Prologue, my darlings.

Each chapter will be titled after a song, (copying JabberjayHeart trololol) and the song for this chapter is Frontier Psychiatrist by The Avalanches.

Head Gamemaker

Locas Slythe

A little timidly, I knock on the door. Not once, not twice, but three times. One or two would have seemed too general, too calm, but three is quite firm. Any more than that would have sounded like some needy child.

"Locas, is that you?"

"Yes."

"Come in."

I obey automatically, briskly pushing the door open and eyeing the room before planting myself down on a chair next to President Forland's, offering a little smile that she neglects.

Forland glances at the contraption in my lap. "Hologram projector, I see. Go ahead and set it up." Without a sound, I set up the projector, angling it specifically so the hologram won't get in the way of anything.

I press my finger down on a maroon button and the entire arena displays itself before us.

The woman stands up out of her chair and begins to circle around the hologram, tapping her nail on her chin thoughtfully. Once she's cycled around about four times, she pauses and turns to face me.

"It's rather queer, at first glance. Tell me, Locas, what is it?"

"It is, to be specific, an insane asylum. A place for the mentally ill." I can't help the grin that spreads across my face. "The last one was demolished during the Dark Days, but they had many before Panem began. Fantastic, right?"

She doesn't smile, ignoring my last comment. "Go on."

"As you can see, there are five floors of the arena. The Cornucopia will be located on the third floor, right in the middle, and from there the tributes can choose if they would like to go up or down. They can also choose if they would like to use the stairs or the elevator, though neither are too reliable."

"What sorts of things are on the floors?" Forland questions, squinting at the small Cornucopia.

"Most of the floors are just rooms and bathrooms, though the second floor holds the cafeteria and such things. The rooms start getting more secure by the fourth floor, in which the rooms become similar to cells, with tough locks on the doors and the rooms being filled with just a bed built into the ground. Then, by the fifth floor, the rooms are simply padded cells."

"Padded?"

"Yes. A very long time ago, padded cells were made to ensure that the person inside didn't hurt themselves or anyone else." I explain, remembering how giddy I was when I was first told about this.

By the look in her eyes, I can tell that Forland is happy with this arena, though she never lets much emotion slip through her sharply-crafted features. "Also, President Forland, there is one more thing about this arena."

"Which is?"

I smile. "Never mind what it is. It's brilliant, and that's all you need to know.

Now that I have all the tributes, the blog is ready for y'all to look at. The URL is asylum hg . blogspot . com without the spaces.

As a few of you may see, your tributes aren't exactly how you imagined. I apologize for this, but it's most likely because I couldn't find an exact match or the look-alike you gave me didn't look exactly like your tribute.

Also, your character shall die if you don't review. I want people that care about their tribute to be able to watch them grow and get farther into the Games and all those nice things, ya know?

Once you've had a little look at the blog, please answer this question:

*Who are your eight favorite tributes, based on the blog?

(Along with a little explanation of why, if you don't mind.)

Thanks to everyone who submitted! :D

~That boy needs therapy; psychosomatic. The boy needs therapy; purely psychosomatic. That boy needs therapy. Lie down on the couch, what does that mean? You're a nut! You're crazy in the coconut!~

Frontier Psychiatrist by The Avalanches