Here's how I imagine this whole thing happened: somebody, somewhere, reeaallly wished they'd been the ones to grab the rights to Hunger Games and make all that sweet, sweet green. It just bothered them beyond all measure. You could even say it haunted their dreams.
And then, as they sat upon the toilet having a think one day, they suddenly remembered another adolescent-level science fiction story with the word "games" in it that they'd had to repeatedly lie about having read in the 1980's.
"Oh," this presumed god among men blurted out, leaping prematurely off the porcelain in his glee. "Money and stuff!" And, faster than a lonely woman who just learned that James Deen is holding open casting, he rushed to the phone with no pants on.
From there it was a simple matter of propping Harrison Ford up to mumble-bumble his way through some lines, convincing Ben "apparently I'll do anything, these days" Kingsley to make drama faces with make-up on, finding a child actor who was neither talentless nor recognizable enough to substantially effect his per diem, and aping other movies' designs, special effects and soundtracks so that everything felt familiar and safe enough not to confuse audiences.
I assume that countless other small decisions were made ("Do we need to change the ending to support a sequel?" "It already has a sequel." "But does it indicate that in the book? People are sheep, and we need to start the sequel buzz RIGHT NOW."), and I assume that all of them were hilarious. But, sadly, the comedy that is the making of a film like this goes virtually uncaptured, and instead all we're left with is...
