- Joined
- Oct 8, 2022
- Messages
- 1,153
- Reaction score
- 1,625
- Points
- 113
- Location
- Fort Worth, TX
- Favorite Sports Team
1
“Bonesaw Is Ready!”
The strobe lights flicker alive, the building’s walls a seizure of green. Dry ice plagues the floors, lifting witchlike into the crowd’s faces like cauldron steam.
An angry garbled diddy plays you out. You walk the ramp, a jet-black platform that inclines up to the ring apron for easy access. You step between the ropes and raise your microphone to your mouth.
“Bonesaw waited 2 years! 2 years of downtime. But New York has wrestling again!”
You gesture at the ring itself, now occupied by a world championship title resting upright on a Grecian column.
“I own it! Every bolt and wire, every roll of duct tape at the Nurses' Station, it’s mine! NYWL is mine! And we’re goin’ nowhere!”
Sometimes we are happy the people speaking to us are happy, and that was the feeling of the crowd. They cheer. You nod approvingly.
“And I found the hottest free agents from all over the world. A world title deserves diverse cultures, OH YEAH!”
The audience agrees in their confusion.
Inaudible rap erupts. The Great Muta comes out in a poofy white jacket. He has 3 suited wrestlers with him: there is the muscle, which is Masato Tanaka, the gaunt Sumie Sakai, wearing sunglasses indoors this evening, and the suave Steve Corino. The one who speaks better Brooklyn introduces themselves.
“We are The Great Council. We look after Keiji Mutoh’s personal assets, and before you go any farther, let me remind you that as hot as the free agents are in the back…they’re moons pulled into The Great Muta’s orbit.”
A metaphor lost on the crowd. Perhaps it's because they speak Bronx, which was not Brooklyn. Steve pursues the wordplay.
“The Great Muta is the brightest star a New Yorker can see, though that may be because of the pollution.”
He chuckles at his joke. The crowd boo because nobody likes twerps who laugh at their own jokes. The twerp continues.
“A star comes with demands. When Muta signed his contract, it stated The NYWL would allow The Great Muta creative input before tonight’s scheduled showtime. Moments before these New Yorkers walked through those back doors The Great Council and your board of directors had a meeting about the title.“
Gasps from the seated folk. You stumble around the turnbuckles like you're evading a swarm of hornets. A heavy blow to the forces of good. Corino tells the listeners they all agreed The Great Muta would be crowned The King of New York.
“Let me tell you something, Steve. My word is law, not no contract. Bonesaw respects The Great Council, but you will respect Bonesaw back!”
The Great Muta grabs Steve Corino’s shoulder and plants himself between you two. The 41-year-old takes the microphone from Steve’s hand and tells you, the owner of NYWL, how he knows you are not the Bonesaw from 2 years ago. Muta knows the story of Spiderman. Near-immortal superbeing with psychic powers and sticky rope upstaged the champion who was booked to fight the entire night against untrained walk-ons. But at least they were human. The fight exposed NYWL as lowbrow theater and broke you physically and mentally. Now word on the street was Bonesaw converted to Zen Japanese Buddhism, which sort of explains why you signed The Great Council. That’s why you won’t do shit. This was what Muta said.
Your turn.
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The Adventures Of Bonesaw is an idea that stemmed from playing Journey Of Wrestling’s 2004 scenario. Every wrestler and personality featured is a free agent not attached to a company’s in-game roster. Some liberties were taken in the name of Gonzo booking. Please follow for more shenanigans.
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NYWL Fan Mail
Q: Where did Bonesaw get the finances to reopen NYWL?
A: A friendly donation.
Q: Where are The Bone-ettes?
A: Commentary and ring announcing.
Q: Will we see superheroes?
A: Of course, this is pro wrestling. Do you mean mutants? Nah.
Q: Did Bonesaw’s husband make his outfit?
A: No. Gay marriage is illegal in NY for another 7 years, as that doucherachnid knows. Bonesaw's life partner made it.
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I have a set roster of 40 individuals, but I wish to write with a 2004-era mystique and not share it. Wild card!
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The strobe lights flicker alive, the building’s walls a seizure of green. Dry ice plagues the floors, lifting witchlike into the crowd’s faces like cauldron steam.
An angry garbled diddy plays you out. You walk the ramp, a jet-black platform that inclines up to the ring apron for easy access. You step between the ropes and raise your microphone to your mouth.
“Bonesaw waited 2 years! 2 years of downtime. But New York has wrestling again!”
You gesture at the ring itself, now occupied by a world championship title resting upright on a Grecian column.
“I own it! Every bolt and wire, every roll of duct tape at the Nurses' Station, it’s mine! NYWL is mine! And we’re goin’ nowhere!”
Sometimes we are happy the people speaking to us are happy, and that was the feeling of the crowd. They cheer. You nod approvingly.
“And I found the hottest free agents from all over the world. A world title deserves diverse cultures, OH YEAH!”
The audience agrees in their confusion.
Inaudible rap erupts. The Great Muta comes out in a poofy white jacket. He has 3 suited wrestlers with him: there is the muscle, which is Masato Tanaka, the gaunt Sumie Sakai, wearing sunglasses indoors this evening, and the suave Steve Corino. The one who speaks better Brooklyn introduces themselves.
“We are The Great Council. We look after Keiji Mutoh’s personal assets, and before you go any farther, let me remind you that as hot as the free agents are in the back…they’re moons pulled into The Great Muta’s orbit.”
A metaphor lost on the crowd. Perhaps it's because they speak Bronx, which was not Brooklyn. Steve pursues the wordplay.
“The Great Muta is the brightest star a New Yorker can see, though that may be because of the pollution.”
He chuckles at his joke. The crowd boo because nobody likes twerps who laugh at their own jokes. The twerp continues.
“A star comes with demands. When Muta signed his contract, it stated The NYWL would allow The Great Muta creative input before tonight’s scheduled showtime. Moments before these New Yorkers walked through those back doors The Great Council and your board of directors had a meeting about the title.“
Gasps from the seated folk. You stumble around the turnbuckles like you're evading a swarm of hornets. A heavy blow to the forces of good. Corino tells the listeners they all agreed The Great Muta would be crowned The King of New York.
“Let me tell you something, Steve. My word is law, not no contract. Bonesaw respects The Great Council, but you will respect Bonesaw back!”
The Great Muta grabs Steve Corino’s shoulder and plants himself between you two. The 41-year-old takes the microphone from Steve’s hand and tells you, the owner of NYWL, how he knows you are not the Bonesaw from 2 years ago. Muta knows the story of Spiderman. Near-immortal superbeing with psychic powers and sticky rope upstaged the champion who was booked to fight the entire night against untrained walk-ons. But at least they were human. The fight exposed NYWL as lowbrow theater and broke you physically and mentally. Now word on the street was Bonesaw converted to Zen Japanese Buddhism, which sort of explains why you signed The Great Council. That’s why you won’t do shit. This was what Muta said.
Your turn.
You admit to your new lease on life, but this is pro wrestling and you found a guy who could help keep the peace for you instead.
Guitars clang somewhat melodically when Jeff Hardy appears. He is in his best Criss Angel apparel. He slides in, which is a weird thing to do when the ramp elevates up into the ring.
Jeff immediately gets pummeled by The Great Council. All the ruckus upsets the ground, causing the column to rattle and The King of New York belt to topple over. You flee the scene, but not before getting the last word.
“You think you’re bad, Muta? Bonesaw will show you bad. Hardy got guts, be he ain’t my big helper. Say hello to Bonesaw’s insurance policy!”
The crowd mutters in bewilderment. Rock music with horns farts through the arena. LA Park ambles towards The Great Council with a steel chair. He swings, missing every single one of them, but the message is sent. The Great Council leaves of their own accord while Park helps Jeff back to his feet. Together they milk the crowd with their charismatic enigma.
The world title lies forgotten on the mat.
As the weeks go by, LA Park becomes your own personal chair-swingin’ freak. The Great Council vow to never come back if this is the welcome they’ll receive. The crowd likes it, but it’s 2004 and wrestling chatrooms begin to suspect truth in the script. You try to squash them, but it only makes viewers more suspect. People are dumb sometimes, what can I tell you? Nobody cares to correct the tiny problems anyways because supervillains exist, so the rumors stay alive among the fans who take violent burlesque seriously.
Though it may work in your favor. Consumers love uncertainty, which your plan seems to propagate. Tickets for your January event, Dead Man’s Party, are flying out of HQ by Week 2.
Week 3 you hit a snag creatively. Your biggest stars are LA Park and Muta, and it’s too soon to pull the trigger. So what you had written down was this: Have Gangrel beat Blue Meanie in the Opening Match of Week 1, Gangrel bites Meanie in the neck with a lovely blood show for those ECW-loving savages, Week 2 has Gangrel cut a super duper short backstage promo about whatever is spooky in pop culture right now (It’s Saw, so he starts his dialogue with “I vant to play a game” because he’s as intimidating a talker as a homicidal cancer patient would be), then he abducts LA Park in Week 3, locking him in a coffin. The Great Council runs amok on the go-home show until there is a 4 man group who come out to save the day (Jeff Hardy, Mike Awesome, Sabu, and Sara Del Rey to balance out Sumie Sakai). It sets up a 4 on 4 Intergender Tag Match. This will also be the night LA Park breaks out of the sarcophagus, setting up a Casket Match between him and Gangrel. Bada boom, you got your main event with Muta’s posse and a few promising babyfaces while building Park up in a nice gimmick match. It’s a Dead Man’s Party, who could ask for more?
The best-lain plans of mice and men fucks you over. Awesome/Tanaka would have had an explosive encounter if left to germinate. The pop in the multi-man went like the snapping of fingers. You gave the women much-needed heat but it's a small positive compared to earlier that night.
In making Gangrel a credible monster, you gave the world The Red Meanie.
Gangrel’s minion storms the ring at the event and assists with sticking LA Park in the casket. That’s fine, that’s part of the show, but Red Meanie gets carried away with his new character and slams the lid on Park’s skull too fucking hard. Your insurance policy goes unconscious in the encasement.
The referee has no choice but to give Gangrel the victory. He’s not a great actor so he paces around with his hand over his mouth, shaking his head, and showing every sign of what had happened wasn't intended. Red Meanie makes it worse by crawling on all fours, licking the vampire’s boots, and whatever else kayfabe servants of darkness do that's not kosher for a Book This.
Red Meanie is open to many perverse improvisations as you'll be reminded in garage interviews for years and years to come.
You book LA Park to beat Gangrel in a regular match the following week. Now both men have the momentum of a beached whale. You salvage what you can by pitting Muta against Jeff Hardy, Mike Awesome, and then Sabu for the following months but you’ve lost your booking spirit by the time LA Park is hot again.
After a few months you give New York Wrestling League to well-off but stupid mafia types and live your days sweating over stained photographs of yourself at stuffy conventions.
What? You knew this would be the bad ending, didn't you? I didn't give a hint as to what would be bad? I'll do that next time.
Guitars clang somewhat melodically when Jeff Hardy appears. He is in his best Criss Angel apparel. He slides in, which is a weird thing to do when the ramp elevates up into the ring.
Jeff immediately gets pummeled by The Great Council. All the ruckus upsets the ground, causing the column to rattle and The King of New York belt to topple over. You flee the scene, but not before getting the last word.
“You think you’re bad, Muta? Bonesaw will show you bad. Hardy got guts, be he ain’t my big helper. Say hello to Bonesaw’s insurance policy!”
The crowd mutters in bewilderment. Rock music with horns farts through the arena. LA Park ambles towards The Great Council with a steel chair. He swings, missing every single one of them, but the message is sent. The Great Council leaves of their own accord while Park helps Jeff back to his feet. Together they milk the crowd with their charismatic enigma.
The world title lies forgotten on the mat.
As the weeks go by, LA Park becomes your own personal chair-swingin’ freak. The Great Council vow to never come back if this is the welcome they’ll receive. The crowd likes it, but it’s 2004 and wrestling chatrooms begin to suspect truth in the script. You try to squash them, but it only makes viewers more suspect. People are dumb sometimes, what can I tell you? Nobody cares to correct the tiny problems anyways because supervillains exist, so the rumors stay alive among the fans who take violent burlesque seriously.
Though it may work in your favor. Consumers love uncertainty, which your plan seems to propagate. Tickets for your January event, Dead Man’s Party, are flying out of HQ by Week 2.
Week 3 you hit a snag creatively. Your biggest stars are LA Park and Muta, and it’s too soon to pull the trigger. So what you had written down was this: Have Gangrel beat Blue Meanie in the Opening Match of Week 1, Gangrel bites Meanie in the neck with a lovely blood show for those ECW-loving savages, Week 2 has Gangrel cut a super duper short backstage promo about whatever is spooky in pop culture right now (It’s Saw, so he starts his dialogue with “I vant to play a game” because he’s as intimidating a talker as a homicidal cancer patient would be), then he abducts LA Park in Week 3, locking him in a coffin. The Great Council runs amok on the go-home show until there is a 4 man group who come out to save the day (Jeff Hardy, Mike Awesome, Sabu, and Sara Del Rey to balance out Sumie Sakai). It sets up a 4 on 4 Intergender Tag Match. This will also be the night LA Park breaks out of the sarcophagus, setting up a Casket Match between him and Gangrel. Bada boom, you got your main event with Muta’s posse and a few promising babyfaces while building Park up in a nice gimmick match. It’s a Dead Man’s Party, who could ask for more?
The best-lain plans of mice and men fucks you over. Awesome/Tanaka would have had an explosive encounter if left to germinate. The pop in the multi-man went like the snapping of fingers. You gave the women much-needed heat but it's a small positive compared to earlier that night.
In making Gangrel a credible monster, you gave the world The Red Meanie.
Gangrel’s minion storms the ring at the event and assists with sticking LA Park in the casket. That’s fine, that’s part of the show, but Red Meanie gets carried away with his new character and slams the lid on Park’s skull too fucking hard. Your insurance policy goes unconscious in the encasement.
The referee has no choice but to give Gangrel the victory. He’s not a great actor so he paces around with his hand over his mouth, shaking his head, and showing every sign of what had happened wasn't intended. Red Meanie makes it worse by crawling on all fours, licking the vampire’s boots, and whatever else kayfabe servants of darkness do that's not kosher for a Book This.
Red Meanie is open to many perverse improvisations as you'll be reminded in garage interviews for years and years to come.
You book LA Park to beat Gangrel in a regular match the following week. Now both men have the momentum of a beached whale. You salvage what you can by pitting Muta against Jeff Hardy, Mike Awesome, and then Sabu for the following months but you’ve lost your booking spirit by the time LA Park is hot again.
After a few months you give New York Wrestling League to well-off but stupid mafia types and live your days sweating over stained photographs of yourself at stuffy conventions.
What? You knew this would be the bad ending, didn't you? I didn't give a hint as to what would be bad? I'll do that next time.
You remind Muta how we all grow as individuals and once growth is scoffed at, spiritual discourse dies. This throws The Great Council into a frenzy, Japanese arguments clashing between the lot.
You grab the NY King title from the column before their ox-like behavior makes you some future asshole’s gamer music compilation.
Muta stares you down right before you tell whoever is watching backstage to come out and protect NYWL in its time of need. Your wild improvisation conjures a storm of athletes, from names like Dustin Rhodes and Monty Brown to local talent. They fill up the outside.
The Great Council drops their alpha shit and makes a retreat.
The visual of a full ring sticks with many fans that evening, and some would find inspiration by the scene. They would go into photography, and others to wrestle professionally. One will be given the spark to write a TV series about the ripe drama of the squared circle. It'll be called Thumb Wrestling Federation and it will air on Cartoon Network.
But your plans are now shot to shit. Making a grand gesture put you in a corner, and the only way to right the wrong would be to set up a Battle Royal at Dead Man’s Party by Week 2. The Great Muta himself could be a competitor, ergo The New York King Championship the prize. When you speak to The Council outside of kayfabe you learn your current champion is splitting his time between the East Coast and Japan. The less amount of work for your champ at this conjuncture the better.
And defending a title this early and against the locker room no less is silly-billy-Jennifer-Tilly.
Week 3 goes by uneventfully. Interest in your big event dwindles. Nobody believes you’re taking it off Muta, and the people who are grabbing tickets are guaranteed to be the sort who come not for the billed stars, but for themselves.
That’s dandy. You begin to learn chaos is the true cash cow here, and the go-home show is when you bring it all to focus. No, you can’t put your NY title on the line. It’s supposed to be a B event anyways. You announce a 10-Man Weapons Battle Royal instead. Muta will face the winner at the next event in February - Video Nasty. The branding starts to sell itself. This gives you time to build up solid challengers while giving the crowd something to feast on.
Sabu wins the Weapons Battle Royal. Mike Awesome had the most eliminations, and rounding off Final Four was LA Park and Jeff Hardy, solid acts for a future title booking.
You don’t make much money, but that was not the goal.
Your reboot catches the attention of others in the wrestling community. Kevin Nash would make an appearance after Dead Man’s Party to challenge Mike Awesome. He didn’t put Mike over in a match, but he does take Awesome Bombs for 2 weeks, helping to get the move over. Now you will have several hot challengers for Muta.
Video Nasty looms, but you are content like The Buddha.
You grab the NY King title from the column before their ox-like behavior makes you some future asshole’s gamer music compilation.
Muta stares you down right before you tell whoever is watching backstage to come out and protect NYWL in its time of need. Your wild improvisation conjures a storm of athletes, from names like Dustin Rhodes and Monty Brown to local talent. They fill up the outside.
The Great Council drops their alpha shit and makes a retreat.
The visual of a full ring sticks with many fans that evening, and some would find inspiration by the scene. They would go into photography, and others to wrestle professionally. One will be given the spark to write a TV series about the ripe drama of the squared circle. It'll be called Thumb Wrestling Federation and it will air on Cartoon Network.
But your plans are now shot to shit. Making a grand gesture put you in a corner, and the only way to right the wrong would be to set up a Battle Royal at Dead Man’s Party by Week 2. The Great Muta himself could be a competitor, ergo The New York King Championship the prize. When you speak to The Council outside of kayfabe you learn your current champion is splitting his time between the East Coast and Japan. The less amount of work for your champ at this conjuncture the better.
And defending a title this early and against the locker room no less is silly-billy-Jennifer-Tilly.
Week 3 goes by uneventfully. Interest in your big event dwindles. Nobody believes you’re taking it off Muta, and the people who are grabbing tickets are guaranteed to be the sort who come not for the billed stars, but for themselves.
That’s dandy. You begin to learn chaos is the true cash cow here, and the go-home show is when you bring it all to focus. No, you can’t put your NY title on the line. It’s supposed to be a B event anyways. You announce a 10-Man Weapons Battle Royal instead. Muta will face the winner at the next event in February - Video Nasty. The branding starts to sell itself. This gives you time to build up solid challengers while giving the crowd something to feast on.
Sabu wins the Weapons Battle Royal. Mike Awesome had the most eliminations, and rounding off Final Four was LA Park and Jeff Hardy, solid acts for a future title booking.
You don’t make much money, but that was not the goal.
Your reboot catches the attention of others in the wrestling community. Kevin Nash would make an appearance after Dead Man’s Party to challenge Mike Awesome. He didn’t put Mike over in a match, but he does take Awesome Bombs for 2 weeks, helping to get the move over. Now you will have several hot challengers for Muta.
Video Nasty looms, but you are content like The Buddha.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The Adventures Of Bonesaw is an idea that stemmed from playing Journey Of Wrestling’s 2004 scenario. Every wrestler and personality featured is a free agent not attached to a company’s in-game roster. Some liberties were taken in the name of Gonzo booking. Please follow for more shenanigans.
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NYWL Fan Mail
Q: Where did Bonesaw get the finances to reopen NYWL?
A: A friendly donation.
Q: Where are The Bone-ettes?
A: Commentary and ring announcing.
Q: Will we see superheroes?
A: Of course, this is pro wrestling. Do you mean mutants? Nah.
Q: Did Bonesaw’s husband make his outfit?
A: No. Gay marriage is illegal in NY for another 7 years, as that doucherachnid knows. Bonesaw's life partner made it.
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I have a set roster of 40 individuals, but I wish to write with a 2004-era mystique and not share it. Wild card!
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