The Third Annual Writer's Game: Roots

Introduction

There'd been chatters amongst the Capitolites for weeks: Florence Fanta, back from retirement, back for another game to try and bring back her reputation. Was it all talk, rumors to spiral in the vain hope of them suddenly being true? Or had she come back from the shadows after several years behind the scenes in an attempt to redeem herself? No one could tell - no one knew for sure what exactly was happening behind the pristine metal doors of the Gamemaker's suite, except for the Gamemakers themselves. And boy, did they have a story to tell...

*

"There have been...discussions," Fanta said. "Untimely, worrying, discussions. The districts feel as though we've loosened the reins, made the games more tolerable, less hostile and gory. We need a change. We need a complete overthrow of the system we've been using. We're a joke! Now all it is are these games that either seem reminiscent of quells or scarcely noticeable at all! Different names, different challenges, it's a mess every time! Honestly, how people haven't gotten tired of the same old stuff disguised as new baffles me, don't you agree, Dosque?"

"Absolutely, Ms. Fanta, I've had my workers formulating an arena for weeks, but I've fired many for adding undue changes to my vision."

Florence Fanta was older now. Her signature orange hair had paled, and though her skin gleamed still, rather than it be natural beauty, her ageless face was now the work of cosmeticians. Her skin had faded to an orange pallor, and the first time she came to Headquarters with white nails rather than orange, her assistant had nearly fainted. Yet her determination had not left her; her vision had not abandoned her, even after the last few years had brought her only headache. It was true, though—it had been her decision to step back after the fiascos of her previous games—she had needed a break to collect herself that turned into several years as game after game under the new Gamemakers were suddenly in style. Fantastical islands, mythological beasts...people suddenly wanted new and extravagant until Panem had become weak and rebellious.

"I want new people on the job, a new master of ceremonies; we need sponsors and proper tributes and muttations. We need to show them they aren't safe, even while lulling them into comfort. They'll believe my game to just be a throwback to the old formatting, but barely anyone today can remember what they were like."

"Should there be a Quell, Ms. Fanta?" came another voice, sat at the end of the long white table they and several other officials were seated at. The meeting had begun a half hour before, and though the room had originally been filled with twenty or so people, it had now dwindled to seven: the last remaining loyal workers.

"Oh, heavens no. There's no need for a Quell, Victinius. The point of fear is showing these tributes can be damaged beyond repair even without a Quell. The people need to be brought back to what started it all. A regular game, no hidden meaning besides bringing the reigns of Panem back into the rider's hands rather than the horse."

Things were just getting started.

**DISCLAIMER: I IN NO WAY HATE ANY SORT OF NEW IMAGINATIVE GAME OUT THERE TODAY YOU ALL ARE WONDERFUL CREATIVE GAMEMAKERS FAR BETTER THAN I**

Coming February 13, 2016