Welcome, welcome, everyone. :)
Details will be at the bottom after this prologue.
The Opportunity.
...
- The Capitol -
Head Gamemaker Minerva Bellum was finally alone.
"Now, we hear you've seen sneak peeks of this year's arena plan! Care to let us in on the secret?" Caesar Flickerman leaned in on-screen. His suit - midnight blue and glittering with miniature lightbulbs - shone even brighter under the stage lights. He'd started a gimmick during the 35th Games when he began his career as the Master of Ceremonies. Each year he chose a new color for his lips, eyebrows and hair, going through each color of the rainbow first. This year was the start of a new color-scheme, and Caesar had gone for white shimmer.
"He looks frozen, doesn't he? Like frost?" Minerva asked aloud. No one answered.
The Control Room was empty, devoid of the usual hustle-and-bustle of the Gamemaker team. Now the lights were nearly all switched off, the table no longer displayed a hologram of the arena, and shadows hid in the corners. Just the glow of the television screen and the laughter of the audience kept Minerva company.
Lucky Flickerman laughed as the audience cheered. "Well, I don't think I can give up that information!"
"Come on!" Caesar egged, winking a frosty-colored eye. "For your son?"
"Fine, fine, just for you!" Lucky laughed again. Even though he'd retired 7 years ago, he still looked nearly the same as he had back in the early days of the Games. Minerva had seen the recordings of the 11th Hunger Games, and the interviews that came before. She had studied all the Games like her life depended on it.
Minerva's lipstick-less mouth curved into a half-smile. Perhaps it does.
Her eyes flicked to the largest white chair where her predecessor had sat. Just a year before, he had barked orders to her and the rest of the Gamemaker team. After five years as Head Gamemaker, he'd grown too comfortable drinking too much posca. One day he'd had even more than usual, and, just like that, the carnivorous boar mutts got released into the arena too early.
"Ruined potential," President Snow had sighed to Minerva the next week in his office. "But you won't make the same mistake. Will you, Miss Bellum?"
"No, sir," she'd responded without a smile. "I'll do better."
President Snow had given her a white rose in return. He brushed a gloved hand through his wavy blonde hair that, after all these years, was beginning to get gray flecks. "Not just better. Impress me."
"I will." And so she set to work.
On the television screen, Lucky leaned over and whispered something to Caesar.
"Oh my!" Caesar said, widening his eyes in exaggeration. "We are in for a treat!"
The Capitol audience went berserk, laughing and demanding to know.
Caesar held up his palms. "I'm afraid my hands are tied! I think we'll all have to see in eight days when the tributes make their way into the arena!"
Minerva reached the silver remote up and turned off the television before the crowd could start squawking and begging for clues again. The room was nearly completely black now, lit by the glowing safety markers along the floor to the exit. She stood and brushed off her white lab coat. On her chest, the golden 'HG' pin sparkled.
"Eight days," she murmured.
The tributes would be be chosen tomorrow. It would begin all the way on the east coast of Panem. District 12 started the parade of selected children, and then 8, 6, 11, and so on. Minerva would be here in this room with the other Gamemakers, watching the Reapings and gathering data on all the tributes. By the next morning, the statistics for each district child would be shone in Ravenstill Square: photographs, age, height, weight, and - mostly important - their odds of winning.
Of the 24 tributes announced tomorrow, a victor would be among them.
And that night, Minerva would have to go up in front of Panem to an interview with Caesar Flickerman.
The tributes weren't the only ones playing a dangerous game.
"To success," Minerva said to herself. She turned to the seat where the former Head Gamemaker had sat.
What a waste, she had said after he disappeared. All the Gamemakers knew better than to ask where he had gone. They knew. He had so much talent, another Gamemaker had sighed in answer. They had misunderstood her. What a waste of a perfectly good opportunity, Minerva wanted to reply. But she simply smiled back.
The new Head Gamemaker turned from the Control Room and began to leave.
"Let the Games begin," she said to the silence.
The Technical Gobbledygook.
And now the information!
Hello, everyone!
I've been lacking some writing motivation lately, and SYOTs happen to be one of the ways that really makes me want to write. Something about having those parameters set by other creators that let me mold their character sparks inspiration. I would be very glad if you were interested in adding a character to this story.
If you're interested, please PM me for the SYOT/SYOM/SYOS form (I can PM you it or you can also find them on my profile) so that we can keep all the comments clean and ~spoiler free~ for now. After reviewing the forms, I'll accept some of them for the story.
Here are the form options. Feel free to just submit 1 tribute if you want, or 1 from each category, 2 tributes, mix-and-match a couple, anything you'd like. Just be sure to check the next chapter where I'll keep a running list of the current occupied slots. I'll update them after I accept a new submission.
TRIBUTE (make sure to check the next chapter, or just ask me if you're curious.)
MENTOR (free for all prior Games, minus the Games with the known victors, which includes: the 10th, 11th, 38th, and 45th. District 12 is also off-limits.)
STYLIST (you'll be allowed to choose the district they work for, of course.)
Most importantly, have fun creating them! Choose relevant names to the district or Capitol, make your character detailed and dynamic, and make it someone that you want to root for (or that you love to hate. We all love a good, well-rounded villain.)
This story takes place in the 42nd Hunger Games, so it will have some spoilers for the newest HG book, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes. Ye have been warned!
That's about it. :)
Happy submitting, friends!