First off, I need to get rid of the elephant in the room – In Japan, this game is known as ‘Exciting Pro Wrestling 5’. Hear that? THAT’S THE SOUND OF YOU DROPPING THE BALL, THQ! Get your heads in the game! Honestly! You keep this up and you’ll end up going bankru–*ahem*. Without further ado, here is the second installment of
My Life As A Professional Wrestler
Hipster Harold lives! I’ve changed my almost 100% cupcake based diet to incorporate NOT MEAT! Because MORRISSEY! After my glorious exit last year, Raven and I rode a tandem bicycle around Europe. Long story short, I hate his fucking face now, I’m back in the WWE and I’m looking for a new best friend! I start by looking for The Undertaker in the boiler room. He takes offense at even the mildest of my comments, and, long story short, sends me to the hospital for – somehow – a full hystorectomy. The search will resume next week.
Now that the doctors have ravaged my insides, I decide it’s time for a new look. The wardrobe department is much the same as when I was here last, but somehow everything seems more complicated to the point where I can’t actually be bothered to engage in playing dressup. Top marks for effort, but I was into CAW since before it was cool.
Eddie Guerrero gets mad at me beacuse his child has a poster of me on their wall. I do what any person would do in this situation, and drag Eddie around by the scruff of his neck whilst I ride on a motorbike. I suddeenly realise this is everything my life had been missing. I can only imagine the mixed feelings that now come with his childs poster. I’ve decided the bike-dragging thing will beome my new gimmick – but I shall use a penny farthing.
Wait, have I had a match yet? Stephanie McMahon yells at me, costing me 1 SP. I endeavor to find out what an SP is.
It means Superstar Point. I remain unmoved. Why is this company employing me just to have people shout at me backstage? I’ll be telling my book group about this.
I fight Charlie Haas. He’s fairly low down on the roster, so I figure this should be OH BY THE SHINING LIGHT OF THE LORD WHAT IS HE DOING TO MY LEGS OH SWEET JESUS NOOOOOOOOO!
As it turns out, I need to work on my attributes, as my time away has left me something of a husk. This is a slow process, but I feel a slight amount of progress in every match. I am impressed. I find Bill Goldberg backstage, and decide to approach him in as hostile a manner as possible. I figure there is no possible way this can end badly. I figure wrong, and am now operating with roughly one third less of my blood. I need to start having matches in the ring instead of offering people moustache wax in the seedy backstage areas.
I witness a bra and panties match and am nothing short of thoroughly fucking ashamed.
I offer to take part in a bra and panties match. I feel a similar sense of shame from earlier.
I find the GM’s office and am delighted to find this means General Manager and not Genetically Modified. I ask Stephanie McMahon for a title shot and am offered one at the Cruiserweight Title. I accept, pretty much on the basis I have nothing else going on. There’s a whole hell of a lot of wrestlers on the roster this year, so I haven’t kept track of the champion – it’s Ultimo Dragon. I nearly hand the match to him because FUCK YEAH, ULTIMO DRAGON!, but opt instead to win the cruiserweight belt. It’s the most underground of all the belts, and so I shall hold it until the day I die.
I face A-Train. Not a literal train, it’s the chosen name of the man formerly known as Albert. I go to hit a wicked awesome powerbomb on him, and find that I can’t lift him – there’s a new weight mechanic this year. That’ll be fun – said nobody ever. I also find myself unable to reverse his strikes and grapples due to the new insistance on a seperate command for each. Of course, A-Train chooses the opposite attack to whatever I try to block. Not at all suspect. I may as well have started the match by giving him a knife and fork.
My new best friend is Eddie Guerrero. I feel like we bonded. My experience was overall much stronger than last year, and I was very impressed by the size of the arena and roster. However, the weight system and reversal system are essentially nothing more than a pain in the arse disguised as an attempt at depth. The new match types are good fun, except the bra and panties matches are absolutely tragic.