Welcome to Gaia! ::

A spectacularly colorful booth sits squarely before you in the middle of the Bloodfest display. Such a vibrant booth might be considered pleasant and cheery to a relatively naïve troll, and indeed has the intoxicating appeal of a poisonous flower. Vaguely sugary scents and intensely poetic ballads of the best Alternian Slam Poets emanate from the booth, which has an undeniably circus aesthetic mixed with a bizarre slew of frightening masks and puppets hanging from the interior.

There are ample amounts of complimentary pamphlets for perusing, and a guest list that trolls may sign as they pass by. There are complimentary sermons on CD and cassette as well.



Tamiya’s regular verbosity was lost in the colors and whimsy of the booth, and surprisingly there is very little evidence of the juggalo’s normal aggressive proselytizing. Instead, some intelligent troll has convinced her that less is more, and games based upon creativity and aggression take the forefront of this particularly faithful information booth. That being said, Tamiya still remains occasionally in her station, shouting jeers of her faith to passersby, but this may have simply been due to the fact that her station is an enormous dunk tank filled with a familiar orange soda.

Other trolls are welcome to get dunked at the dunk tank (mysteriously labeled the “BPC”), and can win tickets from volunteering*!

Baptismal Plunge Canister
Down the Clown: Each day, roll a D20 to try and hit the dunk tank pressure trigger. If you get a 20 (or as of March 6th, a 1), success! You win the fabulous and cuddly prize below in addition to the satisfaction of dunking Tamiya.




Get Dunked: Volunteer for the dunk tank each day! Write up a 100-word minimum roleplay with your character in the hotseat, coming up with the best taunts to get volunteers to try and dunk you! (Swearing is fine as is the juggalo way, but generally keep your taunts in the PG-13 range for the sake of juggalo saturation levels)

Two “lucky” participants will be dunked at the end of each day, and will receive a ticket each! This is determined by generating a random number. The most creative taunt will also be rewarded with a ticket (and its recipient will be soundly dunked for doing so).

For those trolls squeamish about mid-night stickiness and ruining their clothes, fear not! Sinter has installed a shower into a private outhouse tend off of the side of the booth. It contains clean swimsuits you can borrow, and is frequently looked after by the redblood.

Volunteers will also get an extra shot at Tamiya each day!

*Volunteer information will be taken on a sheet of attendance for future mailing list advertisements and recruiting opportunities.

False Visage Ornamentation
Using the template below, design a mask! Since this is Bloodfest, the theme is “Portraying Your Inner Self”. But considering this is Tamiya judging, that could mean anything. Go wild! Please post your entries in this thread.


This is an event-long competition. At the end of the week, three winners will be decided and will receive a plush and a special opportunity: the chance to have their face painted based upon their design and “inner clown” by none other than Tamiya Aiguma herself. (The prize will, in fact, be a portrait of your troll’s “clownsona” by seekingCylem)

"That is the ******** spirit!" screamed Tamiya from her chair. "Our first contender!"

She swung and missed. Tamiya caught the ball aimed at her in a quick hand and tossed it back into the booth. "Your aim is s**t! Come back here when you have the righteous slickguts to hit me where it counts, blue tentchafe."

This troll seemed like the violent and chaotic sort. Being a juggalo was filled with exciting (and totally justified) uproars, suited for anyone looking for cheap thrills with few repercussions. This was a perfect station for her to seek new recruits.

She crossed one leg over her other and added, "I beseech you to check out our religious materials on your way out."

Trailing through the crowds, Regina drew up short at this colourful carnival-like booth. Not much of an religious troll, she always regarded the more faith-driven purplebloods around her with bemused interest. The night was warm, and the orange sparkling liquid that sloshed inside the large tank looked cool and refreshing, but before approaching it she stood at the front of the booth for a few moments, pawing through the pamphlets. She supposed she'd never really understand the fire behind trolls like pious-looking one shouting herself hoarse from on top of the dunking mechanism, but it was interesting, all the same.

It must, she considered as she shuffled one of the brochures into a pocket, be relaxing to know that something out there is watching over you and giving you a path through life. Regina had to cut her own for so long, that she was pretty damn certain there was nothing looking out for her but herself, her sword, and her lusus. And even then, Gl could be fickle.

In a thoughtful frame of mind, she approached the tank, took a ball, wound up, and gave it her best shot.

In her search for booths that didn't appear to be completely awful, Klymen stumbled upon this booth. While the land-dwelling purple bloods' religion had always confused her, she took a moment to look though the assortment of items around. Always room to learn, even if it was kind of... odd. But knowledge was power and she was always willing to be friends to the purplebloods on the land so it was worth giving a look over.

The dunk tank was what mainly got her attention and she decided to take a go. Picking up the ball, she threw it as hard as she could, hoping to hit on target.

Psy was taking a break from her 'advice' stand to take a walk around and gawk observe the booths that had sprung up in her hometown.

She stopped to look at all the symbolic goodness mirthfulness of the booth before her, grinning. Well, that was interesting! She couldn't help but approach.

Upon seeing that the pamphlets were free, she went and took a few for research purposes before considering the dunk tank before her. A slow grin spread over her face.

”Well.” she said, to the anxious buzz of her lus(ii), who recognized the troll involved, ”Why not.”

And with that, she took a throw.... and spotted.

"Lee!" she called, waving to the blueblood... Fancy seeing him here at a festival like this!

Ma'am... was not happy.

Trusci had to the second she saw her opportunity. What the heck was this purpleblood spewing anyway? Eyes looking over the assortment of pious objects, she squinted, hard. Well whatever. Any chance to dunk a highblood was good enough for her.

Close! But no cigar. Trusci looked a little disappointed—miffed, even—that she didn't succeed. Maybe her hand wasn't 100% yet; it was hard lobbing things when your aim was hindered.

Mentally, she swore to be back here tomorrow.

Swarmpupa? Psy sort of liked it.

”Well! I'll be trying again!” she said cheerily, thoroughly enjoying the whole tirade against Leeroi. Such rhyme! Such cadence! Such furor! She wanted to see more. She wanted to know more. She wanted to see into this deep dark mind and know it. And maybe play with it.

And then she saw the masks. ”Ohhh, Ma'am!” she said, pointing it out to her lusii, ”Look!” They were beautiful! Unmade, unmolded, ready to become symbols of someone's inner nature.

Of hers. Goodness, what would she do? Make one, obviously.

She decided to amend her statement. ”I'll try again just as soon as I make one of those!” she chirped, skipping off eagerly to the masks...

((Edit smile )

Sometimes, when she really, really tried, Psy could do things quickly. Normally she liked to take her time, but once she got into making her mask, she kept doing it until, finally, the work of art was complete.

And a little eerie.

"Goodness, Ma'am." she murmured, looking over the many eyed, blotchy and pale-skinned, leering thing, "What do you suppose this means?" Obviously, it meant a fascinating new angle for her research...

Into the depths of her own mind.

She stared into the mask's many eyes. Dare she delve?

No. she decided, putting it aside for now, Other peoples minds are more interesting anyway.

On some deep, subconcious level, however... she knew she was being a coward.

The opportunity to sit in a tank and be dunked into a saccharine carbonatd beverage? Oh. Joy - this was clearly what Alifax had always dreamed of doing. Yet Frossa seemed incredibly enthusiastic about this, and...he stood on the sidelines, watching players attempt to dunk the booth's resident purpleblood. They weren't even coming close! Clearly this was a fairly safe way to spend Hazzan's solo hour.

He stepped up to the booth and waved awkwardly at the purpleblood, even knowing he was dooming himself to sit around while Frossa gawked and repeatedly lined up for another chance at him. "I'll...um, volunteer," he told her, voice decidedly lacking in mirth.

He found himself soon looking down at a crisply bubbling vat of cold Faygo. With any luck it was clean. He looked out at the audience. What...what was he supposed to say? He glanced over at the virtually unreadable purpleblood for hints, but she was busying herself with honking calls for more passers-by to come indulge in uh. Whatever she was hawking. Maybe he should've actually glanced at her booth. It looked like...it looked like a lot of this booth was very pro-Mirth. He watched her diction for a while, though, and then turned to the next troll. "I ******** goddamn walking archery targets........with more superior aim than that, and still with impunity," he said hastily. That sounded like something he was supposed to say, right?

It wasn't like he was being compensated for this. The purpleblood could deal with it.