GamesWatcher .pn, 4th July ADD 44 (2244)
44th Official Hunger Games Victor
Today, at 3.30 A.M., Atari Pellaeon of District Three was declared the Victor of the 44th Official Hunger Games. Due to the extent of her injuries, the Crowning Ceremony is predicted to commence on 15th July.
Message from Medea Walton to Hermes Massassi - sent via PiccoloMessenger at 4:50 AM 4th July, 2244
Sorry about Gina. I was rooting for both of you.
Hermes Massassi to Medea Walton - sent at 5:00 AM
It's okay. I'm happy for Hillis and the rest of Three. Lyme wants to make me an ice cream sundae to cheer me up haha.
Medea Walton to Hermes Massassi - sent at 5:13 AM
She's such a sweet kid. I want her to make me one lol. Also Leto's been throwing a fit. I can hear the stomping and screaming from across the street…
Hermes Massassi to Medea Walton - sent at 5:15 AM
What is it this time????
Medea Walton to Hermes Massassi - sent at 5:20 AM
She keeps saying that Lyme's ditched her for someone cooler and that when the kiddo gets back she won't talk to her, to make her see how she likes it. She's acting like a nine year old. It's so embarrassing. She kept yakking on so much that even GARLAND told her to shut up. Now that was funny.
Hermes Massassi to Medea Walton - sent at 5:21 AM
Garland said that???? No way!!!!
Medea Walton to Hermes Massassi - sent at 5:26 AM
SHE DIDDDD IT WAS HILARIOUS! We all heard it and were cracking up. Magnus didn't say a word but we could tell that fucker was pleased.
But seriously though, the whole thing is kinda sad. I know Matiya's got one of her trips planned, maybe you could kindly suggest she take Lyme with her.
Hermes Massassi to Medea Walton - sent at 5:29 AM
Good idea. I'll talk to her about it.
Ladislava Y. to Matthias Fletcher - sent via PiccoloMessenger at 5:15 AM 5th July, 2244
Goldring is dead, just heard it from S. Congrats on your promotion.
www. cornucopiacircumstance .pn, 20th July 2244
The Sexual Politics of Victordom
With the Crowning of Atari Pellaeon as this year's Victor, it brought to mind an idea for an article that I've been long considering.
Atari is the latest in a line of Victors who used their own sex appeal to their advantage. Right now, Atari's image graces billboard after billboard. The sponsor donations flowed in like water. The crowds were more wild with joy than they were during any other Games in this decade so far.
But why is it like this? Why do we flock in droves to the pretty ones, thereby leaving the others out to dry? Why do we cheer and lust after them so?
From my own research, the answer appears to be simple: it is due to our innate desire to attain the unattainable.
Lillian Lush. Lapis Royale. Hilo Sarr. For years they have danced out of our reach, just barely grazing our fingertips. No doubt Atari Pellaeon will join them. They will continue to enchant us, arouse us, surround us, but we can never do the same for them.
We can meet them on the streets of the Capitol or at the occasional fan convention. They will smile at us, tell us how lovely we've been to them, maybe even divulge a piece of information about their personal lives. But we can never truly affect their lives the same way they affect ours.
They are our celebrities, our stars, our heroes. We look up to them and are blinded by their glow. Their larger-than-life personalities we worship. Their very bodies we desire.
We are, as individuals, irrelevant to them. They may shake your hand and toast to your health, but they will forget your face within ten minutes. To them, we are nothing more than specks of sand to be brushed off.
We place our hands over their image on the television screen but it will never be enough. We buy their pin-ups and display them with shame. We hear that they made a rude comment and wonder if they aren't so nice after all.
With a Victor comes status. With a Victor comes power.
It is a tale as old as time: the peasant girls of the Old Countries desired kings and dukes. Women of the late ADD 20s desired future President Snow once the word spread that he was eligible.
It is the lusty, naive daydreaming - the dreams that confirm what we desperately wish to be true: that we are special. That we are somebody. Out of all the eligible bachelors or bachelorettes the Victor could have chosen, they in turn chose us.
It is a desire as old as humanity itself. By being attained, we become the unattainable. To have others sigh wistfully in our wake, and gaze at us with envy in their eyes.
The Victors are the perfect embodiment of this ideal. Because they choose no one but themselves, we daydream even more about being the one to change their minds. We are simply that special. And thus, we become untouchable.
Victors surround themselves with legions of adoring fans because, much like us, they are drunk on the feeling of outclassing our own stations in life. They portray themselves as better than us, so they therefore must be. They assemble armies of those who would fight to the death to defend them, because even the slightest bit of gratitude reinforces why those fans are defending them in the first place.
Sex appeal is low-hanging fruit: the lowest common denominator. The more leg the fans see, the more willing they are to throw themselves away for the slightest scrap of attention. The more they see of her back or chest, the more of them gather around her.
These Victors have, and will continue to, con their way out of the Hunger Games simply with a hair flick, or a shimmer of the eyes, or a coy expression. And time and time again, many of us will continue to fall for it. A fool and his money are soon parted, when they should never have been together in the first place.
Let them be foolish.
