BASICS

[DEVERY JACOBS, FEMALE, SHE/HER] The 74th Annual Hunger Games are upon us and here comes PIXEL BARDOT, a DISTRICT 3 MENTOR. Word around The Capitol is that they’re RESILIENT AND INTREPID but can also be STUPID AND EGOCENTRIC. According to sources, they’re THIRTY and were once described as the sweet ache of sore muscles building strength, dissociation by drug-addled dancing on tabletops, electricity sparking up like a firework against a black canvas sky, how satisfied that savage feeling is when something finally breaks, only boring people get bored. What a character! As we always say, may the odds be ever in their favor!

BIOGRAPHY

Kodak and Damini Bardot remain among the most lavishly wealthy in District 3. Several suspected they would eventually make the move into the Capitol. However, Kodak preferred a more hands on approach to handling the family business, and Damini built the labs to her perfect specifications here. They were arguably the largest suppliers of screens and holograms in all of Panem. They even had special contracts with the President. Damini’s keen mind for technological upgrades, and Kodak’s business acumen ensured they could build an empire during their young lives, which in turn, meant they sacrificed other ambitions. The Bardot’s always intended to have children, but as time moved steadily on, it was no longer a viable option for them. They turned to adoption, and the lucky twins who came to be their family were named Bokeh and Pixel. 

The twins were raised with every luxury that the District could afford which, admittedly, wasn’t as much as the Capitol, but certainly better than a vast majority of other districts. They both had tutors for general education and soon developed talents and passions all their own. Bokeh was a smart boy. He impressed teachers of every subject and, much like his mother, had a keen mind for inventive technology. Pixel, however, was not equally inclined. She showed absolutely no advantage in her schooling. In fact, she failed almost every academic exam given to her. She was abysmally obtuse with any screen, keyboard, chip, or circuit put in her hands. Instead, Pixel excelled with her dance instructor and then with an acrobatics coach. She was agile and strong, a natural athlete. The Bardot’s tried not to make their disappointment obvious, but it was no secret who would be taking over the business. 

Despite that, Kodak and Damini encouraged each twin with both words and funds. Bokeh was given endless supplies to tinker and craft with while Pixel was trained physically. Soon enough, she expanded her interests to martial arts and combat training. The Bardot’s even attempted to enroll Pixel in the same lessons as other Careers, but there was not much available in their District. Not because they wanted her to volunteer for the games, quite the opposite, but because that would mean she had the best. Truly, Pixel adored the physicality of training, loved how it felt to move, run, jump, and fight. However, she got easily bored. When Pixel wasn’t riding the adrenaline high from athletics, she found other, less reputable, ways to fulfill that need. It started with little risks: climbing up the rogue architecture of buildings, sneaking drinks from her parent’s bar, tests of strength or constitution in venues that she certainly wasn’t old enough to frequent. When all that became boring too, the little menace moved on to larger risks: jumping from rooftop to rooftop, buying hits from shady Morphlings, seeing how long she could take a taser in the chest and stay on her feet. It was all a laugh to her. Besides, her parents had proven several times over that they would pay the way to hush up any trouble she caused. 

When the twins finally became old enough for the Reaping, no one expected Pixel to be drawn during their first year. Bokeh looked terrified as he heard the name echo through the main square. Pixel, on the other hand, seemed excited. Of course no one volunteered on her behalf. She wouldn’t really want them to. This was a competition like no other. The surprisingly strong girl earned an immediate reputation. Most tributes from District 3 were lean, almost feeble, and pallid. Their skillset relied on the electronics trade. Those who won often did so by taking advantage of that knowledge. Pixel was, by all appearances, in another class entirely. She had the toned and well-defined muscles of a gymnast and fighter, and stood decidedly imposing compared to the rest of her District. That became a rather large hook for her character before the games began. No one quite knew what to expect. 

The games that year were hosted on a salt flat. When the tributes were brought into the arena, there was nothing but flat mirror earth beneath them, a deadly sun above, the Cornucopia in front of them, and the movement of some indistinguishable animals in the far distance. Most tributes realized quickly that there was nowhere to hide and water was going to be their most valued possession. It was one of the most violent bloodbaths in recent history. Pixel was responsible for six of the ten deaths on day one. Those who survived ran as far as they could with nothing. The first night was tense. The second night, it rained. Those who managed to catch some of that water managed to hold out longer. The rest perished from dehydration and exhaustion. Pixel made a base camp inside the cornucopia, but got bored on day four and started to hunt. She managed to catch a few other tributes, but it was going slow and the original supply of water was running low. It rained again, but this time muttations were released into the arena. They were electrified and meant to use the thin layer of water to amplify their range of voltage. Pixel survived through a sponsor gift; a thin rubber sheet just large enough to fit both feet. She climbed to the top of Cornucopia and tried to wait it out, but the rain would not cease. With only three Tributes left, Pixel instincts screamed that she had to move to win since time was not on their side. She took the rubber mat and managed to wrangle it around one of the electric muttations to keep it in her grasp. 

Pixel won the games, but lost her left hand in the process. She also suffered some severe nerve damage and burned all her hair off. That eventually grew back, but the hand did not. She had it replaced with a fiberoptic prosthetic designed by her mother and brother. After the tour, Pixel retired to the Victor’s Village for a grand total of three months. Then she got bored again and decided to do what her parents should have done years and years ago; she moved to the Capitol. The party life was insane. It suited her. 

What called Pixel back to District 3 was the current mentor, the man who trained her, had a proper mental breakdown. He could no longer stand to send lottery winners year after year. They needed someone to train the new crop of Tributes. So Pixel agreed to do it. She would get bored of the Capitol soon anyway, and then what? She excelled in getting those Tributes physically ready. District 3 needed advice on how to gain muscle and stamina. However, Pixel struggled to help conceive of more quietly strategic methods of victory.

STATS

Deceive; 1

Fight; 3

Lore (knowledge); 1

Notice; 1

Physique; 3

Provoke; 2

Rapport; 1

Resourcefulness; 2

Stealth; 2

Will; 3

EXTRAS

pinterest. || playlist.

HEADCANONS

Pixel is pansexual and rather active about it. She had no qualms or hesitation about crawling into bed with just about anyone (at anytime). Sexuality also played a large part in Pixel’s schtick before her games.

Once she moved to the Capitol, Pixel experimented with a few other body modifications. The most notable of which are iridescent circuit-like tattoos across the expanse of her body.

Pixel is not what she would call a drug addict. She is, but she has certainly made it appear more like over-indulgent fun.

BASICS

(SIMAY BARLAS, FEMME-NEUTRAL, SHE/THEY) The 74th Annual Hunger Games are upon us and here comes THIMBLE VIRIDIAN RINALDI, a DISTRICT 8 TRIBUTE. Word around The Capitol is that they’re WHIMSICAL AND ADROIT but can also be ERRANT AND ERRATIC. According to sources, they’re TWENTY-ONE and were once described as the fading warmth at twilight of midsummer concrete beneath lithe bare feet, a whistled melody carried like a bubble by the wind, searching for a star to follow in the light pollution of a city skyline, a story told from memory while a tea candle keeps the nightmares at bay, a needle piercing two sides to pull everything together. What a character! As we always say, may the odds be ever in their favor!

BIOGRAPHY

Before the peacekeepers forcefully made the Covey settle into various districts, they were a nomadic folk. Thimble’s grandparents could still remember the days of travel and music, well, the ones who were still alive and around could. Her mother’s father was among those who resisted, and two uncles, a great aunt, and her mother’s mother were forced to separate to District 4 before the rest were told to settle into Little Cove on the edge of District 8’s large, urban infrastructure. They struggled to make ends meet without traveling to perform at first, and while some continued to sing for money, others began to learn the textile trades of their neighbors. Soon the remaining family mastered their own unique form of carpet weaving in order to have income.

The older generation remained righteous and seething in their anger as they maintained what parts of their culture they could in a city which largely ostracized them while Thimble’s parents simply slipped into their mundane daily work with soulless dedication. It was true they genuinely loved one another and claimed to be content with their simple lives, but there was never passion in their eyes. It was more like resignation to survive. Thimble swore that would never be her. In fact, she didn’t really like weaving carpet despite an instinctual talent on the loom. Instead, she preferred to make her own clothes. At the very least, any and every thing she wore had an embroidered embellishment or stitched needlepoint done by her own hand.

Thimble both saw the beauty present around her in unconventional ways and wanted to make it all ever the more beautiful. She loved to explore the city. There were factories with loose windows that were easy to climb in and feel all the fabric textures. The dye shops always left their back doors open when it wasn’t raining and during their lunch, Thimble could sneak through to assess all the nuanced hues of possibility. She would dance to the sounds of her kinsfolk music on evenings in Little Cove with thrill and delight. Every ballad they sang became memorized in a treasured stitch on a tapestry of storytelling. Even what was harsh could be rose tinted in her eyes. She would climb to the top of their family’s shared living and stare for hours hoping to catch a twinkle in the night sky beyond the lights that dimmed them, but couldn’t it always finally be the day? 

Eventually, Thimble decided that they simply had to become a stylist. It was a career that would give them everything that they wanted. The freedom to get out of Little Cove and see different skies, a purpose for their deft needlework, an audience who wouldn’t walk all over their art, and a bridge that could express their vision and passion to those who would otherwise ignore them. It just made sense. Thimble’s sister, Clementine Rose, who was far older and somehow content to continue their parent’s work, often warned a young Thimble not to become too hopeful of that daydream. Clem was always very responsible and helpful. She was the eldest by far and tended to behave a bit more maternal over her younger siblings. Unfortunately, she also seemed to believe pessimism was rooted in being more realistic. Meanwhile Thimble’s older brother, Reaper Blue, was much the opposite. He was the middle child; easy-going, relaxed, and enjoyed nothing more than the idea of having a little laugh. He was always telling fantastic stories and making everyone in the room laugh. No one was more inclined to tell Thimble to dream ever bigger, and Thimble would listen to every word.

Ironically, Reaper was likely the one most devastated when Thimble was reaped for the games. Everyone watching in each distinct district heard the pained cry he could not contain when the name was read. Clem bore it in tear-stained silence. Thimble could not even look at their parents’ faces, because at least then they could pretend both continued on in placid ease. They all knew no one would volunteer on Thimble’s behalf, which was fine. They would just have to win. Thimble could win; they were adaptable, clever enough, and charming to a crowd. They could carve a place of belonging even where they could not create cohesion. They were passionate, idealistic, and absolutely brutal. Since they had already spent a lifetime playing against unfair odds, Thimble had developed several creative methods of evening a play field. They only looked at the crowd and the cameras and smiled.

STATS

Deceive; 2

Fight; 2

Lore (knowledge); 2

Notice; 2

Physique; 1

Provoke; 1

Rapport; 2

Resourcefulness; 3

Stealth; 2

Will; 3

EXTRAS

pinterest. || playlist.

HEADCANONS

Despite Thimble’s talent for weaving, embroidery, tailoring, and otherwise altering textiles, they absolutely can not figure out how to knit. Something about that skillset completely evades them. Every time they try, it comes out horribly miscounted and uneven.

She almost always has a few needles and pins on her and will not hesitate to use them to her advantage, especially in situations where she sees the circumstances as unjust or unfair. There have been several occasions where she jabs someone just to look extra innocent when they start after her to manipulate the peacekeepers.

For some reason, the lack of stories that her family shared about their missing members has bolstered within Thimble a great need to be remembered. She wants people to tell her story; good or bad.  

Thimble knows how to whistle very impressively and knows how to play a handful of flutes, but her brother was the one who really fell in love with music. She just wanted a better way to bond with him and found the flute suited her. 

Style is obviously very important to Thimble, but they refuse to cater into already established styles. Popularity is nice, but they’re a trendsetter, not a follower. Their goal had been to create a home for their style amongst the Capitol fashions. Perhaps it still is a goal, although a few notches down in priority now. 

SOPHIE THATCHER, GNC & NONBINARY, THEY/HE/ANY The 74th Annual Hunger Games are upon us and here comes ISIDOROS VAUGHN, a DISTRICT 1 TRIBUTE. Word around The Capitol is that they’re LOYAL AND CUNNING but can also be HARD- HEADED AND OBSESSIVE. According to sources, they’re 20 and were once described as silk and patterned lace, smooth, flawless skin, dramatic string music played in an opulent ballroom, a wolf in sheep’s clothing, and the scent of vanilla and cinnamon. What a character! As we always say, may the odds be ever in their favor!

biography

It felt like there were plenty in District One who were frothing at the mouth to get a chance to compete in the Games, to chase after glory and honor and the spotlight. Isidoros, or as they preferred to be called– Izador– Iza, even-  had never been one of them. Iza was content with their life with their loving fathers, their brother and sister. They’d never taken a breath in which they weren’t doted on and spoiled within an inch of their life. Benjamin & Aleksandr Vaughn had come from generations and generations of importance and wealth, and their children had always known that they were destined to follow in the same footsteps.

For Iza, the meaning of life was found at fancy parties, amongst crowds of people, gorgeous clothing, gossip whispered behind lifted hands and table upon table filled most any delicacy or fancy drink imaginable. Being a socialite had it’s perks, from the stunning company to the delectable consumables, lively music and warm bodies. Sure, there was always that vague knowledge that it was possible that your name would be called at the reaping, your life disrupted until you’d survived enough years to have aged out… but it was a fair assumption that for every tribute drawn from District One there were twenty others ready to fight for their chance to take the stage. Iza wasn’t worried. Iza never worried about what felt like such a trivial risk, but at their father’s insistence– partook in basic survival and combat training, fully expecting never to use it in a circumstance where life was actually on the line.

Iza was going to be a chef, and Iza was going to be a trophy spouse. It wasn’t a sin to know what you wanted, or for what you wanted to consist of a life of finery and debauchery. It wasn’t so much a ten- year- plan as it was something Iza felt in his bones. They’d always gotten what he wanted before, had always accomplished whatever they set their mind to and their future would follow those same rules.

It might have, had one of the names called at the Reaping not belonged to Iza’s childhood love. It might have, had Iza not opened their mouth and volunteered, an action taken without thinking, without a second spared to consider the consequences. It might have, had Iza not found themself as one of District One’s tributes, sorely unprepared and for the first time in their life, drowning in uncertainty for what their future looked like… if they’d even have one at all.

stats

Deceive: 2

Fight: 2

Lore (knowledge): 2

Notice: 3

Physique: 1

Provoke: 2

Rapport: 2

Resourcefulness: 2

Stealth: 1

biography

→ penelope valentinus was born into a life of luxury and privilege within the opulent confines of the capitol. her family, the valentinus, is one of the oldest and most influential in the capitol, known for their lavish parties and extravagant lifestyle. from a young age, penelope was groomed for a life of influence and power. she attended the finest schools and was exposed to the inner workings of capitol society.

→ penelope's hunger games journey began when she was chosen to work as an assistant gamemaker. her family's connections allowed her to secure this prestigious position, where she quickly gained a reputation for her ability to mold tributes into fierce competitors. she presented herself as a beacon of capitol charm and charisma, earning the adoration of the audience and sponsors.

→ one of penelope's most defining traits is her skill at maintaining a meticulously crafted facade. in public, she presents herself as a vivacious and charming woman who thrives on the capitol's social scene. her captivating smile and quick wit have earned her many admirers. however, this facade is merely a mask she wears to manipulate and control those around her. those who have the misfortune of working closely with penelope quickly learn the darker side of her personality. behind closed doors, she is calculating, manipulative, and apologetically ruthless. she is known to stop at nothing to achieve her goals, even if it means sacrificing the tributes she once mentored. her cunning and deceitful nature have helped her climb the ranks within the capitol's power structure.

→ after years of working as an assistant gamemaker, penelope finally ascended to the coveted position of head gamemaker. her promotion was met with mixed reactions, as some feared the lengths she would go to in order to make the hunger games more entertaining and brutal. under her leadership, the hunger games have become even more unpredictable, with twists and turns designed to keep the audience on the edge of their seats.

→ penelope's deep-seated hatred for the districts is a driving force behind her success as head gamemaker. she views the districts as nothing more than pawns in the capitol's elaborate games, and she takes great pleasure in manipulating their fates. her disdain for the districts stems from both her upbringing and the immense pressure she faces from her own family to maintain their status and influence.

stats

deceive - 3

fight - 1

lore (knowledge) - 3

notice - 2

physique - 1

provoke - 1

rapport - 1

resourcefulness - 3

stealth - 3

One of District 11’s many orphans, Sparrow hasn’t the faintest idea who her parents were. Her name was given to her by the old man who ran the orphanage she was left at the door of, with one of the classic surnames given to foundlings around the district tacked on at the end. 

While he never mistreated her, old Culler had his hands full with his overflowing house, and little time to dedicate to any specific child. From a young age, Sparrow learned that anything she wanted, she’d have to get for herself, from food scraps to a pallet to sleep on. A nimble climber, she was often found up on the orphanage’s roof, curled up on a blanket laid over the sun-warm tiles, out of reach from bigger, stronger kids who might try to take her findings from her.

Like most of her district’s children, she was pulled from school and drafted to join the workforce before she hit double digits. This was a curse and a boon, as while the work was back-breaking on a good day, it gave her plenty of occasions to sneak off some of the produce they gathered. A scrawny, gangly child, she was deemed too weak to last very long under the merciless sun out in the fields, she was assigned to triage, and tasked with sorting the good fruits and vegetable from the spoiled, to pick out what would be sent to the Capitol and what riffraff would be left for the districts’ residents. 

Sparrow became an expert at sneaking apples down her shirt unnoticed, and before long, she’d graduated to picking coins straight out of the overseers’ pockets. She was not the strongest worker, nor the most resilient, but her talent for thieving kept her afloat even after she turned sixteen and Culler shooed her out, to make room for younger, needier children. What she did not eat, she could trade, and while it was nowhere near enough to be comfortable, it kept her from starving to death.

Sparrow likes to brag she was only caught once…though the mistake did cost her. She was lucky enough that the one who caught onto her was one of the district’s gentler Peacekeepers, and where she might have lost her hand at the wrist for larceny, she got away with only losing two fingers on her left hand. 

Despite her antics, food alone was not always plentiful, and there were years she was forced to trade tesserae to get by, when winters were harsh and the harvest lean. Even so, her odds were better than most in Eleven, and so her Reaping came as a shock. Though her friendly persona had won her some friends, no one loved her quite enough to volunteer in her place⎯and so off she went to the Capitol, painfully aware of what she lacked but determined to survive all the same.