New year technology fair: Cocktail Creation extravaganza!

[k!ah]

C o c k t a i l        C r e a t i o n       C o m p e t i t i o n

Hi ho hi ho!! Calling all those who crave a fancy drink! Got a love for a good a fancy juice with a little kick? Or a desire for a mind-blowing cocktail that will truly knock your socks off? Come down to the cocktail bar and give us a good show. Create a drink that will have our tongues buzzing and our hearts humming! Create us a drink with an unforgettable name, a mind-blowing presentation, and a taste that will have our taste buds begging for more!

The rules:
- This competition will be based off three categories: taste, presentation and name.
- below you will post you submission with ic (minimum of 100 words) feel free to use pictures and other recourses to really sell us your dream cocktail.
- the competition will be out of 100, with the category breaks downs as follows: Taste will be a [r*oll range="1-50"], and presentation and name will be a [r*oll range="1-25"]
- the competitor with the highest accumulative score wins!
- you have until the 7th of January to submit your entry!

First place prize - A 5 bottles of your favourite liquor (ic ofc ;)) a plaque for bragging rights and 5 house extra points OOC.
Second place prize - A set of crystal cocktail glasses a plaque for bragging rights and 3 house extra points OOC.
Third place prize - A generously large packet of cocktail umbrellas and a plaque for bragging rights and 2 house extra points OOC.
All participants will gain 1 house point.

[parsnip]

Maven Sartorial's entry: Link

Taste: 10
Presentation: 22
Name: 17

Total: 47

[arctic]

Being friends with the Capitol twink has paid off for Theo. Capitolites are always scrounging to climb up the social ladder, and Theo takes advantage of that. Typically in the form of alcohol at bars, but he's happy to be given any other vice of pleasure. He doesn't know what he's doing here - honestly, outside of the panel he was summoned for, Theo doesn't have anything to do with technology. He'd rather be out in the field playing the game he loves, but that has seemed to go away as well. Theo hoped he'd be able to judge, pull a few strings, but he was denied the request. So he decided to pull out some recipe of a fruity little cocktail the Capitol gays enjoy. Something slapped together at Heaven's Gate, a newer bar that's got some white-clean aesthetic. Kind of boring compared to Last Dropp, the brother bar, but none of the gays Theo stands go there.

Anyway, he didn't spend much time at the station. He just wanted to get his hands on some liquor and store some in his cannister. Quickly mixing together the drink, he slapped it down on the table before moving on. "Drink up, losers." If they hated it, he hopes it makes them hate themselves the following morning.

taste
t|59fMpnuw1-50
presentation
1-25

name
1-25

1-50·1-25·1-25

[Kasia Karataeva D3F [Jorg]]

C O R A L E E

Coralee still can't fully get the sight of Emerson dying in the mechanical room out of her head. She's not sure how her dad would ever be able to return to the Training Center and not be in the same spot where Emerson had fallen. Cora knew that turning to alcohol wasn't the healthiest coping mechanism, but she found that experimenting with alcohol had been a distraction. She tries different drinks both by themselves and with different types of food. Coralee does her best not to get drunk, finding that she doesn't enjoy losing control.

But that's not why she's in District Three. Coralee is here for the New Year Technology Fair. It was a great way to get out of District Ten. She couldn't handle seeing her dad mope around the house. How he hid himself broadcasted the emotional turmoil her family was going through. Yet, how are they supposed to handle that? Emerson was the first time Emberstatt reaped after Cora's dad, and he made a valiant effort. Yet it's still heartbreaking.

While Coralee's dad doesn't drink, she still manages to find a way to bring him in, and she wants to prove that a mocktail can still make a great cocktail at this event. So, she makes a virgin old-fashioned, clean, simple, and very refreshing. She muddles a sugar cube, orange slice, and Angostura bitters and puts the ice into the cup. Then Coralee pours the barley tea that replaces the whisky over the ice and garnishes it with a maraschino cherry on top. She hopes that her mocktail will score well with the judges.

ELEGANT

Judging Rolls
Taste
WRV86HopzM1-50

Presentation
1-25

Name
1-25

1-50·1-25·1-25

[d10f ekta ram // [earthling]]

JAE BRIGHT

There were shelves lined with crystal and they called to her.

Jae sauntered, swaggered, wove her way to one of the cocktail stations. It had clearly been occupied by someone else and abandoned; to chase some tail? to piss? to boot 'n rally? No matter to her: they'd left all of the important tools behind.

Measuring shots, scooping ice, shaking and pouring - it was her job, her passion, her life. So even though some of the alcohol splashed carelessly over the side and even though her gaze kept sliding over the spectators and even though she wasn't really sure where she was: Jae kept up the performance.

Theo Horner caught her gaze. "Is that a fucking victor?" She giggled between shakes of the tumbler. And then to the gal beside her who looks vaguely familiar, "help me out, what's his name again?"

taste

i0ylpIZFfI1-50

presentation

1-25

name

1-25

1-50·1-25·1-25

[[ retro gm ] angel lí ✨]

    ↳ L E I A C H E V A L L I E R

Well, she did own a bar. Or at least according to the government she did. Leia had to show face, yes? And she could show face. Former Mayor and all - even if her re-election campaign was skewered to death by Jacinta Salazar. It would be the daughter of her boytoy to bring about her downfall, but jokes on that dead snake. She's a rebel now!

So yes, the bar. The showfront for a speak-easy. Nobody asks questions when you used to pay their bills and sign their cheques. It's been a good ten or so years now; although who's counting? Most years blur into one, no new Victors since Ripley and a dozen dead Le Rouxs in the graveyard. She's lost track of them like she's lost track of her age. But it's rude to ask a lady her weight, her age, and if she's hosting a rebel meet in the basement of her business establishment. Former Mayor Chevallier's doing fine.

But she doesn't serve the drinks, just picks the ingredients and the names on the cocktail list. Makes sure everything's always in stock - even the stuff that isn't on the shelf. Off-menu items and VIP booths with velvet and cedarwood; candles burning, cool jazz on a record player. It's giving new-age Panem, post-war with a rebel undertone. She picks a dark rum off of the shelf, casts aside the stainless steel shaker for a double-shot and grated cinnamon; ginger ale, a squeeze of lime - timeless flavours, Leia serves it up quick and licks stray droplets off of her index finger.

"I call this one the Dark Days."

[ coding by griffin ]

taste
hSj|JkM9BG1-50

presentation
1-25

name
1-25

1-50·1-25·1-25

[LAIN 🍽 1M | Mattio]

vermilion prince

You were never good with science. Or tech. Or medicine. Gladly, you thought, I'll stay away from the mess of pretending to act like I know what's going on. That's what kept you safe from the Rose Plague in the first place. You didn't need to go out and celebrate sIeNcE like your siblings and parents did. Stay at home, barricade your doors from them just in case.

But now? Now, you have the chance to truly celebrate. While the rest of your family toyed around with District Three's technological displays, pondering how much joining forces would prevent a pandemic from ever plaguing Panem again, you wandered to the drinks bar. You were old enough to hang out with this crowd. You tapped and touched every shaker, liquor bottle, and cocktail glass in sight, pretending that you weren't eyeing down every single person in the bar and imagining how fun a night drinking at the Technology Fair would be with any of them. Quite a few older women, Theo Horner from The Hunger Games a few years back…

Maybe you could impress them with your mixing skills.

(You've never mixed a drink in your life.)

But you go for it anyway, picking up bottles. Any measuring utensils are recommendations, especially once you overpour the rum. Reading numbers has never been your strong suit. "Rough guess, this could be anywhere from five to ninety-five percent alcohol, but…" you blush, hopeful that someone attractive will either find it delicious or take enough pity on you to share a drink anyway.

"Anyone want to try the I<3MILFS?"

Taste
_3VHynuWXV1-50

Presentation
1-25

Name
1-251-50·1-25·1-25

[Benson Sharpe D3M [Tom]]

O Z
H O P E

It's been too long since Dorothy had died; there's still days where he can't even handle the fucked up shit he has to deal with. Their mother and father are still awful. His own life has been set off the rocker; he's drank too much for too long. Spilled his heart out and watched as people ripped it apart. Stayed hidden away because he's lost without his little sister. As a brother, he failed. He failed her and himself. Set ablaze his own wicked self and built nothing else. It's a shame he's still stuck to the Hope name; trapped by his mother and father's bickering forever. It's how he's found himself in this fancy competition with nothing but the alcohol that he's been burying himself in.

He knows he shouldn't, but it's easier to feel numb than to feel everything. Surrounded by the fancy and rich, he can't quite keep his glare down. No one deserves the same smiles he used to give with ease to everyone. Setting to work, he reaches for the first liquor bottle and sets to work. Meticulous hands set about to making the ultimate drink to starve away the pain so many people understand and feel. Grief is never easy. An uneasy sailing across heavy seas with patches of nothing, but the blistering sun just as deadly as the heavy seas. Fingers tighten around a lemon as he squeezes hard, hoping to drain out all the things he's angry with.

Finishing his work, he looks down at the lemon based drink and frowns; sour most likely, but enough of a sweet syrup that it'll make someone wish for more. Pushing it forward, he crosses his arms, waiting for the judges to critique the drink. He's no bartender, but he didn't really want to be here in the first place. "Enjoy or whatever."

[Taste]
rk3X05Dc081-50

[Presentation]
1-25

[Name]
1-25

1-50·1-25·1-25

[frankel]

Cocktails were not Bruce’s forte, he is after all one of the Capitol’s winery giants, but wine can be an ingredient in a lot of cocktails. After his flop in Panem’s Got Talent Season Two, this was his chance to make amends with the media. By dragging his ass to District Three and shaking together some alcohol mixers.

Who knew so much technology was involved in the art of making cocktails?

Bruce tries so hard not to make a knock-off mimosa, but he makes a knock-off mimosa. None of the ingredients on the table give him any inspiration except the jug of fresh apple juice and a bottle of prosecco. He pops open the fizzy wine in a spectacular fashion that makes everyone watching go ooo! So he tries to capture the audience again with some nonsense.

”The secret ingredient to this creation is my sweat.” No it isn’t. It is just apple juice, prosecco and freshly cut lemon slices in a jug. ”Sweat baby!”

Taste
JGmTFPJVRa1-50

Presentation
1-25

Name
1-25

1-50·1-25·1-25

[Bella]

maviana matos

I signed up for the cocktail contest to prove a point that people from the Capitol knew nothing about taste. Those with real money, that amount of money that allows you to stop thinking about money, need other people to tell them what they want. Even their desire is pre-cooked, artificial, a collage of magazine pages and tv ads.

If there’s one thing I understand, it’s desire. That aching feeling of I want that arises from a vaccuum of need. It’s a sensation that only those who have truly lacked can feel. When you know that longing, the good things in life taste so much better. That’s why I have a cocktail in mind that doesn’t require a so-called “acquired taste.”

Careful not to damage my new red polish, I slip a fingernail under the metal tab of my light beer can and crack it open. Tilting the chilled pint glass, I pour it slowly down the side. Then I drop a long dill pickle spear into the pale gold liquid.

Easily the best cocktail there is.

”I call this one the Mavi Margarita,” I give a wink to the judges, making sure to blow them a big fat kiss while I’m at it.

taste
qgI6AKnFdT1-50

presentation
1-25

name
1-25


1-50·1-25·1-25

[ines izar d11a 🖤 cait]

adam morrisen !

I should be pretty good at this!! If there was any doubt in my father's mind that I was destined to take over the bar when he finally hit the hay, this competition would surely erase it all!

And hey, if by some insane stroke of bad luck I don't manage to win, I'll just scrape it under the rug and pretend I was never here. He'd never know!

I pick up the cocktail shaker and start pouring liquids into the vessel with reckless ambition. The best discoveries in life were accidental, right?? Vodka as the staple, stereotypical white guy base; some coconut liqueur to give a tropical edge reminiscent of home; elderflower syrup, tinted champagne, the colour of Annie's hair. It's good luck, baby!

taste!
TDuJd8Pxo|1-50

presentation!
1-25

name!
1-25

1-50·1-25·1-25

[frankel]

This event is officially closed!

[frankel]

And the results are…

First Place - 91 - Zoe - 6 points
Second place - 87 - Tom - 4 points
Third place - 74 - Kay - 3 points

Participation point:
54 - Cait
47 - Parsnip
43 - Jorg
38 - Mattio
36 - Arctic
34 - Frankel
16 - Bella