all seeing eyes | mallo & jovis | Hunger Games: The RPG

mat
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all seeing eyes | mallo & jovis Dec 31, 2023 22:03:59 GMT -5

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Post by mat on Dec 31, 2023 22:03:59 GMT -5

J O V I S.

The loudspeaker overhead boomed commands to the workers lugging the stone arches into the arena. "I don't know how much it cost to chisel those, but it's not within the government's budget to pay it twice." A man in all black stood, attentive to the entire stadium as it was being set up. Preparations for the Ninth Hunger Games were well underway and with Jovis Azzaro at the helm, standards were high. He held a clipboard, writing notes and copying down future instructions for tomorrow's finalizations.

To be at the head of an event as prestigious as this in Panem? He fumed with excitement. It was all he spoke about at the dinner table; his plans to become a household name in the Capitol were coming closer and closer to fruition. He was more than the deputy warden of the Capitol's Rebel Prison. Another title band struck his wrist: Gamemaker Jovis Azzaro.

"We want them to compete for the shade. No food or water combined with the heavy heat means they'll be dehydrated before they even set foot there. Dire conditions to serve your sentence in." It would be dishonest for Jovis to suggest he didn't get joy out of the thought of these kids gasping for water. Next, it'd be the air for them to breathe. Their families deserved to be punished, and what better way to reprimand them than to use what they cared most about as leverage? Their children. Twas the spirit of the Hunger Games, in Jovis's eyes. Tradition. And he was all for tradition.

One of Jovis's aids tapped him on the shoulder. "Sir, uh…" Impatient from the stuttering, Jovis removed his glasses and turned back. "Hmm?"

"Ms. Malachei is here to speak with you? She's here to discuss setting up close-up cameras in the arena."

Ah, yes. Mallo. He remembered the appointment now. They'd selected her by hand for her eye for a good camera angle. Some sort of media star after the Dark Days. Jovis never saw a video of hers, but perhaps that was because he had more important things to invest his time in. Climbing the social ladder of the Capitol, for example.

"I would love for you to send her in," he tried desperately to remember his aid's name, but his snapping fingers only helped him to recall that he was an intern who juggled eight cups of coffee in every morning for the past week. "I'm sorry. Please, do tell me your name again."

"Mason, sir."

Ah, yes! He wrote the on the bottom corner of his clipboard. Jason. "Yes. I apologize. Please, send Mallory in."

Jovis set the clipboard on the table and slid his hands into his pockets. Footsteps approached from behind. "Mallory Malachei! Or Mallo, I hear. Please, come in." He didn't dare turn. Jovis knew the moment his eyes wandered, someone would make a mistake.

The Hunger Games could not afford mistakes.

minie
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all seeing eyes | mallo & jovis Jan 13, 2024 6:32:05 GMT -5

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Post by minie on Jan 13, 2024 6:32:05 GMT -5

Dad gave me a kiss on the cheek as I headed out the door for my first day at my first real job. Never have I ever seen my mother filled with so much pride. Take a picture or a shot. Anaise’s laugh accompanied my lonely elevator ride down. A deal we had made back during our first year of university, every new experience would get captured in a picture to be locked up in box that in twenty years we would open up. Take a shot, now that was just for the fun of being young and dumb.

Those years were over, my parents made sure of it. I could feel them slipping away with each step I took in the direction of the Arena. A simple job really, produce a spectacle, make the spectators believe in a story. Make it more than a punishment, make it unforgettable.

Like I said, simple really.

My heart pounded inside my chest as I stood, looking up to the giant arena before me. History embedded in it’s walls leaving me wishing that they could talk. Alone the spiders that could be seen crawling between the stone cracks must have had interesting stories to tell. The ones of those before the dark days, where sporting matches were held and those of the hunger games. The lives of the tributes that were lost on those grounds. The stories that could be told were endless, but I am to concentrate on the ones that are just beginning.

In only days the games would begin and for all it was worth, my cameras would be the deciding factor of what is broadcasted throughout the country. Whose name would be remembered and who would disappear into the many pages of history?

A man with a clipboard stood at the entrance talking to what I assumed was a construction worker or some other kind of handyman. ”Excuse me, I’m Mallory Malachei and I am supposed to have an appointment with Gamemaker Azzaro to go over the layout of the cameras. Could you point me in the right direction?”

He held up his finger as he scanned the clipboard in his hand, ”One second, Ms. Malachei” he rushed off into the arena leaving me alone at the entrance.

An awkward silence lingered in the air as I politely smiled to those around me working. My purse swinging back and forth in an attempt to occupy the seconds of waiting; however, it felt a lot longer than a few seconds till the man returned ushering me to follow him into the arena.

The sound of my high heels echoed against the stone floor as I was brought up to the Gamemakers who’s back remained towards me even when speaking. He knew my name. Well of course he knew my name, I assumed most people in the Capitol have heard of me at this point. Even if they did not bother to watch my content, it was hard to ignore. My work in restoration could not easily be forgotten, despite my parents belittling my efforts at every opportunity they got.

”Mallory is just fine, sir”, I dared not to laugh at the idea of anyone in this industry referring to me by my online persona. ”Mallo is a media name, does not seem quite right to use it in this setting.”

My eyes wandered to the clipboard he had set down on the table beside him, a sketch of what the Arena were to look like when everything would be set up. Obviously a work in progress, but not far from the image that was displayed so clearly on the table. ”May I?” signaling to the clipboard. Drone cameras would provide excellent arial shoots of the arena, but if they were really hoping to capture the suffering on some poor kid’s face, they would have to do much better than that. Hide them in plain sight, predict where the tributes would focus their attention on and make sure they could not immediately tell a camera was there. Authenticity was everything, and no one was ever their true self when they knew they were being filmed.

I would know, I built a career on just that.

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mat
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all seeing eyes | mallo & jovis Jan 30, 2024 1:40:34 GMT -5

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Post by mat on Jan 30, 2024 1:40:34 GMT -5

J O V I S.

Mallory is just fine. Unlike his assistant, Jovis paid relative attention to what Mallory had to say. Her opinion, unlike most of the grunts in black shifting through the colosseum, mattered. 'Mallo' was just a stage name. Media work was rather unprofessional for this kind of business, but if this was the sort of expertise the higher-ups taught for footage, who was he to question it? Jovis scoffed at the premise of an "influencer" or "social media star." She couldn't be that much younger than him by the twinge of tepid maturity in her voice.

"May I?" Her footsteps got louder toward his side. Jovis raised a hand to grant permission for her to take a look at the project on his clipboard. They were sketches, mostly, of the pergolas being carted out into the arena. He and Dr. Ezra wanted the arena circle to be looming over the children, the threat of a multi-ton stone arch dropping on them at any given moment. Terror. It's what they deserved, and it was what their families deserved to witness as a punishment for the destruction they caused. The lives they ruined. Even the stones couldn't carry the weight of the Azzaro family's losses. Jovis wondered if this would all be enough to put the burning sensation of vengeance to rest.

"Your job is to set up cameras. I understand you're able to help us fully realize our vision." He turned to look at her for the first time. It was unprofessional, however. The length that he stared at her, that is. Her slick, dark hair. The sculpted coat (or dress, he wasn't quite sure what to call it) fit her quite well. More attractive than the man and woman he currently paid to show up at his complex every weekday.

Jovis tugged his collar and carried on. "Doctor Ezra and I are the visionaries here, no one else. The pergolas, the canopies, the uniforms." He flipped to the clipboard's next page, revealing more sketches of work clothes. "We have the weather reports for the arena's area down to the hour the Games are going to begin. It's going to be extremely warm and extremely humid. These are heavy-duty uniforms. I brought them in from the rebel prison I warden for." There was a sense of pride in his voice as he revealed more and more about the arena. His being named "Gamemaker" was barely announced, but he had to brag about every aspect of the role. "These are used for outdoor laboring in the winter, so the contrast will be satisfying to witness in the arena."

He pointed to the arena stage, where canopies and banners were now being draped across the stone. "There is going to be minimal shade in the arena. I want them to compete just to have an easy breath. Otherwise, we want the arena to resemble a glorified playground battlezone."

Jovis brought her forward to watch the dozens of workers filling tanks with hoses. "And, lastly, a fun reward if they play by the rules and kill each other." He grinned, proud of what had been accomplished so far. Every word he spoke made it more and more clear that he rode a power high, more excited by every new prospect and proposition.

"That's where you come in, Mallory. How can your cameras capture my vision for everyone to see? I can clear the arena floor for us if you'd like, that way we can get a bird's eye view– Jason!" He spoke pointedly to the back of the room, where his assistant acknowledged the request through the speaker.

"Shall we?" He asked, already halfway to the door.

minie
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all seeing eyes | mallo & jovis Apr 14, 2024 8:14:56 GMT -5

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Post by minie on Apr 14, 2024 8:14:56 GMT -5

As an artist, there was nothing more that I respected than someone’s creative vision. As someone who was used to be in control of her own projects. I despised the way Jovis talked at me. His voice was commanding, making it very clear what my role was in the whole ordeal. His vision (and maybe Ezra’s) was the only one that matter, never had I been restrained before in my creative freedom.

Everything he had listed was planned down to the very last detail, his voice gripping his vision unable to let it flow against the elements we could not control. The weather was a prediction, and I dared not speak against his vision not out of fear but because I could not care all too much of the job. It was simply just that, a task I had taken on out of obligation. If Jovis carried the passion, it would make my job simpler…boring but all that much easier. One round of the games to prove my parents I could be of use, and I would be back doing what I had loved.

“Don’t exactly clear the field….I need 24 people.”

One representing each tribute, it did not matter who was who. I wanted to use the time to place them in different positions around the arena, to get a feel for what the camera’s would see. I flipped through the sketches on the clipboard, attempting to gain a feel for the arena and it’s setting. His vision carefully crafted amongst the pages, my mind turning it’s gears already picking out the perfect hiding spots to place them in.

“I need then another team of 2-3 that will shift the camera’s as I instruct from a monitor room. You want to create a vision of suffering? Then you need to make sure the cameras are hidden.”

It was no secret that everyone shifted their personalities as soon they were being filmed. Authenticity was something known to lack in the industry. Even after years of documenting my life, I knew there was a difference between who I was in front of the camera and who I was when the lens was covered. It was apparent in everything including the name I went by, how I conducted myself in public and even my appearance. Most people, completely confused when they first meet me in person, predisposed to someone who made the decision to make her entire life public.

I would be lying if I said I did not have an identity crisis because of it.

“If you are putting all this effort into making them miserable, you can’t have them knowing when and from where they are being filmed. It ruins the effect…who knows what act they will be trying to put on just to save a little face back home. What is even better, how can you shift the cameras…jumping from one to the other to create an even bigger illusion of suffering.”

My ideas spilling, hoping to catch his attention. It was the very basics of what I had studied, but sometimes that is all you needed to argue a compelling case. I kept up with his pace as we headed out from the floor of the arena, a bird’s eye view allowing us to see what could be possible in the setting we had at our disposal.

“If we can place cameras in the corners of the pergolas, covered by some kind of plant or even work with reflection to keep them covered, you could easily capture what could be desperate hope. The idea they could have some shade before you rip it away from them. Make it dramatic if you know what I mean. Could you have the workers accumulate in groups under the pergolas? Give one of them these.”

I pulled out a small camera attached to a band you could wrap around your head.

“We need to see what they see if this is going to work.”

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