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I will start sometime next week. I did the main bulk of plotting on Thursday, and wrote a few intro “chapters” for characters, but I need to catch up with school after the virus.
And I should update on it… once a week? School and irl family dynamics come first.
#ProtectAdolinKholin
@whalekeeper ok! Can’t wait!
And that’s ok if you can’t do it because of school or family stuff. That happens to me all the time.
Intro chapters for all the characters? What are they like?
"When in doubt, eat cheese crackers."-me to my charries who don't even know about cheese crackers
@whalekeeper how’s it going on that story btw? Sorry if I sound impatient. I’m just excited to see how this goes down for everybody lol
"When in doubt, eat cheese crackers."-me to my charries who don't even know about cheese crackers
*Oogway voice* You must learn patience, my young student…
It’s going okay XD It’s all plotted out! I have almost 5k words so far, from the outline and attempted bits 🙂 Which makes it sound like it’s going to be huuuuuge, but I don’t think it’s going to be terribly big. That was just from Thursday and some writing on Saturday, I think.
#ProtectAdolinKholin
@whalekeeper lol ok!
here’s some more Mundy quotes cause I’m bored: (also you get subjected to my bad attempt to type what his accent sounds like)
- “I’m gonna blow bits of ya all over four counties!”
- “Keep running that mouth–while it’s still attached to the rest a’ ya!”
- “I don’t make the first move….just the last one.”
- “I love this job. Sunshine’s free, bullets are cheap, and everybody’s got a head.”
- “Snipin’s not hard, mate. You just need a good eye, a steady hand, and perfect aim.”
- (jeering at someone–maybe Crosshair lol) “By the Teeth, you’ve been shot. Did ya get a look at the handsome rogue who did it?”
- “If yer strategy is to build me confidence, it’s workin’.”
- “This was too easy, mate.”
- “Here’s some advice: Next time, shoot first.”
- (after shooting an opponent several times) “Where’d I get ya this time? The liver? The kidney? I’m runnin’ outta places to put holes in ya.”
- “How’d that bullet feel, huh? Huh?”
- “Sight’s steady, trigger’s cold. Let’s get a lead on this one.”
- (snapping at his pals pushing something) “This ain’t a walkabout, ya wyrms! Throw yer backs into it!”
oh and I made one of the quotes my new forum signature lol
"When in doubt, eat cheese crackers."-me to my charries who don't even know about cheese crackers
Now everyone will ask me why the heck I have that, but it wouldn’t let me put any context lol
"When in doubt, eat cheese crackers."-me to my charries who don't even know about cheese crackers
Quick questions:
Do Rina and Zash know each other? (I’m assuming they would be enemies if they did)
Are Flaz and Markus from the same universe? If so, what is it like, and what are their relationship? If not, could you briefly describe their universes please? :]
I need the 24th character!! I think Highscribe is okay with you contributing!
#ProtectAdolinKholin
They do not. Same universe, different planets.
🏰 Fantasy Writer
✨ Magic System Creator
🎭 Character RPer
📚 Appreciator of BooksYeah, they’re from the same universe, but they’re from different countries. Markus lives in a far southern country (which is actually uninhabited besides him and his dad, and is very much like Antarctica), and Flaz lives in the northern country of Extroit (which is very much like America).
They don’t really know each other that well and are from different novels.
Ok, Entrista (Marky’s home country) is VERY cold. There aren’t many trees, and snow NEVER stops falling. The land is mostly flat, besides a few slight hills here and there. It’s very plain so I don’t have much to say. His dad’s house stands out amongst the land because it is a big, black and gray, concrete building. 🥶
It’s kinda hard to describe Extroit, because I share the country with my siblings… it’s ruled by a king, and has a mix of modern and medieval elements. I can try to describe Burne (where Flaz live) if that helps… but it’s still hard…
Burne is like a mix of America (mostly), Korea, and 1960s Japan. There are three cities in Burne: Fremir, Loktight, and Borghett. Fremir is known for the district of ridiculously huge and beautiful mansions, a district of uncountable apartment complexes, and a HUGE neighborhood of EXTREMELY poor homes (that look like the abandoned ones in Detroit… or worse). Loktight is the metropolis, and has tall modern looking buildings built near the crystal clear Hayven River. Borghett is a chilly city built along the Beddingcona ocean, and most imports and immigrants come through there and there are lots of large gray factories. The whole Extroit kinda revolves around their warriors, who are extremely loved and admired (though it’s not something everyone can be).
… *realizes that wasn’t very brief* …
UGH, I am so sorry if that was too much or not very helpful! I have a hard time describing without info dumping or telling too little… 😓😖😖
INTP.
@keilah-h @esther-c @lydibug @loopylin @jonas @godlyfantasy12 @freed_and_redeemed @smiley @grcr @highscribeofaetherium @rae @lightoverdarkness6
Okay *ahem* Is this mic working… *tap tap* okay.
Intro/Things You Need to Know
The biggest thing to know is that your character may be a villain. Even if they are a hero in your story, they may show a darker version of themselves here. This is essentially a villain AU.
The events of this Hunger Games are entirely randomized. Occasionally I have changed events for continuity issues. For example, if Character A just ran away from Character B, and the next event says they’ve been together for a long time and now fully trust each other, that’s… not going to cut it XD Same thing if a group is established, but is remixed in the next event with some other characters coming from nowhere. That’s too much for me and I’m not going to make it that complicated.
I have killed every character the simulator chose. Multiple times I was tempted to resurrect someone, but I stuck with it, and all 23 tributes will die. I am really sorry if your characters die early!!
Will update… whenever life allows. I will try to finish it though :]
#ProtectAdolinKholin
@keilah-h @esther-c @lydibug @loopylin @jonas @godlyfantasy12 @freed_and_redeemed @smiley @grcr @highscribeofaetherium @rae @lightoverdarkness6
PrologueI know I’m imaginary.
You’re reading about me right now, thinking smugly about how you’ve seen a self-aware intro before. But this is me, not another imaginary narrator, so I’m just going to slay my job with self-confidence.
I am the President of this Game.
It wasn’t my choice. It was Whaley’s… you know, the random writer who needed a figure head for a mysterious corporation. So she chose me. Made me.
I feel sorry for everyone, for what I have to do.
I hate being omniscient.
I know everything these other imaginary friends have been through… or just enough to let an inky tear slide down my paper-white cheek.
And yet I smile.
Because once Whaley gets tired of writing this AU, I will fade away into KP oblivion. Not quite alive, not quite dead.
At least she made me hot. (You’ll see.)
The fountain-tipped point of the matter is, these characters will have no other purpose than to live out a what-if. What if we put all of them in a battle together, to the death? What if somehow a couple dozen universes converged, into a vaguely interesting setting with drama, intrigue, romance?
You real people love watching us.
I have no choice but to oblige. So sit back, hug your stuffed animal or hide under the covers, and enjoy the show.
– President Quill
…
– Introductions –
…
Godly’s District
The young ginger reached to tug his collar, nervously tapping his foot.
A hand landed on his shoulder. “Stand straight, boy. for Light’s sake, act like you’re worth more.”
“Yes, F-Father.” November tried to stand still, like the solemn lord his father always managed to be.
Around them, the other children of A’Grend wore long, pale faces, bumping into each other as the crowd pressed forward.
Today was Reaping Day, and a new nightmare had started. The royal family fought against this new tradition through speeches and laws, steadily shaving off the power imbalance – but the facts remained.
Two able, young A’Grendlings would leave their home and fight to the death.
“The death” being… no one knew.
On the steps of the royal home, a girl and boy sat together, watching the proceedings. Ara and Paxton, princess and new prince. They let go of each other’s hands and stood up as their parents stepped forward.
The chance was two in a thousand. Surely neither of them would be picked. After all, they were the royal children!
…But November had never seen them quite that way because they were his friends. And maybe the game runners saw them equally too.
The thought trickled through his veins like ice. From then on, he did not stop watching them.
Finally, the time came. The sun shone brightly as the first name spread through the crowd in waves.
“Paxton Fable!”
No.
Little Paxton, face paper white, fell back against his guardians. The shock paralyzed him.
“No!” Arabella shot up her hand. “He is too weak to compete! I will be the tribute!”
November tried to rush forward, but was pulled back by his father again.
Not Ara.
She gave her parents – and Paxton – a sad smile, and walked bravely through the crowd.
The princess was to be a tribute. Unlike Pax, who was an adopted prince, Ara was a direct descendant of the founding king and queen. The only direct descendant. Some people’s eyes turned bleak, others angry.
If Ara vanished… this kingdom would lose all color. All happiness.
“It is meant to be this way,” November’s father whispered. “For the good of the rest of us.”
November clenched his fists.
“November!”
There was a deep pause. Then November’s father sighed, and nodded. “Yes, for the good of everyone.”
The words rang in the boy’s ears, harder than his name did. He took a deep breath, brushed back a stray curl, and ran down to meet Arabella.
They would go together. And that was what mattered.
…
Esther’s District
With a few steps, Everton passed his hand over the glimmering edge of the Orb.
Softly, he brushed back his hair, and dropped his arm to his side. Then he walked along the edge, toeing at the little bits of grass and clover that grew there.
Ami would be there any second, if promises amounted to anything. He could picture her sunny hair, shone through by light and smiles alike, and her joy at every little gift.
It felt strange to think this might be their last meeting.
Ev scowled, and almost kicked the border before stopping himself, wobbling on one foot.
She would probably say –
“Ev, what are you doing now?”
Amidala sat down nearby in the grass. Her tone lifted with amusement. “Is this something I should be worried about?”
Ev gestured at all of himself. “This?”
They laughed together, and settled in the middle of a clover patch.
It was summer; a season which fit Ami and her family well. Sometimes it was almost possible to forget they were locked in an invisible cage.
But even the green and the bright blue bowed to a strange heaviness in the air.
“…Ev?” The girl didn’t look at him. “I’ve been pretending.”
“Pretending what?”
“Pretending that this whole… Game thing isn’t real. It feels like a rumor, or something that happened to another generation. Not like a real threat to us.”
“But the names will be called in the next ten minutes,” Ev’s face darkened.
Ami suddenly pushed his shoulder. Her eyelashes were wet. “Stop. I don’t want to think about this. What if we…”
If one of them was chosen, there was almost no chance they would see each other again. Maybe those in the Game didn’t die. But from the solemn looks on every adult, and the occasional red eyes on a mother’s face, this was very, very serious.
They didn’t speak for perhaps… seven minutes? Eight? The heaviness thickened, until both of them barely moved.
“Hey, look!” Ev tried to cheer her up. He held a small clover up to the sun. “Four leaves.”
Neither of them fully believed in good luck. But the sight was enjoyable nonetheless.
Ami breathed in deeply, took the clover, and spun the stem back and forth. “…Okay. Okay.”
“I’m afraid too. But -”
“Everton.” The speaker boomed from the closest building.
Ami clutched to Ev’s arm. Her breaths came shallow, and the tears ran freely now. As he stood up, she took his hands. “Ev, this isn’t fair… You shouldn’t have to do this. It’s wrong.”
The speaker spoke in the background now, echoing in their heads, calm and wrong. “Adrian.”
“I’ll win.” The young man let a steady, deep determination take over him. “Ami, listen. If all of this plays out, even if it feels unreal, I am real. And I’ll come back, okay?”
“Promise,” Ami sobbed. She pressed the clover in his hand.
“Promise.”
Everton left her at the Orb, walking to the center of the city, where someone – everyone – was sure to meet him. His feet felt like lead, but the clover was a piece of raw gold.
…
Whaley’s District
“Let go of him,” Hugo Angelo snarled, struggling against the handcuffs.
He was thrown into the back of an automobile, against ripped leather seats. When the door was shut behind him, he angrily kicked back.
“In a minute,” a rich voice sang.
Something slammed against the car hood – a boy’s shoulders.
The tall man above him muttered a few words, indistinguishable through the glass barrier. The headlights flickered, blaring across his light purple suit and blood eyes.
The door flashed open and shut, and the boy fell in.
Hugo pulled him up by his suspenders. ” I swear, that guy is a professional nut case. Fine, ‘ Bast?”
“Yeah.”
Bastian lay on his side, chest rising and falling from being manhandled.
Grown from a tiny child to a tiny adolescent, he still got a lot of manhandling. Unfortunately, the snow had soaked through his clothes, his hat was gone, and the coat so oversized that his shoulders were otherwise left bare. Neither boys had dressed for the cold.
“What did he say?”
“Dad… is gone. So no one will watch out for us.”
” What’s that supposed to mean? Your dad’s been out of the picture for fourteen years.”
“…We’ve been…” The blond teenager struggled to talk. But his old spunk flashed in his eyes. “You know. Chosen.”
“For the Game.”
“Yeah.”
Hugo brushed his hair out of his eyes with his fists, pulled his scarf off, and handed it to Bast.
Of course the collected gangs chose them for the Game. They were pests, but had so far belonged there as sons of a leader.
The Game was the perfect way to get rid of unwanted members.
Bastian tucked the red scarf under his chin. His pupils slowly dilated, as a smile crossed his lips. “If only they knew.”
“What?”
“That I care. Just… not in the way they think.”
“Do I want to know what you mean?”
Embers flickered in Bastian’s happy eyes. They started to unfold with jubilant rainbows and an overwhelming light.
Unattached to life. Unafraid of killing individuality, and ascending to pure nothingness.
But he blinked the soullessness away, and stared out at the mild snowfall. “Being threatened with death really stimulates a person. I wish I had matches.”
As if to prove that need, a large lackey came to the front, and took a long time trying to start up the frozen car. The engine sputtered, then roared forward into the unknown.
Neither of the victims had to say what they were thinking. They already knew.
This could be the end.
But this could also double as a nice vacation.
…
Jonah’s District
Without giving permission to be sucked into an endless portal, Rina was sucked into an endless portal.
Which defeated the definition of a portal entirely.
Well, that could not be certain. There might be an end, which in any case would make it a perfectly functional portal. But in measurements of time, it could take… a million years? Two million? Rina might no longer exist by the time the portal ended.
She might have to accept never finding out.
Rats.
She had been minding her own business, fighting viciously to the death. Now she could breathe again, the thrill of battle draining out of her veins and leaving her a touch cynical.
At any rate, it wasn’t her own portal anymore. Her energy was not depleting.
Rina attempted to make a portal within a portal, but the manifestation just whipped away behind her, like a stone in a current. Manifestations in front of her just whipped to the side.
Eventually Rina was floating in a dark, senseless void. Her arms and legs hovered uselessly, and motion stopped.
“This is a boring place to die,” she huffed.
You and another have been chosen to explore the multiverse.
Ah. An otherworldly voice, as one normally hears.
“And who are you to tell me where to go?” Rina felt for Sliver at her hip, as a not-so-subtle gesture. “Where I go is my choice.”
In case you haven’t noticed, this is force.
Rina threw her hands up. “Of course. Stupid forces of the universe, deciding who’s who and what’s what… it’s sickening. Who is the other poor guy you threw in here?”
He is known as Zash.
Someone seemed to breathe at Rina’s shoulder, and she whipped around. But whatever it was, was already gone. A party trick, probably.
Fortunately for both of you, you did not have to go through the stress of some other tributes. It has so far been quick and painless.
“…Thanks. How considerate.”
Survive for some time, and you may return to your own world.
“Is there a reason why you chose me? And this Zash?”
For one, you’re amusing. For another, an alternate universe calls for dynamic choices and change. Every choice you make – every flight of the emotion – is exactly what is wanted. And I believe you will do nicely.
A tug twisted around Rina’s gut, and she spiraled forward as if falling down a colorless chasm. She reached out her consciousness, gripping back with as much strength as she could muster.
With a victorious tilt of the head, Rina landed.
…
Lydibug’s District
Astrid’s three eyes burned with anger and annoyance. She held the scruff of a squishy pink creature between her fingers. “Get this thing out of my face.”
The new recruit nodded quickly. She took the creature in her arms, and scurried back to her pod, shoes cling-clanging against the cool metal floor.
As she went, she giggled.
Insubordination.
Astrid rolled her eyes and stared at the open glass above her head. The pinpricks of light slipping past the spaceship twinkled welcomingly, belonging to thousands of worlds.
Maybe one of those worlds was her own. But what did Astrid know? She belonged where she could, and that was all.
She huffed, and turned to one of the computer monitors. “Computer, what is the next scheduled priority?”
“Assignment of tributes for the Game, commencing in four-point-two-seven minutes. Randomly assigned.”
“Password: celestine,” Astrid sighed, brushing her pink hair back to type something down. “Computer, what is the Game?”
Silence.
It might be a new recruit activity, like cleaning in the ship galley.
“Computer, what will be the system’s response to the priority during initiation?”
“One to two pod deployments.”
Now that was interesting. But Astrid would rather leave it a sweet surprise, and get a laugh whenever it happened.
She headed down the hallway. As a more experienced passenger on this ship, she was assigned a job checking the rookies’ sleep spaces. Boring, but important.
A few pods passed by, and she reached Pod 141. She tapped on a panel and entered.
The room was a mess.
The whole ceiling was strung with random trinkets and toys, clothes strewn everywhere, and the floor slick with… puddles? The recruit lay flopped over on the bunk, squishing her alien sidekick’s face like a ball of pink slime. It had wings, and frills for ears.
“What is this??” Astrid snapped.
The recruit hopped out of bed and saluted. Her ears twitched nervously. “My pod!”
Astrid checked the number panel, and put her hands on her hips. “Naomi, you -”
“Princess Naomi.” Naomi smiled. “Space princess, if you’re going to be fancy.”
Astrid’s anger puffed. “This is ridiculous. You’re ridiculous. Be smart for once, and clean up your pod.”
“But I-“
“And this… ugh, this thing,” Astrid kicked at the slimy axolotl, “is grossing me out.”
With a high-pitched gurgle, the axolotl jumped onto Astrid’s face.
Chaos ensued. Astrid slipped on a puddle, and fell back against the pod’s computer console.
“Nova!” Naomi squealed.
Astrid groped for a handhold, and the axolotl fell off, onto a button on the wall. Suddenly a bright red light flashed, and the door closed.
That button isn’t supposed to work.
“Assignment: Game initiated. Randomly generated pod number manually overridden.”
“Shoot.”
The pod hissed, and shot out of the spaceship.
…
GRCR’s District
Flaz ran ahead of his class, laughing as a bunch of guys booed after him. His sneakers skidded on the ground, and along the walkway, up to the main pavilion.
The lights along the walk glittered on, as the sun began to burn orange in the lower sky.
Students pooled in, laughing together, or clumped in worried clots, slowing the path. In between their bodies, light cast through from the intricate buildings past the pavilion, and shone through Flaz’s eyelashes. His feet strayed a little, but sped on.
All of Burne had a great honor to fulfill today… although Flaz didn’t exactly care, as long as it didn’t require a ten-page homework assignment afterwards.
Today, someone in the city’s collective schools was going to be chosen for a multi-country challenge. It involved fighting, which the country of Extroit was the perfect choice for. Who better to choose than someone from a highly developed culture of warriors?
…It had all been so sudden though.
That was the weird part. Flaz wasn’t even sure what was happening. The announcement had been made only a couple hours ago.
Was that sus?
Yep. But who cared?
He was all worn out by the time he reached one of the pavilion pillars. He sat down and crossed his legs, panting, and grinned like a king as the rest of the students passed by.
“Eeyy, Flazzy, you ready to win the lottery?”
“Yep,” Flaz leaned back and fluttered his eyelids, like the rich kid he was always meant to be.
“You’re too lazy to pull a punch,” a friend teased.
The boy winked. “You know me. Hey, can you tell Frin to get down from his all-knowing throne and bring me a snack while we’re waiting for -“
“Hello, everyone,” the director called out.
Oops, already!
Flaz jumped up, almost tripping over his own feet, and followed everyone to the outside podium. The whole crowd was made of at least five hundred people, probably more.
“Welcome Markus Haziair, our first tribute. He comes all the way from Entrista.” The director waved a hand towards a boy, standing alone.
Flaz stood on his tiptoes to get a good look. “Wow, he’s weird.”
Kind of. Markus had a solid look to him, with quiet cool-colored clothing, and even quieter blue eyes. He isolated himself from the crowd and didn’t meet anyone’s gazes.
Which made sense, since he was from Icy Land.
The crowd calmed down, and the director smiled. “We are honored to announce that Flaz Sayre will be the second tribute.”
Boom.
Within the space of four seconds, Flaz’s expectations for that evening came tumbling down. He blinked, flabbergasted. “What?”
Everyone looked at him weird. Surprise and respect flickered, and made way for him. But he didn’t move.
He wasn’t sure what to think. To be a fearless citizen, representing his country? It sounded amazing in theory, but Flaz had second thoughts. After all, he was notoriously slippery when it came to community service.
Was he allowed to have second thoughts?
Wait… was he not allowed to say no?
“Hey, wait, I -“ Before Flaz could raise his hand to properly catch the director’s attention, he was whisked off. People clapping him on the back, giving him high-fives, a few with worried smiles.
Suddenly he and Markus stood next to each other next to the podium.
“Good luck to you both, Markus and Flaz!” The director shook their hands.
“I, um…” Flaz looked at Markus for back-up.
The other tribute didn’t speak.
“And may you have the Game of your lives!” The director threw his hands out at the cheering crowd.
#ProtectAdolinKholin
*incoherent excited Loopy noises*
🎵It takes a long time to wait 🌻
Well, Wyoh keeps eating my message.
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!! 😆😆😆😆😆😆😆 I love it so much so far and I’m so excited!!!
INTP.
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