Showing posts with label Hardcore. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hardcore. Show all posts
Sunday, January 11, 2026
Tuesday, August 17, 2021
Mitch McLeod Puts the Death in Death Match
Clockwork Orange House of Fun. New Orleans Street Fight. No Holds Barred. Death Match. Hardcore Rules. In professional wrestling, there are thousands of ways to describe a match having no rules, where the only ways to win are by pinfall or submission. No rules rules, right? Well, as Mitch McLeod found out in a message board wrestling RPG, you still have to work within the limits of the law. You can’t shower your opponent with an AK-47. You can’t strap a dynamite vest to a random audience member to extort your opponent into quitting. You shouldn’t be able to do what Stone Cold Steve Austin did and raise a car that Triple H is in with a forklift before dropping it upside down from twenty feet high. Don’t worry about Trips, though, because he was back on TV the next night with only “contusions” on his medical record. There are lots of ways you can win a Death Match, none of which include murder. You can’t take the world championship to prison with you.
As a side note, Mitch McLeod shouldn’t be confused with Kentucky politician Mitch McConnell. One of them will inflict so much pain on you that you’ll develop an addiction to Oxycontin. The other is a hardcore wrestler. McLeod was OTT Wrestling’s version of Tommy Dreamer: the hardcore heart and soul of the company. Mitch would scramble your brains with a steel chair and deduct a hundred IQ points from your test. He would scissors kick a glass water pitcher over your head and deduct another hundred IQ points from your test. He would put a set of steel stairs over your head and leapfrog over the top rope onto them…there go another hundred IQ points. By the time Mitch McLeod was done fucking with your brain, you’d be more than qualified to vote for that Kentucky politician I mentioned earlier.
Unfortunately, none of those credentials would be enough to earn him a victory in his first OTT match ever against the seven-foot tall behemoth known as Yeti. No, I’m not talking about the toilet paper mummy from WCW in the 90’s. This version of Yeti was a legitimate powerhouse. He towered over everybody and made them look and cry like children. His breath reeked of human flesh and sour blood. His horns gave you the impression that the devil himself was standing across the ring from you. And those muscles…so many fucking muscles, but not the kind that belong on the cover of a cheesy romance novel. If Yeti wanted to hurt you, the National Guard would merely delay the inevitable…by about five seconds. He was the perfect first opponent for Mitch McLeod.
With Yeti already waiting to feast on the walking corpse that awaited him, Mitch McLeod’s music hit and the crowd went ape shit, no pun intended. Then again, how do you not go ape shit when “Wollt Ihr Das Bett En Flammen Sehen?” by Rammstein is blasting out of the speakers? German heavy metal for an American ass-kicker. You would think that Mitch would have all the (literal) tools necessary to beat Yeti like a war drum. But prior to joining OTT, he didn’t know that every match in this organization was contested under hardcore rules. Therefore, he did what every good baby-faced hero did in wrestling and attempted to cheat. What a great guy! Such a role model for the youngsters in the crowd!
The rules of the RPG were simple: each player would post a series of moves to perform in the match and whoever had the best writing and most impressive showing would be declared the victor by the GM/referee. At this point, the only thing that dwarfed Mitch’s opponent was my ego. I didn’t want to lose. I didn’t want to “do the job” as they say in the wrestling industry. Sixteen-year-old me didn’t make sacrifices for the good of the story. I just wanted to see Mitch be undefeated in everything he did, because I believed in my own hype. I was my own “mark”, to use another wrestling term. So when Yeti and Mitch locked up, it was game on, motherfucker.
While I don’t remember the exact choreography of the match, I do know that it started off with some actual wrestling maneuvers. Yeti hit a few body slams, suplexes, and clotheslines, each of them rattling Mitch’s bones like a Haitian earthquake that would surely be referenced in a Max Caster freestyle rap if given the opportunity. Max had already made fun of Simone Biles’s mental health, the Duke LaCrosse rape case, COVID testing, and Julia Hart’s vagina, why not a Haitian earthquake? You know what Max didn’t do, though? Put Yeti in a torture rack before slamming his spine across the knee. Mitch did that. He also spiked Yeti on top of his head with a brainbuster. He also hit a power bomb. And a spinebuster. And any other move that a man with Mitch’s size disadvantage had no right to use. Remember, I wanted to win and make Mitch look good, even at the expense of a much bigger star like Yeti.
Mitch would do anything to win at this point. Anything, even “accidentally” knocking out the referee so that using weapons (which was already legal) could be a thing in this match. He pulled a fire extinguisher from under the ring, sprayed Yeti in the eyes with it, threw it at his face, and gave him one final brainbuster onto the extinguisher. A normal man would have died from these wounds long before he had the chance to vote for unsavory Kentucky politicians. Not Yeti. He kicked out just as the referee was about to slap the mat for a three count. What kind of military grade weapons would it take to keep Yeti down? A Sherman tank? A nuclear bomb? Space lasers? Mitch could have used them all and Yeti would still no-sell everything and defeat him with a move called “The Heart Slam”, where he literally grabbed Mitch by his heart and slammed him to the mat before pinning him, one, two, three.
That should have been the end of it all. Mitch McLeod should have picked up his own carcass off the mat and gone back to the locker room to shower. It would actually take a lot more effort to do that considering Yeti gave Mitch another Heart Slam after the match was over, that cheeky heel. But instead of swallowing my pride and selling the injuries, I had Mitch throw the fire extinguisher at Yeti again and then lure him backstage with insults. Yeti, being an angry yeti, took the bait and got clobbered with another fire extinguisher for his troubles. Mitch then tied Yeti’s ankles to the back of his car and drove into town while dragging his big ass across the cement. A normal man would have died after thirty feet, the skin on his back shredded like Floydian beef. If that wasn’t bad enough, Mitch drove Yeti to a suspension bridge, tied cement blocks around him, and threw him into the ocean. Isn’t Mitch such a great role model? Dexter Morgan would be so proud of him! Wait a minute…
In the same way that Mitch no-sold everything Yeti did, Yeti in turn no-sold the attempted murder. I say attempted because Yeti was napping during the whole time he was being dragged. He woke up from his nap, jumped out of the water, and destroyed Mitch’s car so badly that it exploded in a climate change-like fireball. Yeti then advised Mitch to keep all the action in the ring, which would only be bad advice if the match was contested under Falls Count Anywhere rules, which is yet another form of no-disqualification rules. My never-ending ego would have taken this murder spree to the ends of the earth if the GM didn’t intervene when he did. He deleted all of the post-match violence and I was half-relieved that he did. Yeti then gave me a congratulatory “Good match” without a hint of irony, which meant we as players were still on good terms.
The one thing I would like to unpack from this story above all else is that good storytelling comes with sacrifices. If Mitch McLeod won all the time against all challengers in brutal apocalyptic fashion, yes, he would be elevated, but the story would be boring and he would be labeled a Gary-Stu. Flawless characters aren’t fun to read about because they’re not relatable to the reader. Even Hulk Hogan and John Cena, as big as their egos are, wouldn’t be able to relate to Mitch McLeod if he was an indestructible Gary-Stu. The role of the characters is to create a cohesive story through teamwork, and teamwork requires sacrifices. If the heroes have to lose every once and a while to make the stakes believable, so be it. If the villains have to look strong until the very last match when they’re finally defeated, such is life.
Mitch McLeod should have had flaws during his time in OTT Wrestling, but those flaws shouldn’t have been evil attempts to make himself an unstoppable god. In other words, he shouldn’t make himself so unlikable that nobody in their right mind would ever cheer for him. Baby-face heroes shouldn’t have “go-away heat”, or the kind of audience anger that isn’t born from good character work, but from a genuine desire to see them disappear forever, even if that means death itself. No-selling an opponent’s offence in wrestling is a big taboo in the industry, because it completely kills the illusion and undermines the team effort in building a narrative.
After Mitch took his second Heart Slam, he should have stayed down. Let Yeti have his heel heat, let Mitch train harder and grow as a wrestler instead of turning into a whiny serial killer. When Mitch starts to win matches again and develop his skills, then maybe he can have another crack at Yeti and get even closer to victory this time. Mitch would look impressive as a plucky underdog who has to constantly overcome the odds by the skin of his teeth. Beat him down until he has nothing left, so that when he finally earns his big comeback, he will have worked for something he can be proud of.
That’s what you have to remember not just with wrestling, but with every story you tell: the protagonist has to work for everything he has. Sometimes he has to work so hard that his body and mind fail him when he needs the energy the most. Sometimes he has to work hard enough to bring him to death’s door. But unlike in a capitalist society where unsavory Kentucky politicians hold the brass rings hostage, Mitch McLeod actually has a chance of having his hard work pay off. A theater teacher I had once advised us to, “Throw rocks at our protagonists and make them run up a tree.” In other words, make life difficult enough so that when those difficulties are conquered in a believable way, the protagonist will have something to be proud of. And so will you, fellow writers. So will you.
Saturday, January 30, 2016
WWE Royal Rumble: Dean Ambrose vs. Kevin Owens
MATCH: Dean Ambrose vs. Kevin Owens in a Last Man Standing match for Ambrose’s Intercontinental Championship
PROMOTION: World Wrestling Entertainment
EVENT: Royal Rumble
YEAR: 2016
RATING: TV-PG for violence
GRADE: Pass
Working the independent circuit in professional wrestling will put hair on your genitals. Working that many matches around the world will give you a myriad of styles that will ultimately become your move set. In Mexico, the luchadors fly around the ring like ninjas. In Japan, they hit each other hard enough to turn the human body into one big purple bruise. In Europe, they do the exact same thing, but with emphasis on technical brawling instead of honor-bound martial arts. And then when you finally make your trip to WWE NXT and ultimately their main roster, you’ll have the crowd eating out of the palm of your hand.
Such are the success stories of Dean Ambrose and Kevin Owens, two badass warriors who cut their teeth for over a decade on the independent circuit. Dean Ambrose has United States and Intercontinental Championship reigns under his belt while Kevin Owens has NXT gold and an Intercontinental belt reign as well. At the Tables, Ladders, and Chairs pay-per-view in 2015, it was Dean Ambrose who won his first IC Championship from Kevin Owens. Ever since then, Owens has been in a horrible mood, bullying and brutalizing anybody in his path, Ambrose included.
There was only one way a rivalry of this much hatred could be settled: Last Man Standing rules at the Royal Rumble. There are no pin-falls, submissions, count-outs, or disqualifications. All you have to do to win this match is beat the living shit out of your opponent so badly that he cannot answer the referee’s ten-count. Heel announcer John Layfield put it best when he said the only thing limiting the competitors in this match is their own imaginations.
When you’re called The Lunatic Fringe like Dean Ambrose is, your schizophrenic visions pretty much guarantee you a colorful and violent imagination. Kevin Owens is a brawler by nature, so he’s no less dangerous with a steel chair or a wooden table. Ambrose and Owens wasted no time in putting their violent visions to good use. They started the match by slugging it out and watching each other get dizzy.
Then the action spilled to the outside and things really got chaotic. Kevin Owens was launched over the English-speaking announce table and landed in Michael Cole’s lap, thus breaking the poor guy’s glasses. Once he got power back in his headsets, Cole was actually cheering on Ambrose when he was swinging a bamboo cane at Owens.
Once the toys were out, they didn’t go to waste, no, sir. Kevin Owens power bombed Dean Ambrose through steel chairs, spear tackled him through the time keeper’s barricade, and fisherman suplexed him through a wooden table. And Ambrose was still staggering to his feet ready for a fight! The man doesn’t quit!
Then it was Ambrose’s turn to put a serious beating on his opponent. A double arm DDT on a steel chair would do the trick. So would an elbow drop through the Spanish announce table. And then there were more whacks with the bamboo stick. The steel stairs had seen crashes and burns from both men.
After enduring all of this hardcore violence, you would expect both men to be bleeding, burned out, and ready for ambulance rides. Hell, they hit each other so hard that maybe a hearse was necessary. They stood up on wobbly legs and punched each other some more. Kevin Owens gave his opponent a pop-up power bomb and Ambrose, being the loony tune he was, got up and wrapped a steel chair around Owens’ head before boxing him in the face.
A normal man would have quit under these combative circumstances. He would have nightmares for months and would have chugged enough Xanax to kill an elephant. He would have had hospital bills that most one-percent billionaires couldn’t even afford. These two warriors aren’t normal men. They get up and smash each other some more with steel chairs, bamboo canes, fists, feet, and head butts. And then they smash each other some more. And smash each other some more. At this point, the referee could count to a thousand. He could wait for a whole decade to go by and they would still thrash each other endlessly.
But it was one mistake by Kevin Owens that cost him the match. He set up two wooden tables outside the ring and stacked one on top of the other. Owens was also perched on the top turnbuckle, presumably for a moonsault. And then Dean Ambrose jolted back to life once more and shoved Owens off the turnbuckle, sending the Canadian grizzly crashing through both tables. Owens shivered several times in his laying position, but made no attempt to pull himself to his feet. At the count of ten, Dean Ambrose was declared the winner and undisputed Intercontinental Champion.
With the crowd chanting “This is awesome!” and carrying their momentum into the Royal Rumble match itself, it’s clear there were no losers in this match. Dean Ambrose is the rightful IC Champion, but Kevin Owens is a winner too in my mind. Those two beat the living shit out of each other so badly that they limped their way into the Royal Rumble match. How they weren’t even in wheelchairs was a mystery to everybody there. How Kevin Owens managed to eliminate fellow independent wrestler AJ Styles is beyond me. How Dean Ambrose was one of the final two men in that match left standing is something that would stump Nostradamus.
The fact that two men could put on an apocalyptic brawl and still be able to compete later on in the night should be a testament to how tough pro-wrestlers are. Getting clotheslined or body slammed is bad enough. Being driven through tables, smashed with a kendo stick, and slammed through steel chairs takes more guts than the stomach has room for. It was amazing Dean Ambrose and Kevin Owens didn’t have their own guts spread all over the arena that night. Yes, it’s a TV-PG rated pay-per-view, but you wouldn’t know it from how banged up and battered these ring warriors were afterwards. I’d even say this is an early contender for Match of the Year in 2016. Congratulations, you two. You just made an entire arena full of people shit their pants with excitement. Now it REALLY looks like a battlefield out there!
PROMOTION: World Wrestling Entertainment
EVENT: Royal Rumble
YEAR: 2016
RATING: TV-PG for violence
GRADE: Pass
Working the independent circuit in professional wrestling will put hair on your genitals. Working that many matches around the world will give you a myriad of styles that will ultimately become your move set. In Mexico, the luchadors fly around the ring like ninjas. In Japan, they hit each other hard enough to turn the human body into one big purple bruise. In Europe, they do the exact same thing, but with emphasis on technical brawling instead of honor-bound martial arts. And then when you finally make your trip to WWE NXT and ultimately their main roster, you’ll have the crowd eating out of the palm of your hand.
Such are the success stories of Dean Ambrose and Kevin Owens, two badass warriors who cut their teeth for over a decade on the independent circuit. Dean Ambrose has United States and Intercontinental Championship reigns under his belt while Kevin Owens has NXT gold and an Intercontinental belt reign as well. At the Tables, Ladders, and Chairs pay-per-view in 2015, it was Dean Ambrose who won his first IC Championship from Kevin Owens. Ever since then, Owens has been in a horrible mood, bullying and brutalizing anybody in his path, Ambrose included.
There was only one way a rivalry of this much hatred could be settled: Last Man Standing rules at the Royal Rumble. There are no pin-falls, submissions, count-outs, or disqualifications. All you have to do to win this match is beat the living shit out of your opponent so badly that he cannot answer the referee’s ten-count. Heel announcer John Layfield put it best when he said the only thing limiting the competitors in this match is their own imaginations.
When you’re called The Lunatic Fringe like Dean Ambrose is, your schizophrenic visions pretty much guarantee you a colorful and violent imagination. Kevin Owens is a brawler by nature, so he’s no less dangerous with a steel chair or a wooden table. Ambrose and Owens wasted no time in putting their violent visions to good use. They started the match by slugging it out and watching each other get dizzy.
Then the action spilled to the outside and things really got chaotic. Kevin Owens was launched over the English-speaking announce table and landed in Michael Cole’s lap, thus breaking the poor guy’s glasses. Once he got power back in his headsets, Cole was actually cheering on Ambrose when he was swinging a bamboo cane at Owens.
Once the toys were out, they didn’t go to waste, no, sir. Kevin Owens power bombed Dean Ambrose through steel chairs, spear tackled him through the time keeper’s barricade, and fisherman suplexed him through a wooden table. And Ambrose was still staggering to his feet ready for a fight! The man doesn’t quit!
Then it was Ambrose’s turn to put a serious beating on his opponent. A double arm DDT on a steel chair would do the trick. So would an elbow drop through the Spanish announce table. And then there were more whacks with the bamboo stick. The steel stairs had seen crashes and burns from both men.
After enduring all of this hardcore violence, you would expect both men to be bleeding, burned out, and ready for ambulance rides. Hell, they hit each other so hard that maybe a hearse was necessary. They stood up on wobbly legs and punched each other some more. Kevin Owens gave his opponent a pop-up power bomb and Ambrose, being the loony tune he was, got up and wrapped a steel chair around Owens’ head before boxing him in the face.
A normal man would have quit under these combative circumstances. He would have nightmares for months and would have chugged enough Xanax to kill an elephant. He would have had hospital bills that most one-percent billionaires couldn’t even afford. These two warriors aren’t normal men. They get up and smash each other some more with steel chairs, bamboo canes, fists, feet, and head butts. And then they smash each other some more. And smash each other some more. At this point, the referee could count to a thousand. He could wait for a whole decade to go by and they would still thrash each other endlessly.
But it was one mistake by Kevin Owens that cost him the match. He set up two wooden tables outside the ring and stacked one on top of the other. Owens was also perched on the top turnbuckle, presumably for a moonsault. And then Dean Ambrose jolted back to life once more and shoved Owens off the turnbuckle, sending the Canadian grizzly crashing through both tables. Owens shivered several times in his laying position, but made no attempt to pull himself to his feet. At the count of ten, Dean Ambrose was declared the winner and undisputed Intercontinental Champion.
With the crowd chanting “This is awesome!” and carrying their momentum into the Royal Rumble match itself, it’s clear there were no losers in this match. Dean Ambrose is the rightful IC Champion, but Kevin Owens is a winner too in my mind. Those two beat the living shit out of each other so badly that they limped their way into the Royal Rumble match. How they weren’t even in wheelchairs was a mystery to everybody there. How Kevin Owens managed to eliminate fellow independent wrestler AJ Styles is beyond me. How Dean Ambrose was one of the final two men in that match left standing is something that would stump Nostradamus.
The fact that two men could put on an apocalyptic brawl and still be able to compete later on in the night should be a testament to how tough pro-wrestlers are. Getting clotheslined or body slammed is bad enough. Being driven through tables, smashed with a kendo stick, and slammed through steel chairs takes more guts than the stomach has room for. It was amazing Dean Ambrose and Kevin Owens didn’t have their own guts spread all over the arena that night. Yes, it’s a TV-PG rated pay-per-view, but you wouldn’t know it from how banged up and battered these ring warriors were afterwards. I’d even say this is an early contender for Match of the Year in 2016. Congratulations, you two. You just made an entire arena full of people shit their pants with excitement. Now it REALLY looks like a battlefield out there!
Monday, December 14, 2015
WWE TLC: The ECW Originals vs. The Wyatt Family
MATCH: The ECW Originals (Bubba-Ray Dudley, D-Von Dudley, Tommy Dreamer, and Rhyno) vs. The Wyatt Family (Bray Wyatt, Luke Harper, Erick Rowan, and Braun Strowman) in an eight-man tag team elimination tables match.
PROMOTION: World Wrestling Entertainment
EVENT: TLC: Tables, Ladders, and Chairs
YEAR: 2015
RATING: TV-PG for violence
GRADE: Mixed
All throughout the 1990’s, Extreme Championship Wrestling defined the spirit of hardcore wrestling. Power bombs through flaming wooden tables, Irish whips into skin-shredding razor wire, repeated kendo stick shots until the opponent bled buckets, high flying dives off of the tallest structures, broken bones, insane fan participation, and saying “Thank you, sir, may I have another?!” the next day. If you wrestled for ECW, you couldn’t just be a moderately good athlete. You had to be tough as nails, nasty as hell, and maybe even godlike at times. The pain you will suffer, the scars you will obtain, the blood you will spill will all be in the name of legitimizing professional wrestling. ECW has since closed its doors permanently in 2001, but Bubba-Ray Dudley, D-Von Dudley, Tommy Dreamer, and Rhyno are invoking the spirit for this confrontation at TLC.
Good luck, boys, because The Wyatt Family has dominated the WWE on a consistent basis for three whole years, temporary separation aside. All four of these stable members are giants among insects. In addition to towering over all of their opponents, their scraggly facial hair, ugly faces, sheep masks, and cultist mind games give them a psychological edge in their matches. Just imagine if Bray Wyatt, Luke Harper, Erick Rowan, and Braun Strowman came to your door to deliver a pizza. Could you in all good consciousness eat that pizza knowing four zombie rednecks with serial killer mindsets are the ones at your doorstep? You’d better give them a million dollar tip lest you be squashed and strangled to death by these behemoths of men.
It’s only right that four hardcore extremists and four monstrous hillbillies get together for a tables match, where the rules are simple: if a wrestler gets slammed through a wooden table, he must go back to the locker room and wait for the match to be over. The losing team is the one who has all of their members slammed through tables. There are no pin falls, no submissions, no count-outs, and no disqualifications. If you can dream it up in your sick and twisted imagination, you can do whatever the hell you want to your opponents in this kind of match. Hell, you might even get a way with bending the limits of a TV-PG environment.
As soon as both four-man teams made their entrances, they stared each other down and waited for that bell to ring. When it rang, nobody was safe. Punches, kicks, slams, head butts, elbows, these basic moves turned a wrestling match into a head-stomping, mosh-pitting riot. These wrestlers already do a good enough job with the wrestling aspect of their matches. But when the toys come out, you’d better watch the hell out. Kendo stick shots form the biggest welts on the Wyatt Family’s skin. Metal garbage cans flatten and twist as they bounce off the zombie rednecks’ skulls. Braun Strowman was the only one who could contain this extreme riot. He went around clubbing and clothes lining the ECW originals until his Wyatt Family had the edge once again.
It was only a few minutes into the match and it already looked like it had TV-MA potential. But it didn’t take long for this match to earn is mixed grade. There were a few spots in this match that looked a little botchy to me. Bubba-Ray Dudley was supposed to use a metal garbage can to block a haymaker from Braun Strowman. Bubba put up his guard too soon…and Braun punched the defensive shield anyways. Not long afterwards, you had Erick Rowan attempting a running kick on one of the ECW guys only to put his foot through a table (which for some odd reason didn’t count as an elimination). Erick Rowan had D-Von Dudley spread eagle across another table and was perched on the top turnbuckle only to be shoved off by Rhyno. Rowan broke the table, but only the edge of it and D-Von had supposedly rolled off in time, though it still looked sketchy to me who was at fault for this botch.
The WWE fans are rarely happy with the choreography of a non-Daniel Bryan match (I swear, that guy has spoiled the audience rotten). This time, I can empathize with their unhappiness. Just this time. But hey, the action picked up again when both Dudley brothers slammed Erick Rowan through a table. Once he was gone, there were more kendo stick shots, more beatings, more chair shots, and then the ECW guys were being slammed through tables until Bubba-Ray Dudley was the last one remaining on his team. Before that scenario took place, Bubba did a spot where he was supposed to do a cross body block on Braun Strowman. Those two took a while to get positioned and when it finally happened, Braun stumbled backwards and fell as if it wasn’t meant to happen.
Never fear, original ECW fans. Just when the crowd was about to die, Bubba-Ray Dudley set up another table in the ring, but also brought out some lighter fluid and a cigarette lighter. He squirted a very liberal amount of fluid on that wooden table and stunk up the entire arena with chemicals. All that was left was to light it on fire and power bomb Bray Wyatt’s fat ass through the hardcore toy. But that never happened. It probably couldn’t under a TV-PG setting. Luke Harper super kicked Bubba-Ray under the chin while Braun Strowman heaved the ECW warrior in the air before slamming him through the table, thus ensuring the match-ending elimination and a victory for the Wyatt Family.
All in all, it was an enjoyable match to watch, especially since I have a lot of nostalgic feelings for the old ECW promotion. But let’s face it: the match at TLC earned its mixed rating. You could blame the hard-to-impress fans, you could blame the botchy spots, you could blame the false advertising when it came to the would-be flaming table, but there’s one other thing that stuck out in my mind. Elimination matches are tricky bitches as far as putting the winning team over is concerned. The Wyatt Family lost only one member of their team during that match: Erick Rowan. Losing three members would make the Wyatts survivors. Losing two members would also make them survivors. Losing zero members would make them dominant and scary like they’ve always been. But losing Erick Rowan exclusively made me believe that he’s being singled out as a weak link of that stable. I know it’s not true since he’s every bit as powerful and intimidating as the rest of his clan. All I’m saying is that one elimination looks suspiciously like a weak link plot. I’m interested to see where the WWE creative team goes with this. I hope they don’t go anywhere with it and just have Erick Rowan be treated as an equal.
PROMOTION: World Wrestling Entertainment
EVENT: TLC: Tables, Ladders, and Chairs
YEAR: 2015
RATING: TV-PG for violence
GRADE: Mixed
All throughout the 1990’s, Extreme Championship Wrestling defined the spirit of hardcore wrestling. Power bombs through flaming wooden tables, Irish whips into skin-shredding razor wire, repeated kendo stick shots until the opponent bled buckets, high flying dives off of the tallest structures, broken bones, insane fan participation, and saying “Thank you, sir, may I have another?!” the next day. If you wrestled for ECW, you couldn’t just be a moderately good athlete. You had to be tough as nails, nasty as hell, and maybe even godlike at times. The pain you will suffer, the scars you will obtain, the blood you will spill will all be in the name of legitimizing professional wrestling. ECW has since closed its doors permanently in 2001, but Bubba-Ray Dudley, D-Von Dudley, Tommy Dreamer, and Rhyno are invoking the spirit for this confrontation at TLC.
Good luck, boys, because The Wyatt Family has dominated the WWE on a consistent basis for three whole years, temporary separation aside. All four of these stable members are giants among insects. In addition to towering over all of their opponents, their scraggly facial hair, ugly faces, sheep masks, and cultist mind games give them a psychological edge in their matches. Just imagine if Bray Wyatt, Luke Harper, Erick Rowan, and Braun Strowman came to your door to deliver a pizza. Could you in all good consciousness eat that pizza knowing four zombie rednecks with serial killer mindsets are the ones at your doorstep? You’d better give them a million dollar tip lest you be squashed and strangled to death by these behemoths of men.
It’s only right that four hardcore extremists and four monstrous hillbillies get together for a tables match, where the rules are simple: if a wrestler gets slammed through a wooden table, he must go back to the locker room and wait for the match to be over. The losing team is the one who has all of their members slammed through tables. There are no pin falls, no submissions, no count-outs, and no disqualifications. If you can dream it up in your sick and twisted imagination, you can do whatever the hell you want to your opponents in this kind of match. Hell, you might even get a way with bending the limits of a TV-PG environment.
As soon as both four-man teams made their entrances, they stared each other down and waited for that bell to ring. When it rang, nobody was safe. Punches, kicks, slams, head butts, elbows, these basic moves turned a wrestling match into a head-stomping, mosh-pitting riot. These wrestlers already do a good enough job with the wrestling aspect of their matches. But when the toys come out, you’d better watch the hell out. Kendo stick shots form the biggest welts on the Wyatt Family’s skin. Metal garbage cans flatten and twist as they bounce off the zombie rednecks’ skulls. Braun Strowman was the only one who could contain this extreme riot. He went around clubbing and clothes lining the ECW originals until his Wyatt Family had the edge once again.
It was only a few minutes into the match and it already looked like it had TV-MA potential. But it didn’t take long for this match to earn is mixed grade. There were a few spots in this match that looked a little botchy to me. Bubba-Ray Dudley was supposed to use a metal garbage can to block a haymaker from Braun Strowman. Bubba put up his guard too soon…and Braun punched the defensive shield anyways. Not long afterwards, you had Erick Rowan attempting a running kick on one of the ECW guys only to put his foot through a table (which for some odd reason didn’t count as an elimination). Erick Rowan had D-Von Dudley spread eagle across another table and was perched on the top turnbuckle only to be shoved off by Rhyno. Rowan broke the table, but only the edge of it and D-Von had supposedly rolled off in time, though it still looked sketchy to me who was at fault for this botch.
The WWE fans are rarely happy with the choreography of a non-Daniel Bryan match (I swear, that guy has spoiled the audience rotten). This time, I can empathize with their unhappiness. Just this time. But hey, the action picked up again when both Dudley brothers slammed Erick Rowan through a table. Once he was gone, there were more kendo stick shots, more beatings, more chair shots, and then the ECW guys were being slammed through tables until Bubba-Ray Dudley was the last one remaining on his team. Before that scenario took place, Bubba did a spot where he was supposed to do a cross body block on Braun Strowman. Those two took a while to get positioned and when it finally happened, Braun stumbled backwards and fell as if it wasn’t meant to happen.
Never fear, original ECW fans. Just when the crowd was about to die, Bubba-Ray Dudley set up another table in the ring, but also brought out some lighter fluid and a cigarette lighter. He squirted a very liberal amount of fluid on that wooden table and stunk up the entire arena with chemicals. All that was left was to light it on fire and power bomb Bray Wyatt’s fat ass through the hardcore toy. But that never happened. It probably couldn’t under a TV-PG setting. Luke Harper super kicked Bubba-Ray under the chin while Braun Strowman heaved the ECW warrior in the air before slamming him through the table, thus ensuring the match-ending elimination and a victory for the Wyatt Family.
All in all, it was an enjoyable match to watch, especially since I have a lot of nostalgic feelings for the old ECW promotion. But let’s face it: the match at TLC earned its mixed rating. You could blame the hard-to-impress fans, you could blame the botchy spots, you could blame the false advertising when it came to the would-be flaming table, but there’s one other thing that stuck out in my mind. Elimination matches are tricky bitches as far as putting the winning team over is concerned. The Wyatt Family lost only one member of their team during that match: Erick Rowan. Losing three members would make the Wyatts survivors. Losing two members would also make them survivors. Losing zero members would make them dominant and scary like they’ve always been. But losing Erick Rowan exclusively made me believe that he’s being singled out as a weak link of that stable. I know it’s not true since he’s every bit as powerful and intimidating as the rest of his clan. All I’m saying is that one elimination looks suspiciously like a weak link plot. I’m interested to see where the WWE creative team goes with this. I hope they don’t go anywhere with it and just have Erick Rowan be treated as an equal.
Wednesday, July 15, 2015
Misty Blades
NAME: Misty Blades
AGE: 31
OCCUPATION: Fox Ninja
CANON: Final Fantasy Hardcore 2
Misty Blades came from the same batch of animal warrior villains as Jacob Slash. In this case, she was formerly known as Atir Mystblade and she was scheduled to be a kitsune ninja. I have no idea where I got the idea to create a bunch of animal warriors, but the influence for Misty Blades could easily be traced to Magic: the Gathering. This was around 2005 and 2006, so this would have been the time where Hasbro was releasing Japanese-themed cards such as samurais, ninjas, dragons, demons, and of course, anthropomorphic animals. The Kitsune Blademaster, a fox samurai with first strike and bushido 1, was one of my favorite cards to use in white decks and could have very well been the inspiration for Misty Blades even though Misty is a ninja and not a samurai.
Seeing as how Final Fantasy Hardcore 2 went defunct before I had the chance to use my animal warrior bosses, Misty didn’t get much of a chance to shine. She has no background information, no storyline involvement, and no real reason for being created in the first place. All I wanted was a fox ninja who could slash shit up and get the fuck out of dodge before anybody caught her. Foxes are cool. Ninjas are cool. Fox ninjas are really goddamn cool! She had a lot of buzz generated, but I didn’t know what to do with her. She was comparable to CM Punk, who was signed to WWE right around the time Misty Blades was conceived (2005-2006). Punk earned a lot of fame around the world, but was creatively stifled in WWE because nobody knew what to do with him.
I’m not going to let Misty Blades leave my creative world the same way CM Punk left WWE after being battered, bruised, and sore for many years. Don’t get me wrong; Misty is going to take a beating one way or another, but not for the wrong reasons. Misty is going to count for something. In the case of her next story (which would in reality be her first one), she will play the role of a villain. Yes, foxes are cute and don’t normally act like villains, but then again, some ninjas do act like villains. And if I completely have to strip Misty of her cute factor, I could always give her razor-sharp teeth, drooling rabies, and neon green eyes. Seriously, what’s it going to take for my audience to see how dangerous and how bitchy this fox woman is? Her last name is Blades, for Christ’s sake.
So what kind of villainy role could we give to Misty and flesh out her resume a little bit? She could be a heartless mercenary. She could assassinate someone for political reasons. Hell, let’s combine those two things and make her into one badass bitch! It worked perfectly for Mileena from Mortal Kombat 2. Yes, Mileena looks nice on the outside, but when she takes off her mask and reveals her sword-like teeth and witch-like nose, you’d better run for the fucking hills, my friend! Maybe that’s what it takes for Misty Blades to be a convincing villain. She could easily be a fox version of Mileena! Oh, my inner geek is going nuts right now! If I’m not careful, I could have a nerd-gasm all over my keyboard! Actually, having any kind of orgasm for Mileena is virtually impossible (unless you leave her mask on, of course).
What about the weapons Misty will carry? We know she’s going to use a sword since most ninjas do. But what if the edges on that sword were jagged and bloody? What if she was using nunchucks made of thigh bones? Or a ribcage shield? Or a flail that’s really just someone’s spinal column and skull? How about a shuriken made entirely out of monster teeth? If your inner geek is ready for a mental institution just like mine is, get ready for this: a spear with deer antlers at the end instead of a steel tip! Or a whip that’s really a live snake! With all of these possibilities for her character and her weapon choices, it makes me wonder why she was unemployed in the first place! Hehe!
The last thing I’ll harangue you guys with his Misty’s dialogue. When I write dialogue for my characters, I try to make it as realistic as possible. If I wanted to add some witty dialogue for a character with a sharp tongue, I could very well do that. But would that work for a monstrous fox like Misty? I’m leaning towards grunts and gurgles, myself. Or she can have no dialogue at all. Or she could swear up a storm. It would have to be something crude enough to make her a monster and mysterious enough to make her a ninja. Maybe a steel tongue isn’t the best option for her. Oh well, there are other characters I can give snappy dialogue to. No sweat!
When I was looking for post-college employment from 2010 to 2013, the only experience I had was educational. Since I’ve never had paid employment before, I had to enhance my resume to make my education look like a blessing straight from the heavens. I wasn’t successful in finding a job. However, I did a little resume enhancement with Misty Blades despite her not being experienced. The difference is, Misty is going to make her mark sooner rather than later. And that mark is probably going to be a trail of blood, bones, and vomit leading all the way to the tip of her jagged sword. Yikes!
***WRESTLING QUOTE OF THE DAY***
“We were born and bred to rip and shred!”
-Konnor, one half of The Ascension-
AGE: 31
OCCUPATION: Fox Ninja
CANON: Final Fantasy Hardcore 2
Misty Blades came from the same batch of animal warrior villains as Jacob Slash. In this case, she was formerly known as Atir Mystblade and she was scheduled to be a kitsune ninja. I have no idea where I got the idea to create a bunch of animal warriors, but the influence for Misty Blades could easily be traced to Magic: the Gathering. This was around 2005 and 2006, so this would have been the time where Hasbro was releasing Japanese-themed cards such as samurais, ninjas, dragons, demons, and of course, anthropomorphic animals. The Kitsune Blademaster, a fox samurai with first strike and bushido 1, was one of my favorite cards to use in white decks and could have very well been the inspiration for Misty Blades even though Misty is a ninja and not a samurai.
Seeing as how Final Fantasy Hardcore 2 went defunct before I had the chance to use my animal warrior bosses, Misty didn’t get much of a chance to shine. She has no background information, no storyline involvement, and no real reason for being created in the first place. All I wanted was a fox ninja who could slash shit up and get the fuck out of dodge before anybody caught her. Foxes are cool. Ninjas are cool. Fox ninjas are really goddamn cool! She had a lot of buzz generated, but I didn’t know what to do with her. She was comparable to CM Punk, who was signed to WWE right around the time Misty Blades was conceived (2005-2006). Punk earned a lot of fame around the world, but was creatively stifled in WWE because nobody knew what to do with him.
I’m not going to let Misty Blades leave my creative world the same way CM Punk left WWE after being battered, bruised, and sore for many years. Don’t get me wrong; Misty is going to take a beating one way or another, but not for the wrong reasons. Misty is going to count for something. In the case of her next story (which would in reality be her first one), she will play the role of a villain. Yes, foxes are cute and don’t normally act like villains, but then again, some ninjas do act like villains. And if I completely have to strip Misty of her cute factor, I could always give her razor-sharp teeth, drooling rabies, and neon green eyes. Seriously, what’s it going to take for my audience to see how dangerous and how bitchy this fox woman is? Her last name is Blades, for Christ’s sake.
So what kind of villainy role could we give to Misty and flesh out her resume a little bit? She could be a heartless mercenary. She could assassinate someone for political reasons. Hell, let’s combine those two things and make her into one badass bitch! It worked perfectly for Mileena from Mortal Kombat 2. Yes, Mileena looks nice on the outside, but when she takes off her mask and reveals her sword-like teeth and witch-like nose, you’d better run for the fucking hills, my friend! Maybe that’s what it takes for Misty Blades to be a convincing villain. She could easily be a fox version of Mileena! Oh, my inner geek is going nuts right now! If I’m not careful, I could have a nerd-gasm all over my keyboard! Actually, having any kind of orgasm for Mileena is virtually impossible (unless you leave her mask on, of course).
What about the weapons Misty will carry? We know she’s going to use a sword since most ninjas do. But what if the edges on that sword were jagged and bloody? What if she was using nunchucks made of thigh bones? Or a ribcage shield? Or a flail that’s really just someone’s spinal column and skull? How about a shuriken made entirely out of monster teeth? If your inner geek is ready for a mental institution just like mine is, get ready for this: a spear with deer antlers at the end instead of a steel tip! Or a whip that’s really a live snake! With all of these possibilities for her character and her weapon choices, it makes me wonder why she was unemployed in the first place! Hehe!
The last thing I’ll harangue you guys with his Misty’s dialogue. When I write dialogue for my characters, I try to make it as realistic as possible. If I wanted to add some witty dialogue for a character with a sharp tongue, I could very well do that. But would that work for a monstrous fox like Misty? I’m leaning towards grunts and gurgles, myself. Or she can have no dialogue at all. Or she could swear up a storm. It would have to be something crude enough to make her a monster and mysterious enough to make her a ninja. Maybe a steel tongue isn’t the best option for her. Oh well, there are other characters I can give snappy dialogue to. No sweat!
When I was looking for post-college employment from 2010 to 2013, the only experience I had was educational. Since I’ve never had paid employment before, I had to enhance my resume to make my education look like a blessing straight from the heavens. I wasn’t successful in finding a job. However, I did a little resume enhancement with Misty Blades despite her not being experienced. The difference is, Misty is going to make her mark sooner rather than later. And that mark is probably going to be a trail of blood, bones, and vomit leading all the way to the tip of her jagged sword. Yikes!
***WRESTLING QUOTE OF THE DAY***
“We were born and bred to rip and shred!”
-Konnor, one half of The Ascension-
Sunday, June 14, 2015
Jacob Slash
NAME: Jacob Slash
AGE: 35
OCCUPATION: Rat Samurai Barbarian
CANON: Final Fantasy Hardcore 2
Yes, you read his occupation right: he is a humanoid rat who happens to be a samurai and a barbarian at the same time. He wears barbarian boots and barbarian armor underneath his silk samurai robe. He’s not just good with a katana; he’s a goddamn murderer. He’s so good with a katana that he carries two of them, just like a barbarian would if we were talking about Diablo II. Jacob Slash has all the right tools it takes to be a villainous warrior. He’s dual classed, he’s a hideous rodent who smells like sewage and cheese, and his last name is Slash. The only other person I know who’s named Slash is the former guitarist for Guns N’ Roses and as far as I know, he doesn’t rip the shit out of people with two big ass katana blades.
Jacob Slash was the first in what would turn out to be a whole series of anthropomorphic animal warriors who would have played the role of major bosses in Final Fantasy Hardcore 2. Unfortunately, that videogame idea never got off the ground, let alone got completed. So now what I’m left with is a whole army of animal warriors who are eager to ground and pound their way to victory. They’ll find a home somewhere, I swear!
The formula for making these intimidating bosses was simple. For the first name, I took a normal everyday name and reversed the spelling of it. For the last name, I combined two badass buzzwords that might have been used in traditional fantasy genre works. The class and species of each warrior had to be conducive to each other in some way, a good example being a hippopotamus barbarian or a wasp wizard, though mixing and matching classes and races was a random endeavour in and of itself. It’s the reason why we have half-orc paladins and pixie barbarians.
In the case of Jacob Slash, his name used to be Ekaj Hoarslash. But in today’s world, that wouldn’t make a whole lot of sense. Ekaj sounds nice, but I want something with a little more substance, so I choose Jacob. And who in the hell would want to be known for slashing whores? That’s not a nice thing to do to our sex workers. So now this rat barbarian samurai (a mixture that still tickles me to this day) will be known as Jacob Slash, which is simple, yet no less intimidating than before.
What kind of role would a hideous creature like Jacob Slash play in a novel or short story? It’s funny I should ask myself that, because over the past few weeks, I’ve been getting back into the groove of writing a novel called Watch You Burn, which is about a schizophrenic college student named Mario Bryan who is recruited by an anime superhero named Gryace to help save the world from a disgustingly strong ogre named Sage. About that novel, I’m almost finished with the first draft. After I run the first draft through Marie Krepps’ wringer, then I could seriously contemplate writing a sequel with Jacob Slash as the lead villain.
Jacob Slash and Sage Thunderbreath have a lot in common. They both have barbaric mentalities. They’re both vomit-worthy in terms of their physical appearances. They’re unequaled when it comes to hand-to-hand and magical combat. The only difference between them, however, would have to be that Jacob is motivated by a deeper agenda than Sage. In the final stages of Watch You Burn, it’s revealed that Sage Thunderbreath does the things he does because he’s jealous of the universe’s beautiful people. Jacob want something a little less shallow: power. Fear. Recognition. Respect. Fame. Fortune. Jacob believes he can get it all through ultra-violence. He also has a serious god complex going on, which makes him even more dangerous and entitled.
Will Mario Bryan be able to withstand the punishment Sage Thunderbreath brings to every battle? That’s been debatable since the start of the story. What’s even less debatable than that is asking the same question, but with Jacob Slash as the object of the sentence. The answer is no fucking way. But that’s assuming I use Jacob in the sequel of Watch You Burn or if there even is a sequel to begin with. Surely, there are other ways in which Jacob can splatter blood across the land. He is, after all, a rat barbarian samurai, which I may not be able to say with a straight face, but is no less dangerous than a single class warrior.
***TELEVISION DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***
DOCTOR: I am done playing these games with you! I am finished!
GANGSTER: You want out? Hell, we all do.
-Complications-
AGE: 35
OCCUPATION: Rat Samurai Barbarian
CANON: Final Fantasy Hardcore 2
Yes, you read his occupation right: he is a humanoid rat who happens to be a samurai and a barbarian at the same time. He wears barbarian boots and barbarian armor underneath his silk samurai robe. He’s not just good with a katana; he’s a goddamn murderer. He’s so good with a katana that he carries two of them, just like a barbarian would if we were talking about Diablo II. Jacob Slash has all the right tools it takes to be a villainous warrior. He’s dual classed, he’s a hideous rodent who smells like sewage and cheese, and his last name is Slash. The only other person I know who’s named Slash is the former guitarist for Guns N’ Roses and as far as I know, he doesn’t rip the shit out of people with two big ass katana blades.
Jacob Slash was the first in what would turn out to be a whole series of anthropomorphic animal warriors who would have played the role of major bosses in Final Fantasy Hardcore 2. Unfortunately, that videogame idea never got off the ground, let alone got completed. So now what I’m left with is a whole army of animal warriors who are eager to ground and pound their way to victory. They’ll find a home somewhere, I swear!
The formula for making these intimidating bosses was simple. For the first name, I took a normal everyday name and reversed the spelling of it. For the last name, I combined two badass buzzwords that might have been used in traditional fantasy genre works. The class and species of each warrior had to be conducive to each other in some way, a good example being a hippopotamus barbarian or a wasp wizard, though mixing and matching classes and races was a random endeavour in and of itself. It’s the reason why we have half-orc paladins and pixie barbarians.
In the case of Jacob Slash, his name used to be Ekaj Hoarslash. But in today’s world, that wouldn’t make a whole lot of sense. Ekaj sounds nice, but I want something with a little more substance, so I choose Jacob. And who in the hell would want to be known for slashing whores? That’s not a nice thing to do to our sex workers. So now this rat barbarian samurai (a mixture that still tickles me to this day) will be known as Jacob Slash, which is simple, yet no less intimidating than before.
What kind of role would a hideous creature like Jacob Slash play in a novel or short story? It’s funny I should ask myself that, because over the past few weeks, I’ve been getting back into the groove of writing a novel called Watch You Burn, which is about a schizophrenic college student named Mario Bryan who is recruited by an anime superhero named Gryace to help save the world from a disgustingly strong ogre named Sage. About that novel, I’m almost finished with the first draft. After I run the first draft through Marie Krepps’ wringer, then I could seriously contemplate writing a sequel with Jacob Slash as the lead villain.
Jacob Slash and Sage Thunderbreath have a lot in common. They both have barbaric mentalities. They’re both vomit-worthy in terms of their physical appearances. They’re unequaled when it comes to hand-to-hand and magical combat. The only difference between them, however, would have to be that Jacob is motivated by a deeper agenda than Sage. In the final stages of Watch You Burn, it’s revealed that Sage Thunderbreath does the things he does because he’s jealous of the universe’s beautiful people. Jacob want something a little less shallow: power. Fear. Recognition. Respect. Fame. Fortune. Jacob believes he can get it all through ultra-violence. He also has a serious god complex going on, which makes him even more dangerous and entitled.
Will Mario Bryan be able to withstand the punishment Sage Thunderbreath brings to every battle? That’s been debatable since the start of the story. What’s even less debatable than that is asking the same question, but with Jacob Slash as the object of the sentence. The answer is no fucking way. But that’s assuming I use Jacob in the sequel of Watch You Burn or if there even is a sequel to begin with. Surely, there are other ways in which Jacob can splatter blood across the land. He is, after all, a rat barbarian samurai, which I may not be able to say with a straight face, but is no less dangerous than a single class warrior.
***TELEVISION DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***
DOCTOR: I am done playing these games with you! I am finished!
GANGSTER: You want out? Hell, we all do.
-Complications-
Saturday, January 3, 2015
Gail Reinhold
NAME: Gail Reinhold
AGE: 30
OCCUPATION: Paladin
CANONS: Final Fantasy Hardcore, Tribe, Hardcore Hell, and Fireball Nightmare
Your eyes don’t deceive you and quite frankly I don’t know why they would unless you were having an acid flashback. Gail Reinhold has been a part of four different failed stories, thus making her the most experienced heroine I’ve ever had (and no, that’s not an invitation for the W-word, so piss off). No matter what canon she was a part of, she was always the eventual arm candy of Deus Shadowheart, the most popular and experienced character I have.
Deus Shadowheart is a smelly barbarian who can rip someone in half with his thumb and forefinger. Gail Reinhold is a beautiful paladin who can be both tough-minded and tenderhearted at the same time. How exactly do these two people find each other attractive? How does a beautiful flower like Gail give consent to a barbaric beast like Deus and then the two live happily ever after? In all the times they’ve been together, it was always because Deus was saving Gail from an abduction, one that happened over and over again, might I add. Doesn’t exactly make Gail a strong feminine role model despite supposedly being a badass magic-wielding paladin.
With the random selection I put my characters through, it’s not likely Deus and Gail will ever be a couple again. They might not even be part of the same canon. Were they ever really good for each other if Gail was only a damsel in distress? How about she actually put her magic and combative skills to good use and save a man’s life for a change. Or save another woman’s life. Or save her own life. Make her tough and independent at the same time. She can still be the tender and emotional sweetie pie I always made her out to be, and that might actually work in making her a flawed character despite being nearly invincible in combat.
In addition to being multi-dimensional as a character, she can also be that way when it comes to the time period she occupies. Paladins are Dungeons & Dragons characters by nature, which in plain English means they’re medieval warriors in medieval times. But what if this was the future? What if she was an intergalactic princess with an energy sword (I can’t say light saber lest I be sued by Disney) and unlimited magic powers? Or here’s a crazy idea: she could actually make it in the modern world with no fantasy or supernatural elements whatsoever. She could be a badass marine, a rookie cop, or a digital Robin Hood, all while using a sword. A cop with a sword? A marine with an energy blade? Hell yeah, now we’re talking!
If Gail does find another story to be a part of, then I can’t make the same mistakes I made with her in the past, which are make her too fragile and kill her off with no sympathy or empathy for her character. Gail has a lot of potential to be something great. She shouldn’t be ruined by an early death or a Mary-Sue stigma. I might have to go all the way with her and make her the main character of whatever story she’s a part of. Gail Reinhold: a badass diva with a blade and an attitude. I like the sound of that! It almost sounds like it has graphic novel implications. Bottom line: I believe in Gail’s star power. She can have the charisma if I give it to her. But the question now is, what story will she be a part of? Let’s go to Random.org to find out!
***WRESTLING QUOTE OF THE DAY***
“If Natalya won the Divas Title, that wouldn’t be good for Tyson Kidd. He’d have more things to carry.”
-John “Bradshaw” Layfield-
Thursday, November 6, 2014
WWE Hell in a Cell: Dean Ambrose vs. Seth Rollins
TITLE: WWE Hell in a Cell: Dean Ambrose vs. Seth Rollins
GENRE: Professional Wrestling Match
RATING: TV-PG for moderate violence and brief language
GRADE: Pass
A Hell in a Cell match is more than a typical steel cage fight. In this case, the cage surrounds the entire ring and exposes the concrete floor. You can’t win the match by escape because there is no escape. It’s just you and your opponent inside a wire mesh cage with no rules or regulations to hold you back. As heel commentator JBL so appropriately puts it, the only limit to your attack is your imagination. Dean Ambrose has a wild imagination in case you couldn’t tell from his erratic behavior. Seth Rollins can be just as sadistic and crazy. The first Hell in a Cell match between John Cena and Randy Orton was…acceptable. But this main event match between Ambrose and Rollins was going to steal the show.
Normally a match of this caliber would start in the ring and the bell would sound off three times to start the battle. Dean Ambrose didn’t want that. Carrying a kendo stick like a samurai sword with him, he wanted to start on TOP of the cell. Seth Rollins along with his two stooges Joey Mercury and Jamie Noble were (kind of) happy to humor him. Mercury and Noble got kendo stick welts for their troubles and Rollins and Ambrose fell off the cage and crashed through the English and Spanish-speaking announce tables.
It could have been over before it started. Dean Ambrose didn’t want that ending. He got off of his stretcher and chased Seth Rollins down before throwing him in the cell to officially start the match. Once the bell rung three times, these two warriors brutalized each other. They used chairs, sticks, steel stairs, and wooden tables, all in an effort to achieve victory. Corporate Kane was outside the cell and interfered by blasting Ambrose in the face with a fire extinguisher. That didn’t cool off the fire in the Lunatic Fringe’s belly. He wasn’t just pissed off at Seth Rollins; he had a bloodlust for him. He wanted to torture and twist him in the most painful ways possible.
Dean Ambrose was so close to exacting his revenge when he put an unconscious Seth Rollins’ head on top of cinder blocks to set up for Rollins’ own finisher move, the curb stomp. And then the arena went black and strange tongues were being spoken with a lantern and a ghost in the center of the ring. The speaker of that tongues was none other than the hypnotic and frightening Bray Wyatt, who downed Dean Ambrose with a spinning face buster and allowed Seth Rollins to cover Ambrose for the 1-2-3 pin. The match is over, but the emotional scars bleed like waterfalls and the physical pains burn like hellfire.
And now for the actual critique. To put it shortly, this match was as violent and psychotic as anybody could ask for. The blood was minimal, but the pain was at its maximum with the creative use of weaponry and the multi-story fall from the start of the match. This wasn’t just a wrestling match; this was a fight for survival. Dean Ambrose and Seth Rollins beat each other so badly after that fall it was amazing they didn’t have a hearse parked outside the arena. You’re damn right they were sore and bruised.
Believe it or not, the finish to the match where Bray Wyatt interfered didn’t bother me in the least bit. Yes, I wanted to see Dean Ambrose curb stomp Seth Rollins’ head into powder and slush. But then again, Bray Wyatt had been off of WWE television for a long time and needed a grand reintroduction. And now that the Hell in a Cell pay-per-view is in the books, we’re looking at a rivalry between Ambrose and Wyatt.
You know what that means? It means two crazies, two psychopaths are going to tear each other apart at some point. Dean Ambrose is like The Joker and Bray Wyatt is like Charles Manson. The two wrestlers have the mindset of serial killers and if they have to bleed each other out to get to the climax of their battle, well, let me put it his way: Seth Rollins is the luckiest guy on the planet. If these two loony tunes play enough mind games with each other for long enough, one of those minds will be running down a sewer drain while the other is bleeding with psychological trauma.
What you have to remember when watching WWE is everything happens for a reason. All you have to do as a fan is wait patiently for your favorites to triumph. It’s not an instant situation. It takes time for a climax to launch. Lots of time.
When Daniel Bryan was screwed out of the WWE Title at Summer Slam 2013, it took him until Wrestlemania XXX, which is an April 2014 pay-per-view to regain it. The point of this analogy is if you’re a fan and you want to see Seth Rollins get brutalized over and over again, but eventually for a final time, wait patiently. WWE waited patiently for Dean Ambrose vs. Seth Rollins to climax and it paid off in the most violent way possible, which is why this match in particular gets a passing grade.
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