Ace309

A shovel? What the fuck do you think pitchforks are for?

What are our feelings on a PPV schedule? Keep it at 8, move down to 6, or what?

What's the best day for a show?

Anyone want to fight?

Taken under advisement.

Wildchild gets Cross-Kaibatsu.

Markers assigned more or less randomly

It's only Tom and Landon if we bracket it like the rest of the world does. It's Tom and Spike if we bracket completely out of the blue for reasons even I don't understand.

Minor, minor tweak to stats. Minor.

Johnny's losing match ~~~~~~~~ Fourteen men stand in the ring as AftershoXXxXxXxXXXXXxxxxXxxxxxxXXXXXX returns from commercials! “Here we are!” ‘the Franchise’ Mak Francis proudly proclaims, “It’s the start of the annual Cold Front Classic--the granddaddy of all SWF tournaments! Tonight we kick of the ‘classic’ with a fifteen man battle royal!” “Which, if I may add,” adds King, “I don’t think anyone is very anxious to participate in such a huge crapfest of a match. We already have the Clusterfuck and that’s right around the corner!” “Maybe so, King, but the powers that be are ready to get this one started,” Francis says. “Let’s turn this one over to our lovable ring announcer Funyon!” “Ladies and gentlemen,” booms Funyon. “THIS IS YOU MAIN EVENT and it is the COLD FRONT CLASSIC SEEDING BATTLE ROYAL! FIFTEEN MEN WILL START! THE FIRST SEVEN MEN ELIMINATED FROM THE BATTLE ROYAL WILL BE ELIMINATED FROM THE TOURNAMENT! ELIMINATIONS OCCUR WHEN YOU GET KNOCKED OVER THE TOP ROPE AND BOTH FEET TOUCH THE FLOOR!!” “Good Lord,” the Gambling Man says. “Does he have to shout?” “If he wants to be heard over this raging crowd he does,” replies Francis. “Hey, it looks like there is only fourteen men in the ring. Where’s number fifteen?” “Who’s number fifteen?” “Ladies and gentlemen,” Funyon continues, “please welcome the final entrant to our SEEDING BATTLE ROYAL…” Everyone’s head quickly turns towards the curtains as the lights dim, and then the opening ‘fuse lighting’ scene from the Mission Impossible television series is shown on the SmarTron as the opening to the James Taylor Quartet’s cover of ‘Mission Impossible’ comes blaring over the speakers! As expected, the crowd explodes… YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!! The familiar, rhythm driven song continues with lights moving and pulsing in time with the music, while the Smarktron™ displays various clips of the Barracuda in ring, street and bedroom action. Finally, the curtains part and Johnny Dangerous strolls onto the stage to the deafening roar of over seventeen thousand fans! Johnny looks from side to side at the fans and then holds both arms out to them. “From Las Vegas, Nevada, and weighing in at two hundred twenty five pounds; he is your current and reigning SWF INTERNATIONAL CHAMPION; JOHNNY ‘THE BARRACUDA’ DANGEROUS!!” “JOHN-NY!” “JOHN-NY!” “JOHN-NY!” “JOHN-NY!” Chants of the Barracuda’s name come thundering from the audience, louder than any other time this year. He takes the fan appreciation with a smile…and then heads down the ramp, towards the ring. where the other fourteen anxiously await. “How the hell is it that Johnny Dangerous is the only man to get an entrance?” King asks as the situation is rather appalling to him. “Apparently the Barracuda is the only man to have shown up and write for this match,” explains Mak, “so he gets to do whatever he wants.” “What the hell are you talking about?” “… Never mind.” *DING-DING-DING!!!* “HERE WE GO!” The referee signals for the bell after Johnny slides into the ring and that’s when fist start flying! Everyone takes a hit and everyone delivers a hit, “-and it is complete and utter madness from the get go!” shouts Francis. “Who will stand tall at the end is any ones guess!” The only man to remain untouched is the lead attraction of the battle royal, Johnny Dangerous. He slowly stands up as Landon Maddix goes flying past him while Devin Benson goes skidding across the mat, just past the Barracuda’s feet. He carefully removes his International Championship belt, neatly folds it, and tucks it into the corner, and then takes his shades off and lies them next to his belt. “The Barracuda had better get with it,” the Gambling Man comments. “This match will be over before he can finish gellin’ his hair!” Finally, after a quick cracking of all ten of his knuckles Johnny Dangerous is ready to go. He swivels his head from side to side, looking for a chance to jump into the fight…and when he sees his opportunity he leaps in like a tiger! *CRACK!* *SMACK!* *WHACK!* “God damn! He’ll be feeling that shot for weeks!” *WHAM!* *THUD!* “There goes Bruce Blank!” shouts Francis. “Elimination number one by Johnny.” *SMACK!* “And now Charlie Matthews is thrown out like a sack of potatoes!” *CRACK!* *WHAP!* “Spike Jenkins!” *SMACK!* “Someone just threw a sandwich from…no, Tom, no! Damn! Flesher eliminated himself chasing an Arbys roast beef that JJ Johnson brought to the ring!” *WHAM!* “And there goes JJ Johnson—what a shame.” *POP!* “Landon Maddix is gone to after getting pimp slapped over the top rope!” “Crap that’s six already,” says Mak, “and now Gabriel Drake makes it seven after getting dragon punched out of this universe!” *SMACK!* *SMACK!* *SMACK!* *WHACK!* “Damn Akira, Nighthawk, and Michael Cross all fall…in that order!” *CRACK~!* “Johnny Kick! And there goes Jimmy the Doom!” *WHOOSH-CRACK!* Spinning heel kick puts Devin Benson out for the night!” “AND HE DRAGS MATT MYERS OUT WITH HIM! WHAT A MANEUVER!” *SMACK!* *CRACK!* *SMACK!* *WHACK!* *CRACK!* *CRACK!* *WHAM!* *WHACK!* *POP!* *POP!* *POP!* *POP!* *POP!* *SMACK!* *WHACK!* *CRACK!* *CRACK!* *WHAM!* *WHACK!* “God almight-” “ULTRA COMBO! And Nemesis is done and Johnny has won!” *DING-DING-DING!!!* “Here is your winner, Johnny Dangerous!” Johnny holds his arm up in victory then disappears into thin air… As we: FADE OUT.

I'd like Johnny to post his match, as it made my decision very difficult.

Erm... stuff is due tomorrow, WC.

I'd agree. It's a pretty lacklustre. Still, I like the tagline at the bottom and the font. Great start.

Speaking as Temporary Secretary to Raynor, the title shot is actually going to Angel.

THE MIDGET LUCHADORS HAVE RETURNED! That's right, my company of very short men in Mexican wrestling masks has completed its border run to China, and here's what they brought back: ~ For Divefire, we're sorry, but we couldn't bring back the MG/Rover car company. We did, however, bring you the Chinese nonunion equivalent of the band Booker T and the MGs, "The Little Red Coupe de Villes." ~ For Janus, we've got Spike Jenkins' Chinese midget equivalent, "Hunan" Spike Li. Careful - he's been smoking grass. (Not marijuana, actual grass.) ~ For Jay Hawke, a lifetime supply of Kung Pao Chicken in a KFC barrel, since that's what they gave us when we ordered "chicken," and the Chinese Junior Heavyweight Championship. Be advised, however, that it will change hands on a count-out, disqualification or mandate from heaven. ~ For Majordomo Belcourt, Tiannamen Rice Krispie Squares, flavoured with the soft, marshmallow-like resolve of the capitalist pigs. ~ For JJ Johnson, a bunch of illegal pornography produced by PornoSec, and a UV-protective helmet to shield you from the dumb looks of your friends. ~ For Akira, brain bleach. You're an evil, evil man. ~ For Michael Stephens, the Little Red Rug. ~ For Chris Raynor, a Ming Dynasty gunpowder-propelled rickshaw, complete with a crudely-carved Chinese Checker set that attempts to implement the little-known "Mongol rule" allowing you to forfeit a turn and in exchange punch your opponent in the mouth. ENJOY~!

BORDER RUN~!

Here we go! It's time for the PPV Border Run! However, things are a little different, because we're in North Korea. THEREFORE, if you meet one of the following conditions: a) You win your PPV match; b) Your match wins; c) You are a retired IGN/SWFer; or d) You are Crowe, you will receive an item of your choice from CHINA! Everyone make your requests, and my midget luchador will make the run and pick up your items!

Type /join , not just join.

It's still operational, but non-GOdrea, non-Australian people aren't common.

I believe it's actually four now, Divey. Shortdogger Ian's a big brother, although his career is progressing nicely. He just defeated Akira Kaibatsu's sister Larkin at Genemesis. In any case, congratulations on bringing Avery Lorelei into the world. I wish you many years as a happy family.

What typo? Congrats, Pete and Sydney!

I've been pushing for years to do an out-of-canon Halloween show where the card is booked normally, and then everyone trades characters with someone for the night, preferably not with your opponent. So if we have... Apple vs. Banana Cherry vs. Dogwood Egg vs. Flatulence Gomez vs. Mark Stevens then Apple and Dogwood could swap and Dogwood would write the Apple character for his match against Banana, as written by, say, Gomez. And so on.

This year, we're not doing my concept show. Like every year. Just because everyone would hate it but me.

King. And then I stole it.

If you're talking the chickenshit Memphis heel, which (again) is a valid way of being a heel but not the only way, then it really is important to win pretty regularly. The difference is that "winning" as a heel under the North American model can be entirely unrelated to having your hand raised. Take the Honky Tonk Man. For him, "winning" was keeping his title while expending a minimum of energy, so he got himself counted out and disqualified. On the other hand, take the Tom Flesher character. For him, "winning" is demonstrating his superiority over an opponent, preferably by making him submit, but in a pinch, ridiculing him before dropping him on his head will do. The Suicide King is pretty similar to the Flesher model - for him, "winning" usually was getting his hand raised by any means necessary, and that's why it was effective for him to cheat so regularly. I guess what I'm saying is that for a heel, "winning" has to involve taking something away from someone. I think the place where X-Net's point is most valid is in the blowoff of a feud. There, it usually makes the most sense for the face to win, since the heel winning the blowoff just makes it feel like someone else is going to have to knock him off at a meta-blowoff. Regards, Tom Flesher, D.Wr. Professor of Heelery, University of Phoenix