fucking shit.
District Twelve is probably the most ordinary out of all the rooms. The feel is of small-town Appalachia. Coal miners with impressive arms can be seen going to and from work along dirt tracks that wind between the little houses, a man plays a banjo and sings a little ways off, and pine-covered mountains rise in the distance. The food is rustic but delicious: warm baked bread, goat cheese and strawberries, roast goose with herbs -- you wish you lived in this dystopia.
Oh, and one more thing... In the main room, there are statues that are dressed more classically. Togas, chitons, flowy robes, bangles, sandals -- they're holding trays of food, trays of drinks, baskets of bread and fruit, all classically beautiful, all with -- very realistic-looking hair and eyes, now that you're thinking about it -- oh god they're moving. Cyrus Reagan has been involved in the planning of this party from the start, and he'sBUTTED IN put a few of his own touches on it without talking it over with Stephen. Hand-picking Avoxes for their looks, dressing them up, and commanding them to stand perfectly still so they can be the tables, he felt, fit the theme perfectly.
What| A big, big party to celebrate the soccer match, and also to celebrate Stephen being much less of a disgrace than he was. This is the party that made it into Celebrus, people. The Capitol elite is invited, and so is anyone involved with the Games! ...except for the people Cyrus crossed off the guest list behind Stephen's back.
Where| An event hall in the Capitol
When| Backdated to the Binding plot, the night of the break-in.
Warnings/Notes| Capitol gilding-over of atrocious things. Disney-ified portrayals of the Districts. Avoxes being used as furniture. And what you bring with you.
For having such a short time to plan it, Stephen and Porrim have really outdone themselves. The event hall is round, with a hallway leading to a large, circular, central room and smaller rooms ringing the outside. The main area is half ballroom, half dining area: the dance floor is off to one side, large enough to accommodate anyone who wants to dance, but with the lights low enough to make it feel intimate and un-intimidating even if only a few feel like dancing. The translucent mist that whirls around the area helps with the intimate atmosphere without impeding visibility badly enough to make dancing difficult. The other half of the room is round tables, kept clean and refreshed with food by wait staff who will bring the guests just about anything they ask for. The wait staff are all perfectly groomed, polite, and in possession of their tongues.
The decor is soccer-themed, but soccer as it would have been imagined by the ancient Greeks. Marble statues of athletes (clothed or half-clothed or with strategically carved folds of cloth) are tastefully placed around the low-lit room. The Greco-Roman aesthetic characterizes the whole room: carved pillars hold up the sound system and the tables, embossed vases whose figures are animated adorn the tables as centerpieces, and the wait staff is dressed in sporty chitons and peploses. It's Classically classy, but the sports imagery and the popular dance music that's muted enough in the dining area to allow people to talk make it informal enough to be comfortable.
At even intervals around the center room are twelve doors. Each one has a Roman numeral on it. Step through any one of them and it will take you to a recreation of the corresponding District that's both full of real props and holographic images. The technology isn't as good as Gamemaker illusions and certainly doesn't feel as real as the dream tech, but it can be interacted with, even if it doesn't "feel" real. You can "pick up" a dandelion in District 12 and blow its seeds away. You can run a hand through the water of a District 4 beach and pier and watch the ripples spread. Each District room has comfortable seating, themed food, and appropriately-dressed wait staff; there are even cast members re-enacting District life around the dining areas, giving each room a sense of authenticity. It looks, sounds, smells, and tastes like the District it's imitating, just -- better. Cleaner.
Oh, also, those who participated in the soccer game and won will be given laurel crowns made of solid gold.
District One is a balcony of a manor house, overlooking a perfect view of manicured gardens. You're not outdoors, but it sure feels like it. The tableware is sparkling gold, the chairs made of silky fabric that is a joy to touch but doesn't seem to stain, and being there will make you feel like a prince or princess.
District Two is clearly built into the inside of a mountain. There are broad, open windows, of course, letting in plenty of fresh air, and the walls and floor and ceiling are impeccably carved, but it's all made of natural stone. Outside, down in the valley, you can see Careers and Peacekeepers training.
District Three is
District Four is a broad pier that juts out from a beach into the ocean. The sand is real, but the water is not -- don't worry, you won't ruin your clothes if you fall in! The sun is setting, painting the sky beautiful colors, and there's no mistaking that sea-salt smell. Off to the side, attractive fishermen and fisherwomen work to bring in the seafood the Capitol enjoys so much. Rough-hewn but splinterless wooden tables and comfortable canvas chairs are on the pier, with an awning above to keep the sun off. Part of the pier is made of glass, so you can look down and watch the tiny fish as they swim around.
District Five is a power plant, but an elegant one. Lightning crackles across the walls and ceiling, leaping between metal rods in a dazzling display. But don't worry: it's not real. You can touch it if you want. It'll cling to your fingers for a few seconds before sparking out. The hum it makes is quiet and unobtrusive white noise.
District Six is lovely, if Stephen does say so himself. It's a series of luxuriously-furnished train cars, with realistic-looking, picturesque scenery rushing past that reflects the geography of all twelve Districts. The floor hums gently; it feels like you're really moving. In one of the train cars can be found one District 6 Mentor, Linden Lockhearst -- usually. He's been part of the party's marketing: he has promised to, at this party, disprove fortune-telling completely. Come talk to him! You'll be surprised at what he can tell you about you. ♥
District Seven is a tree house! It's about a hundred feet up in the crisp, pine-fresh air, affording a gorgeous view of the surrounding forest. Birds sing, deer frolic below, and stunningly attractive lumberjacks can be seen going past, hard at work. They're also very attractive. Look, Stephen and Porrim planned this party -- what did you expect? Go watch the lumberjacks. It's worth it.
District Eight is artistic. It's divided into sections, almost mazelike, with walls made of cloth, but it's kept from feeling claustrophobic by the fact that the ceiling -- also made of cloth -- looks like the sky. No, really. Clouds are scudding across it, blown in the same direction as the light breeze that flows through the room, keeping it from feeling stuffy. The cloth walls are similarly illusory: touch them and they feel real, but projected onto them are broad plains with great lakes not too far distant. The chairs and tables are all cloth and wooden frames.
District Nine is grain. It's hard to make grain interesting, but Stephen's given it his best shot. This is the room with the most open-air feel. Grain, amber waves of it, as far as the eye can see. There's a trick to this room: walk out into the grain, and you won't hit a wall. You're on a moving sidewalk that responds to you, and the holograms will bend to give the illusion of distance between you and the tables in the crop circle in the center of the room. D9's bigger on the inside.
District Ten doesn't have real farm animals. Goodness, no. Too unpredictable, and the smell would detract from the Old West charm of this room. The door leads out onto the expansive porch of a ranch house, where the tables are. It overlooks paddocks of horses and fields of gentle cows. Two or three playful but impeccably trained herding dogs are the only real animals here: they are impeccably clean and will only approach if you call them over. Their handlers in cowboy hats and jeans aren't far away, keeping a watchful eye. Somewhere, Wyatt Earp wants to die.
District Eleven is an idyllic orchard. The apples can be picked and eaten. You won't be punished for stealing food, because you're from the Capitol! Ha, ha. The wait staff is dressed as sexy farmers, with straw hats and coverall-shorts and plaid shirts artistically tied up, talking in easygoing drawls. It's all very charming, like it's right out of Song of the Goddamn South. This is some unfortunate fucking shit.
District Twelve is probably the most ordinary out of all the rooms. The feel is of small-town Appalachia. Coal miners with impressive arms can be seen going to and from work along dirt tracks that wind between the little houses, a man plays a banjo and sings a little ways off, and pine-covered mountains rise in the distance. The food is rustic but delicious: warm baked bread, goat cheese and strawberries, roast goose with herbs -- you wish you lived in this dystopia.
Oh, and one more thing... In the main room, there are statues that are dressed more classically. Togas, chitons, flowy robes, bangles, sandals -- they're holding trays of food, trays of drinks, baskets of bread and fruit, all classically beautiful, all with -- very realistic-looking hair and eyes, now that you're thinking about it -- oh god they're moving. Cyrus Reagan has been involved in the planning of this party from the start, and he's
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"Well... if you want to get really technical, you did, and I just picked up on it. I'm not a psychic, remember?" Linden asks, tone blase.
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"Not a psychic," he confirms shortly. "But there's that entitlement of yours rearing its head. I'm a performer, not a servant. You could say 'please.'"
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