Every eye was glued to the screen. Every face radiated fear, but with just a little dab of curiosity underneath. President Glorious Gleam, in a shimmering white suit, stood erect in front of Panem. A small child, Mr. Gleam's grandson, sat cross-legged at his feet, holding a little box. He took a card out of it and gave it to his grandfather. President Gleam smiled as he gingerly took off the bloodred ribbon. His strong voice boomed across the land as he read the neat print. "We arrive, today, at out sixtieth Quarter Quell! The rebels fought and destroyed things in their own, comfortable homes! Because of this, there will be no arena, the 24 tributes will fight on the street's of the Capitol. A force field will keep them in, but, nearly everywhere, citizens will be able to view the fighting without cameras, and the tribute's can view the cheering crowd!"

The TV fizzed and lost signal. A silence swept the land.


1. It´s three tributes per user, and I accept wikia contributors.

2. You should give your tributes advice before the private sessions and after every day in the arena. Tributes that gets advice will have a higher chance of survival, but I can still kill any tribute of my desire.

3. Please use good and polite language.

4. If you ask me for a sponsor gift to give to your tribute, I may feel like giving it. But It`s very unlikely.

5. This will be a regular hunger games with only twelve districts competing.

6. Alliances will be posted after the training and the arena will be revealed when I have all the tributes. You can leave a comment saying who you want your tribute to ally with. If you don´t say the alliance of your tributes, I will put them in a random alliance or classify them as loners.

7. I will do reapings, training scores and then the Games.

8. Put "yes" in your comments if you read these rules.

9. Reservations last 2 days.


Tribute Template








Weaknesses (at least 2):




Token (optional):

Thank you! (I don't have a preference. Tributes can be old and new.)

Meet the Tributes of the 60th Hunger Games!

District Name Age
1 Male Copper Hart 18
1 Female Nescaliar Bohemia 13
2 Male Sparkle Confetti 17
2 Female Blair Demetria 15
3 Male Zap Techno 12
3 Female Belladonna Saware 17
4 Male Pirate Mast 12
4 Female Alcyone Aquiver 15
5 Male Fire Strike 17
5 Female Illuminate Sensorium 15
6 Male Doomsday Terror 17
6 Female Acura Acelca 15
7 Male Blaise Cooper 15
7 Female Dani Granite 17
8 Male Velour Coudre 18
8 Female Adelaide D'Eye 18
9 Male No. B. Ody 16
9 Female Aurora Anderson 17
10 Male Maiko Fornis 13
10 Female Tia Adora 12
11 Male Johnny Picker 12
11 Female Talarie Neko 16
12 Male Liam Mina 16
12 Female Zipporah "Zippy" Houston 14


The arena is entirely flat, so the crowd on the outside can see everything going on inside, and, from everywhere in the arena, the tributes can see every single Capitol citizen. There are no places to hide. The arena is quite small, with 1 9x9 square, the real street beneath the arena, in the center, where the Cornucopia is. Along the sidelines, 8 8x8 wedges make the arena a circle. Each wedge is a different color. From the bottom of the Cornucopia, going right: Purple, Blue, Green, Red, Orange, Yellow, Pink, and White. After an hour in 1 wedge, a mutt will be released, but so will a small, perfectly edible food source. Water depends on the generosity of the watching Capitol. At 12 PM each day, an earthquake will echo the land. Remember that this arena is so tiny, that anyone can see anyone else.


District 1:

The first Reaping of the year. Luckily, it is a happy mood in our luxury district. Proud kids cluster in groups. They quarrel amongst themselves of who has the honor of going to the Games. This year, the arguing is even more frenzied, for every young Career dreams of staring right into the face of cheering crowds.

Arriving to the Reaping is a scowling boy, with a grandmother hurrying along behind. "Now, Copper," The woman whispers. "Please don't-"

"I'll do what I please, lady!" Copper growls. Nodding, the grandmother grabs a little girl's hand and dashes for the stands. She knows how powerful her grandson is, she knows how he was changed after the accident that killed his father. She will leave him in peace, love him from a distance.

On the girl's side, a young girl with brown bangs but red hair struts jauntily into the 13-year old girl's section. As you look at her, you see this girl is living proof that younger kids aren't to be underestimated. She looks just as powerful as the victors that line the stage.

Speaking of the stage, at just this time up steps the escort, Gossamer. Gossamer grins down at the crowd, and rubs her fairy wings, while giving a little flutter sound with her mouth, as if she is blowing kisses to the crowd but at the same time laughing.

Two big blowers on the side of gossamer pelt out jewelry and diamonds over the eligibles, who shriek with delight. The Reaping is simply a party for them. "Are we ready to Reap some tributes?"

"YES!" Mouths open, hands ball into fists, legs get set in a running position.

Gossamer sticks her hand over the girl's bowl.  "I volunteer!" "I voluntee!" "I volunt!" "I volun!" "I volu!" "I!" A crowd of girl's scream, but each gets less and less far into the two words. Our young girl has said it first. She will be our tribute.

The Living Proof walks to the podium. She smiles and waves at the crowd. "Hey, District 2! My name's Nescaliar Bohemia, and I will beat Finnick Odair as the youngest victor!"

The crowd erupts, jewelry is launched onto Nescaliar, who waves it around and poses for pictures. At a slight push from Gossamer, though, Nescaliar goes aside and it is time to choose a boy.

Gossamer's hand hovers over the boys' bowl. "I volunteer!" Calls out a string of boys.

"How" Gossamer points to a red-haired boy who fairly skips up to the stage. "My name is Michael Quack!" He says excitedly. "And I am your next victor!"

"No, I am." The voice is calm and cool, but underneath the "don't mess with me" image is plain. The tall blondie we saw earlier steps to the stage, and stares straight into Michael's eyes.

His eyes do it all, his very presence seems to instill fear. Michael shrinks down, wills himself smaller. "Uh, right," he mumbles. "I, uh, meant to say that Copper Hart will be, uh, our next victor!" Michael, scared out of his wits, runs back to the ground as Copper nods to the crowd, and Nescaliar and Copper get onto the train.

District 2:

The people of the masonry district gather excitedly amongst the square. On the sidelines, whispering adults and younger children ask each other, "Who will it be? Who will fight to the death? I hope it's my son! My sis, I know, will win!"

The children eligible to be Reaped stand silent, each having a battle in their own mind. "I will volunteer!" Say some, but others, especially the younger ones, stare wide-eyed at the poofy-haired escort and think, "Please don't let me be Reaped!"

In the section for the girls, the 15 year old's roped-off quarters to be precise, a girl stands apart from the rest. In her hand lies a small starfish, and in the girl's eyes you can spot that she is dangerous, but that is not all to her character. Under that protective covering is a sad girl who misses her family and desperately wants a better life. There is more to her than meets the eye.

Late to the Reaping, a boy who looks like he belongs at a rambunctious party hurries through the crowds, after saying a hasty good-bye to his parents, with scronful faces jutting at him, and a little sister, whom he gives a hug to. The boy dashes through to the 17 year old's section, his mass of sparkling hair falling over his eyes. "I don't know how I let Mom and Dad talk me into this," He mumbles.

Enough talk, the escort, poofy hair a mile tall,  steps to the podium. "Welcome, welcome District 2! Are you ready to Reap some winning tributes?"

The District cheers, flocks of annoyed birds stream from the nearby trees. "Ladies first!"

"I volunteer!" It is the girl with the starfish. The assembled crowd starts to cheer, the kids at least, especially boys. It is clear this girl will not struggle in her love life. The girl slips the starfish into her pocket as she makes her way up to the escort.

"Now, sweetie, what's your name?"

"Blair Demetria." The voice has no emotion, but the green eyes look far away from the Reaping, as if Blair is somewhere else. Then, Blair smiles and returns to the present. "Yes, Blair Demetria! And I will win this for my parents and aunt!"

The crowd erupts, but now it is the boys' turn. "Sparkle!" Calls a reprimanding voice from the stands. "Oh, all right, mother, I haven't forgotten...I volunteer as tribute blah, blah, blah!"

The sparkling-hair boy saunters up to the stage and faces his district. "My name-" Bow, bow. "is Sparkle Confetti!" Bow, bow. Sparkle throws out his hands. "And I will be your next victor!"

The crowd explodes as Blair and Sparkle step onto the train.

District 3:

The crowd here is more somber than in the last two districts. This one is not a Career. Slowly, people file out of buildings, leaving experiments in various stages. Each is hoping, "My Jimmy can't be Reaped. Mama,  Susie won't be Reaped, will she?"

The tributes have already assembled, and are staring, nauseated, at the podium, where a lady, looking a lot like a cat and introducing her name as "Kitty" stands. They all hate the Capitol, with all their might. The Capitol has killed off their brothers and sisters and mothers and fathers. Now it might kill off them.

Inside the 17-year old's section, a girl wearing ripped-up jeans and a t-shirt with oil stains laughs with her friends. "C'mon, Anna, don't cry! You know I'll volunteer for you! Good one, Tina, think all the skills I've acquired acting like a boy will help me in the Games?"

This girl is obviously not afraid. She is happy. She will take life, come what may.

On the boys' side, a blondie stares at the stage, silent, and you can see a tear forming in his eyes. Suddenly, he belts out, "I HATE YOU, CAPITOL! YOU KILLED MY MA!"

On that note, the square falls silent. Kitty steps up to the stage. "You hate the Capitol, little boy? Maybe a trip there would change your mind?"

The boy quickly shakes his head no, and bites his lip, mad at himself for bursting out and wondering what will happen to him.

"I insist!" Kitty starts on the offensive. "We can get you a trip, right here, right now! The easiest way would be to make you a tribute, so consider yourself Reaped, young man!"

"NO!" The boy moans. Hee pushes through his friends, dives over the tape saying "Twelve Boys". He dives through to the fourteen year old section, Peacekeepers hot on his heels. But luckily for him, the other kids are on his side. One strong 15-year old tosses him to someone in the section for sixteens, then he is passed to a seventeen year old before Peackeepers close in and carry the kicking and struggling young boy to the stage.

"Be a good boy!" Kitty's mouth goes in close, the child can see fangs. "What's your name?"

"Z-zap Techno."

"Be a good boy, Zap. Peacekeepers, escort him to the train, will you? I think maybe he should take a little nap. Now for the girls!" Kitty crows, ignoring Zap's cries of protest as he is lead away.

"Now, let's hope we have a good girl this time! How about...Anna Mayfield!"

A cry goes up from the girl's section. It is the Anna the tomboy was chatting with earlier. Anna looks pleadingly at the girl in the jeans. "Please, please, you promised!"

The girl frowns in determination. "A promise is a promise. Anna, you are safe, I guarantee that. I will try to come home, or send someone worthy home." Then, raising her voice, she shouted. "I am Belladonna Saware, and I volunteer!"

Kitty looks pleasantly surprised. "A volunteer! Well, then! Come up to the stage, Bella!"

"It's Belladonna!" Belladonna growls. She tosses her head back and walks off, ahead of Kitty, to the train, giving Anna a confident smile as the two disappear from each other's view.

District 4:

The calm sea gently foams around the feet of the tributes. The sea district is certainly one of the most pleasant. The mood here is relaxed, some happy, some sort of scared, but the overall feeling in this district is laid-back.

Except for a boy walking with a light step and a maniac smile into the 12-year-old boy's section. Even the teenagers step away from him. "He sunk his father's boat!" They whisper. "He killed his mother with a kitchen knife!" And others, "He's just downright creepy!"

But the boy doesn't seem to mind the fearful whisperings. If anything, he enjoys them, enjoys the petrified looks on the faces of peers as he walks toward them, fists balled, giving a smile with all his teeth. He likes to see them run.


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