riverviewlogs | Player Plot: Paint Ball Battle

Entry tags:

Player Plot: Paint Ball Battle

who: Open to All
what: The Annual Paintball War.
when: 17/01
where: The Jungle + The Hot Springs
warnings: Violence, Swearing and Nudity. The Tarantino Experience.

The Game

It’s a chilly morning when the competitors gather in the jungle for the competition, there are still thin layers of ice and snow on the rocks and leaves and the air is cool and crisp. All competitors are outfitted with a full set of equipment, including a paintball gun, a battle pack (a set of 5 colours, 10 of each colour except for three, glittery pods), protective eyewear, a face mask (in a variety of colours and patterns) and camouflage clothing.

Players are transported in groups (but not teams) of five into different sections of the jungle. The Perimeter guards monitor the outskirts and the boundaries are marked with flags.

Each team is told the general rules of play, which are as follows:

You are given a set of 5 colours, 10 of each and 3 glitter bombs

Each colour has a different effect on its target, summed up with one word.

You need to be hit with 3 different colours or one glitter bomb to be “killed”

Use glitter bombs wisely, you only get three.

Each coloured pod has a word written on it, in its designated colour. The colours, words and effects are as follows:

Red- “Over-confidence”
Being hit with red makes you irrational, your decisions are stupid and poorly thought out. This makes you an easy target.

Blue- “Rhythm”
You are compelled to sing and dance. Every step you take is jazzy, you can’t stop trying to move to the music in your mind. You’re compelled to rhyme or sing every thought you have, to a maddening degree.

Purple- “Flirtatious”
You are now feeling flirtatious. Your mind is off the prize and on your teammates and enemies. They become your focus instead.

Pink- “Ditzy”
You’re feeling distracted. Your focus is shot and you can’t stop spacing out. Your imagination is running wild and you see things out of the corner of your eye. You also can’t stop yourself from chattering away.

Glitter:
Glitter’s effects are long term. The glitter stays on you for weeks after, in your hair and faintly sparkling on your skin. It’s also an instant out, meaning you must leave the game once you’ve been hit with one.

The winner is the one who makes it out without being hit by three different colours or a glitter bomb.

The Hot Springs

After the war is over, paintballers can retreat to the hot springs. For characters over 18, there are washrooms set up before you enter, there are two segregated by gender (but not heavily monitored either way), with a third for those who don’t identify as either gender or for those who don’t care who they see or who sees them naked.

Assisting one another in a scrub down is encouraged, since there will be paint where your arms can’t reach. There are stools to sit on with scrubbing brushes, clothes and a wide variety of delicious smelling soaps to help wipe away the paint.

The glitter will not come off.

Once you’re clean, you’re welcome to soak in the warm waters of the spring. There is a nude spring (over 18s only) and a clothed spring for younger characters. There are soft, fuzzy bathrobes and towels for modesty outside of the spring.

The Lounge

There is a buffet of delicious, wintery foods to warm you up. Hot soups, curry, roasted meats and vegetables as well as finger foods such as cold meats and cheeses, crackers and breads. Fresh fruits, steamed and fresh vegetables and a variety of dips. On the dessert table there are mini pies, tarts and cakes to choose from for dessert.

In the lounge is a hot chocolate bar with a variety of different chocolates, marshmallows, creams, sprinkles and alcohols for the adults who need an extra kick.

The tables are set indoors, in a small but cozy lodge. There is a large fire that warms the room well and dozens of couches, lazy boys, hammocks and beanbags to settle into. The room is filled with lanterns and candles and it’s the perfect time to regale one another with stories of victory and tragedy from the war.

The lounge is open from the beginning of the game, large TV screens will play shots of the game with commentary from a number of people. Those who are unwilling or uninterested in participating can stay in the lounge as long as they like. This means that they can enjoy the thrill of the competition from the comfort of a nice, warm chair.

The winners are posted here.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Ava doesn't really... get the game.

Not that she can't wrap her head around the rules, it's just that it's a little strange to her. Watching people pick up guns and dressing in camo, some even streaking their faces with grease paint as they head off into the jungle. And yet they act like this is play. As SHIELD kept her very well-unacquainted with video games, it's a hard premise to really relate to. So while Ava comes to play, she doesn't really have any intentions aside from checking in on a few people, and possibly shooting at a couple others.

Pierce is on the list of someone she's checking in on, arguably. Which is a polite way to say that there's a petite redhead in all white (she ditched the camo for her own bodysuit, thanks) stalking him through the trees. It says something to how good Ava is that even given her coloring for the day, most don't catch her. She doesn't stay in one place, doesn't keep her focus on him intent, but makes sure to watch the others as well. Notes for later, something to follow up on.

Her gun is against her back, across her chest. The one she grabbed had a long barrel, clearly a weapon for distance shots. If she was more invested, she'd be dangerous. As it is, she just slips through the trees like a whisper. She tries to stay clear of his companions, but with Pierce she pushes closer, trying to gauge in a situation like this- where he should be more alert than usual- just how far out he can read her. Just how sharp is he?

Paintball guns don't sound like gunshots, but the sound still keeps her hackles raised.]

[The jungle had many places to hide, but apparently there were enough Perimeter guards monitoring so that the only predators that they were likely to face were each other. Many dressed for the occasion, but he had noted that a few did not. It was a testament to skill that blending in didn't require a change of dress. He recognized many of the participants as those who might take great pleasure knocking him out of the running - not that anyone believe the group of three older people actually stood a chance.

Once in the forest, he set off with his team of two battle-hardened and skilled ladies. All three of them were tactical minds, and they fell into a rhythm far easier than one should as they moved for find a corner of the jungle that was defensible and allow them to use the terrain to their advantage. They weren't particularly anything special, but they were determined. They used hand signals with each, followed the lead of one another in a skilled ebb and flow.

In normal situations, Pierce was a politician. It had been a long time since he had seen active combat, but his senses had long ago been honed. His sense of awareness of himself and his surroundings was at its pique, and he proved that when he turned his head sharply when he sensed there was someone out there. Someone who could melt into and out of the foliage. His eyes flicked around and he bunkered down, not even ashamed of laying right into the soft soil.

Beyond him, Skywalker and Holdo were nearby. However, he was aware that it was him who was currently being stalked. He understood the risks of this game; someone could sneak in real bullets and a real gun if they so choose.]

[He lays down on the ground and she goes still. Watching. He knows she's there; she counts the distance in her head, makes a note of it for later. But she doesn't back off, either. Instead she slips in closer, using the cover to her advantage, but there's a flicker of something white in his peripheral. The fact that there's no shot that comes likely hints at this being something other than a game of paintball.

If she'd been intending to use bullets, she wouldn't have taken the time. She'd have wanted there to be no sense that anything was wrong until it was too late. Red blood could seem like red paint at first glance, to those that didn't know any better. But he was with a group; she'd have to disable his companions or drag him far enough away from them to be effective. And she wasn't willing to do the former, and he was too sharp for the later.

She lets him catch that glimpse of white and then she drops to the ground, soundlessly, letting the body of the tree and the low brush hide her from sight. She wonders if he can put a name to the ghost in the woods without her red hair, or if she'll have to come out and say hello.]

[The white amid the foliage was enough to let him know exactly who was haunting his area without actually taking a killing or paintball shot. He had read the file often enough to know the intimate details of it, so he had no need to catch sight of red hair to understood that it was Ava who had come along to see what he could do. He almost gave up the ghost and pretended he was unaware to lead her into a false sense of security, but he was competitive by nature and not even her skills were going to steal this moment from him.

He crawled on elbows and thighs to ease himself into an area with a bit more cover before rolling onto his back, turning his head to find where Organa and Holdo were stationed, but at their distance, it would be ill-advised to get their attention. It would be too dangerous.

Instead, he locked and loaded his ammunition - red - and waited for the next flicker of white. He didn't fire at it but on either side and above as well, deciding to waste three shots in order to see what she was about. This was not the time nor the place to have a conversation after all.]

[No, this wasn't the time for their usually circular discussion, sparring matches hidden behind words, ones that he always won. This was something else entirely. He was out of his element and into one that suited her better. She was baiting him, flitting around the edges, appearing and vanishing because she knew what he could do with words, she was testing what the kindly old man that managed to slice with words sharper than blades was capable of out in the woods.

He was far enough she didn't think his companions would make it back in range, not before she'd managed to have her fun, at least. His reflexes are fast; the next time she fades into view, there are three rounds. Two at each side, one above her head, blood red paint that splatters the tree. She can read the air, trajectory, knows the angle she's giving him, but the feel of it still twists something in her like a knife. But she takes in the details too; the timing, the inches, consistency.

Her eyes glow, that flutter of bright blue, involuntary, comes the heartbeat before the shots land. She's too heady with adrenaline to quite notice, as she twists away, but light tends to make something of a marker in the dark of the forest. Is it a ruse, a trap? Hard to tell. But he's read her file, seen the way her eyes glow when he managed to spike her emotions.

Are you going to take the shot? The way she weaves around him, like a flicker, is almost like a dance, but something far more vicious. She still doesn't bother with her own gun, because that's not the point. She isn't here to play at all, at least not their game.]

[Pierce had read her file, probably more of it than she actually realized that he had on hand too. She wouldn't know that he knew what a glow of the eyes meant and that in such contests that he knew he was outclassed. That wasn't the point. She was playing with him thinking that she had all the cards, but he was waiting to see just how those powers of hers worked, how her emotions seemed to have some effect on when and where they came to be.

His eyes moved to catch sight of the next flicker of blue or white against the green foliage, but he didn't take another shot. He was watching, studying and considering the next move in her little bird of paradise dance. If she had wanted to shoot him, she would have done it by now. No, he thought she was testing this field and where he happened to stand on it.

He had been a good soldier. He had been a good leader.

Slowly, he eased from his back to his stomach again, returning to the battle where the sound of people engaging each other was heard. He rose slightly and headed closer towards his own team, keeping a weathered eye on what Miss Orlova planned on doing or if her dance would simply continue.]

[To be fair, Ava had no real idea what was in her file. How much of that was SHIELD, how much of it was HYDRA? Was there a difference? Where were the lines? She knew that HYDRA was part of history, but the details she wasn't entirely certain of. Had there been anyone in her life that wasn't some flavor of monster aside from Sana?

She'd managed to pull apart some pieces from the files Natasha had dumped on the internet, but none of what she'd found had been hers.

He doesn't take another shot, and for a moment they're both watching each other. He's better than she'd thought that he'd be, which makes her honestly glad that she'd gone through this whole exercise. It made him more interesting, not that she'd ever admit that to his face. But now she's having to think this through, which of them is leading who?

Something to be careful of as she moved, angling to cut off his route to join his teammates, which would put them up close and face-to-face if he wasn't careful. She wasn't entirely sure if he'd shy from it or not, under the circumstances. She wasn't entirely sure which she was hoping for. She hasn't lost her grip on this, she's not slipping, he hasn't spun this yet, but outside of testing him, this was all vague and nebulous.

But this wasn't something he could win. She didn't think so, anyway. He knew what she was capable of. Logic and the fact that he seemed to want to win said that he shouldn't want a face-to-face confrontation. Right?]

[Ava did not move on when he instead made a move to return to the paintball contest and his chosen allies. He suspected that she wasn't so easily put off of him not wasting any more of his rounds on her - they were precious and limited - and he was shrewd enough to know that waste had an opportunity to lose him everything, even if it was all supposed to be good fun. He still had a very competitive spirit at heart.

He lifted his head to survey his surroundings before rising from crawling to a low run where he used foliage, vines and the trees themselves as cover to hide his motions as he carefully covered ground back. He knew she was moving in, that she would at least follow and likely try to cut him off from returning to the actual game that was being played.

That they ended up practically nose-to-nose was not surprising for him. He didn't raise his paintball gun from where it was held in his hands either. Instead, her being right there forced a stop and him to drop to one knee behind a tree to use it as cover. He rested his paintball gun on the raised knee, his finger removed from the trigger to prevent any accidental discharge.

He might have wanted to win the game, but he also was perfectly willing to set aside time for the war as well. His greatest weapon was words, and here she was right before him.]

Miss Orlova, you appear to be wearing a truce flag as your entire uniform. Or are you here showing off?

[She knows that engaging, continuing to engage when Pierce always seems to manage the upper hand is probably a bad idea. But she needs to keep an eye on him, keep him in her sights, and so the moments like this keep piling up. And yet, it's like she told Bucky- she knows she could kill him, objectively, but she can never bring herself to do it. Her paintball gun, transparently more of a sniper rifle than most is still across her back, shoulder strap across her chest.

She faces him, watches the way that he positions himself, finger off the trigger. He has friends, teammates not so far away, but here they are. She's too stubborn to back down, at least not yet. That's at least part of her problem, just maybe not all of it. Something about him, about the way he pushes, seems to unerringly catch on her soft spots that keeps her in his orbit, no matter how bitter such facts might be.]

Oh, truce would almost certainly be the wrong way to read it. But, I'm not really here to show off, either. Just some people I wanted to check on. You happened to catch my eye.

[It's only a lie in the implication that she wasn't looking for him. Hardly even a lie, in that they both understand it as a false premise, a conversational conceit. He was on her list of people, just not as a friend. There was just this undeniable sort of gravity that kept her from being able to leave things alone. A fear that other people might get caught in it, that she wouldn't see it coming.

It's what she told herself, anyway.]

[By now, Alexander was used to the idea that she would be haunting his steps, engaging him on a level that very few would. It was likely also unfair to her that she did, since he had so far managed to push her outside of her boundaries more often than she had even managed to nudged him beyond his. Her experience was never based around the word game or even the long game. She was an agent based on reacting; he was certain that she had her secrets, but since he had read her file over and over, he understood that there was much that she couldn't understand about herself.

Maybe that was why he saw no reason at present to move passed her to rejoin the game. He doubted this interaction would be long, not with the threat of being shot with various coloured paints a constant. He couldn't dodge nearly as well as she could, but the object wasn't always to dodge after all. She stood out far more than he did with his cover and grease paint. He grab what advantages he could; she stood defiant to the need for colour advantage.]

And yet by the nature of your outfit, you are showing off. You're saying to those here that your skills are better than ours, that you haven't the need to actually blend in as we the commoners must.

[It wasn't anything in particular to pick on, and yet it was. He slowly pushed out the notion that they both knew she was special, but he went about it in that he picked on her choice of dress. Like her saying that she was better meant she looked down upon them all as she was above 'playing the game' in such a way. For some, they would find her attitude extremely irritating.]

Perhaps now that you've found me, you should move on to the others here that are of interest to you.

Or maybe I just like sticking to my theme, and I'm willing to risk the handicap that comes with it?

[He was right, in a way. She liked the familiarity of the suit she'd chosen after she'd given up on the one she'd worn in the Academy. Still white, but there'd been a symbol, it had meant something, but here she's given up on all that. She keeps the red boots and the black belt, but the identity of the Red Widow didn't mean anything to anyone. Neither did Winterstorm, but it wasn't so tied up in someone else.

Bucky, maybe, but that was a special subject all on its own. But she also acknowledged that she was good enough, special enough, that it wasn't really much of a handicap. It wouldn't be unreasonable if there was one or two people that saw her and wanted to take her down a peg or two. It just wouldn't work out too well.

James had told her to stop poking him, but he'd cornered her at that dance, pushed her so her breath caught and it felt like the walls were too close. Shooting him might have been tempting, but she could never entirely sell herself on the idea. That it was the right choice. And there were pieces he had, something in between the lines that made it so she never stayed away too long.]

Don't sell yourself quite so short. Besides, I'm the one they'll shoot at here.

Grasping onto something familiar, is it?

[Pierce smiled behind his paint, taking pause in the conversation to check his ammunition and to listen for the sounds of combat in other areas of the selected jungle. He knew that they were being watched, and it seemed a shame to have a conversation when there didn't seem a need or point to actually shoot one another. This was not the battle field that they normally played in after all.

That she was here and not actually playing didn't surprise him. She could be allergic to having fun. Who knew! Or she didn't have any allies close enough to pair off with, not that he was friends with Holdo and Organa, but they had made it a mission to show what older people were capable of and those bonds knit quickly.

He was almost eager to get back to it, but he waited as he set his rifle on his knee and looked around to make certain no one was sneaking up on him.]

I'm sure you have the skill to avoid being shot. I know of your training after all. Why dally with an old man when surely you have friends to shoot?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Player Plot: Paint Ball Battle

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