When video games effortlessly mimic reality

I was having a conversation the other day about how the WWE’s minor league federation, NXT was either by coincidence or strategy, placed on Thursday nights.  Thursday nights are when TNA wrestling, the WWE’s main “competition” airs, and has been the norm for I don’t know, a year or two?

The joke is now that TNA is screwed, because they’re going to get outclassed and outdrawn by NXT, which is pretty much the equivalent of a Ford Mustang getting smoked by a Toyota Corolla, or Outback Steakhouse getting murdered by a Taco Bell in profit margins, or any other instance of something thought to be of moderate quality, getting owned by something thought to be of inferior quality.

I’m not entirely sure how that segued into talking about old video games, but at least I got to take my shot in at TNA in the process; seriously, this is going to be like the late 90’s when one hour of Sunday Night Heat started outdrawing three hours WCW Monday Nitro.

Anyway, I remember playing Smackdown 2 for the Piss1.  The roster was packed to the gills with top-tier talent of that era – The Rock, Triple H, Undertaker, Steve Austin, Mick Foley, Kurt Angle, etc, etc.  But as is the case with the hipster smark, I’m always intrigued and drawn to jobbers, and if we’re playing video games, those are the guys I’m always going to choose.  So after deliberating the jobbers among the default roster of available characters, I found myself picking Funaki at every chance I got.

And man, was Funaki terrible.  It’s like the programmers of the game knew he was designated to be a jobber, so his pool of moves was pathetically low.  I honestly don’t even remember what his finishing move in the game was, I think it might have been a hurricurana, or if the opponent was turnbuckled then maybe it was a frankensteiner.  Frankly, Funaki won almost no matches in real life with anything other than a cheap roll-up or small package pinfall, that he probably didn’t actually ever have a real-life finishing move.

But because it was a video game, and video games are always limited, or expansive as the skill of the player, I could still win with Funaki.  I would spam the hell out of the head-scissors and stomp enemies incessantly, until they ground down to low enough health where I could cradle them for pinfalls.  It wasn’t pretty, and truthfully it wasn’t a whole lot of fun, but I wanted a reality where Funaki rose through the ranks and became a main-eventer.

Put me up against other players, and I could beat them.  Didn’t matter if they were The Rock, or the Undertaker, I’d still manage to cheese them into defeat.  Choose Funaki in the Royal Rumble, and I could manage to throw guys over the top by spamming Irish whips as soon as guys entered to throw them back over the top rope onto the apron, followed by a drop kick to eliminate them; faster than 1988 Warlords, all day long.  It was definitely troll-like and ironic, but I could win with Funaki in exhibition modes and against other players.

But in the mode that really mattered, the “story” mode, in which you pick a wrestler, and storylines are supposed to come into play, and you will eventually get opportunities to rise through the ranks, and it’s supposed to culminate with Wrestlemania or something like that.  I’m not entirely sure, because I haven’t, and I don’t know anyone who’s actually played the game long enough to make it that far.

Anyway, this is what I really wanted to do ultimately, and take Funaki, and eventually get him to the main event of Wrestlemania, where I would undoubtedly take the WWF World Title away from whomever it was, whether it be The Rock, Austin, or Triple H.

So clearly, the story mode starts off fairly appropriately, and my first opponents is Essa Rios.  Pin him easily.  The next “show,” my opponent is, Essa Rios.  I’m like, okay, so I go out and beat him again.  Next is Scotty 2 Hotty, and I beat him too.  However, the next match I have is against, you guessed it, Essa Rios.  So I beat him again.

Mind you, while the “shows” play out, they try to act like real-life WWE programming, so there are occasional vignettes of other storylines playing out, and although they don’t make you watch them, other matches occur, so you’re always aware of who’s rising or falling in the ranks, and who has the all the respective championships.  Despite the fact that I’m the only one playing, and playing as Funaki, Funaki had yet to be inserted into any sort of storyline, or at least been involved in at least a vignette.

And as if the game were reading my mind, at the start of the next show, I’m delighted to see the start of a vignette occur, and there I am as Funaki, walking backstage with my Kaientai partner, Taka Michinoku, and suddenly a guy gets up in my grill, and the text boxes of dialogue indicate that he wants a match, HERE TONIGHT.  Of course, Funaki accepts.

Problem is, that guy was Essa Rios.

So for at least three “months” of game time, I had fought almost nobody other than Essa Rios, with occasional Scotty 2 Hotty or Crash Holly.  I won every single match without any difficulty.  Meanwhile, storylines were transpiring all around me, with The Rock feuding with Kurt Angle, Rikishi getting involved with Triple H, and Kane and the Undertaker at odds.  Sounds a lot like reality, even in a video game.

But what got me was that even Taka was involved in a storyline, being buddied up with Shane McMahon who was looking for a patsy to be his guest referee when he got involved with Steve Blackman.

Basically, every wrestler on the roster was getting a storyline except for the guy I happened to be in control of.

And then suddenly, at the third PPV event, apparently the game realized that it had to throw me a bone, because ultimately the programming of the game eventually needed to progress your character, so they can eventually make it to Wrestlemania.  That being said, I was suddenly in a Light Heavyweight title match against, X-Pac.  Finally, I thought, a chance to get a belt, and hopefully some storylines!

It’s almost as if Triple H himself was in the ears of the programmers when Smackdown 2 was made, and implored that all his buddies be unbeatable.  Despite the relative ease of defeating Essa Rios 50 times and Crash Holly and Scotty 2 Hotty additionally, fighting against X-Pac was suddenly like an insurmountable opponent.  It’s like the difficulty were ratcheted up to Expert mode for that particular match, and I could barely get any offense in against fucking X-Pac.

The coup de grace was when I went for a head-scissors and he countered it into a sit-out flapjack.  I didn’t even know that that move was even in the game.  I didn’t even know the counter/block button could even be applied to something like a head-scissors.  All I knew was that the match didn’t last much longer, and no matter how much button mashing I did to try and counter X-Pac’s onslaught, it was only a matter of time before I got X-Factor’d and pinned.  I felt dejected after losing that match.

When the next show began, and Essa Rios’ music hit, I turned the game off.  Didn’t even save my progress, because I had no more intention of playing the game anymore after that charade.

Somehow, in spite of a being a video game, where we tried to make our fantasies into realities, the WWE had managed to defy me there too.  Even in a virtual WWE, WWE political tropes managed to remain steadfast, and being a jobber in reality equates to being a jobber in a virtual world.  Triple H’s buddies still get preferential treatment, and those not in the fold are ground down and given shit work, until they are the ones who quit and are seen as responsible for their own demises.

Amazing how realistic Smackdown 2 managed to mimic real life so accurately.

Leave a Reply