The Russian Federation Of Wrestling

[Taylor2020]

You can really tell some of the booking here was not done while sober.

And I mean that in the best way.

[ElectricX]

Lack of chemistry sucks. Maybe Bryan Danielson can help improve your other talent, though.

[dstephe4]

 

I was expecting serious repercussions after Episode 3 went off air. For many nights afterwards, I went to bed with a sense of dread few would ever experience. Every time an envelope came in the mail I was half-expecting it to be full of Sarin powder or Anthrax or something. I wandered the streets just waiting to be snatched into a speeding car and thrown into the Moskva River. I found myself drinking more vodka than Boris Yeltsin and more champagne than Pablo Picasso.  My big plan had been to build the whole Russian Federation Of Wrestling around one feud - Daniels vs Dragunov. This was the kind of rivalry that could make it rain money, if done correctly. With expert booking and careful promotion, it was the kind of programme that would captivate millions and generate months of must-see television. Unfortunately it was instead driven by a stumbling, shambolic, half-drunken Brit who knew nothing about pro wrestling. What should have been a masterpiece turned into a disaster. Something as simple as a lack of chemistry between two athletes had f****d everything, and now I was screwed. The fans were outraged. The locker-room were outraged. The shady, shadowy figures who towered over me like puppet-masters were outraged. Daniels vs Dragunov as a main event was dead. Our momentum was dead. The master-plan was dead. Surely, I thought, so was I. But nothing happened. Normally after each show I'd have a myriad of corporate TV shills in suits complaining at me. Or I'd have Oleg and his big pistol telling me the shows weren't "butch" or "masculine" enough. I was expecting heat, but there was nothing. Social media was surprisingly quiet, but then this is Russia, and that doesn't mean a thing here. I was almost stupid enough to think I'd gotten away with it, until the Wednesday after the show, when my stress and panic turned into genuine dread and fear. That morning I awoke in terror. A cold sweat laced my forehead. A feeling of dread filled my gut. Adrenaline surged through my system. I leapt out of bed in a panic. Instinctively I knew... I just knew... that someone had been here while I slept. Someone bad. Someone uninvited. It was a horrifying feeling to think that somebody had been here while I was alone and vulnerable and defenceless. Don't ask me how I knew there'd been an intruder - they had left hardly any trace. But I knew. I checked my safe, but all of my valuables were untouched. The million or so dollars worth of modern art I'd gathered from nearly a decade of dodgy Russian deals remained completely undisturbed. The $50,000 I'd been too tired to finish counting was still on the dinner table, exactly how I'd left it. My Rolex still rested on top like the cherry on an obscenely expensive cake. Whoever had been here was no common thief, that was for sure. I checked my state of the art security system and my blood turned to ice. Somehow the 19 security cameras leading up to my penthouse had mysteriously stopped recording after midnight. The laser mesh defence grid had been somehow deactivated remotely. There were a dozen firewalls protecting this system. This was a system that was almost impossible to crack. Yet it had been nullified as if it were child's play. It would surely have taken the very best hackers anywhere to pull off a feat like this - but who? But why? I looked through my panoramic windows, gazing fearfully outside at the courtyard surrounding the building. There were patrol dogs there every night - highly trained Alsatians recently retired from the Russian Special Forces - big, vicious b******s. Whoever had been in my apartment would've had to somehow get past nature's finest, most fearsome hunters. Sure enough, I could see 5 sleeping canines on the patio below, drugged to their eyeballs. Can dogs snore, I wondered? It must have taken a huge amount of effort and planning to get past them like this. Whoever had been here were pros. The best. I was an extremely light sleeper before my involvement in The Russian Federation Of Wrestling. By this point my paranoia had upgraded me to a full-on insomnia. What little sleep I did get was so shallow the slightest sound would rouse me from my slumber. A mouse could fart 3 blocks away and I'd hear it and jump out of bed. So whoever had been here must have been a true master of stealth. As silent as the grave. We're talking Ninjas here. Whichever shadowy, mysterious presence had gone to such ridiculous efforts to enter my home had not been motivated my greed. The fact that I was still alive and un-maimed ruled out revenge or assassination as motives too. Who had been here? What had they done? Why had they gone to such elaborate ends to gain entry?  And then suddenly I saw it. My eyes clasped upon the strange, unwelcome object and would not let go. The intruders had left me something. A sinister gift. But why? Why? WHY? Of all the things... why this?!?!     Above: Fear and loathing, in tragic beige plastic. I'd woken up to find a fax machine installed in my home. Yes, really, a fax machine. They really do still exist. It wasn't there the night before. "Where the f*** do you even get a fax machine from?!" I wondered. Some devious mastermind had gone to the trouble of breaking into my 37th floor penthouse apartment... getting through 8 heavily locked security doors in the process... gained entry while I was asleep, gone about their business without making a sound or leaving a single trace of their existence... then escaped again without leaving a single clue... all just to install a fax machine. In the most inventively sinister way possible. "This is f*****g crazy!" I thought to myself in a state of panic, but then thought "no. This isn't crazy. This is Russia." I looked closer. There was paper In this thing. Who'd put that there?! I hadn't touched paper since high school. Then I saw a long, beige cable snaking it's way across my plush blue carpet, all the way to the wall. "Those weird, devious b******s!" I yelled to myself in disbelief. "They've... they've... I don't know how but they've somehow installed a phone line! In my home! While I was asleep!" It was like I was living in the world's most technologically inept spy caper. Not only had they drilled and chiselled the wall to install the socket, but they'd also re-plastered and perfectly re-painted the wall around it too. "Who the f*** am I dealing with here?!" I muttered to myself in quiet wonder. Suddenly the archaic piece of dead-tech whirred and churned into life. Weird little green lights flashed on the front. It hummed and vibrated as the coils and motors spun into action. It juddered and hummed aggressively at me as it worked. This crappy old machine hated me, I could tell. After about 15 minutes and more beeps and whistles than R2D2 getting a blowjob, the infernal machine was finally done.  It was a note from Oleg and his goons at The Russian Ministry For Sport. I grabbed the sheet and squinted to read the faint, spidery, pixelated writing. It seemed to be a list of rules. "VERY IMPORTANT RULES!!!" apparently. Important enough to warrant 3 exclamation marks it seemed. My shadowy paymasters had decided not to kill me (yet) but instead decided to put me in my place. To re-assert their authority over me in the most '21st Century Russia' way possible - death by rules and regulations. Some of these I'd already been told. Some of these had been carefully implied. Others came as a genuine surprise. Here's a summary of the ridiculous hoops I'd now have to jump through, on top of the numerous challenges I already faced...     You must sign every Russian pro wrestler in the world. Regardless of cost or age or overness or (lack of) talent. If any new Russian wrestlers emerge on the scene, they must be signed immediately. Forget giving them time to make a name for themselves or hone their craft. Sign them immediately and throw them in at the deep end.  Every Russian (or nearly Russian) pro wrestler must be given a lucrative 2 year iron-clad exclusive written contract, whether they deserve it or not. They cannot be released at any point, no matter how much they suck. Only at the end of the 2 years can you get rid of them, but... Every Russian / sort-of-Russian you fire must be replaced immediately by another Russian or sort-of-Russian. 2 year contact as above. Russian Glory. A Russian / nearly-Russian must hold the main strap at least 60% of the time. Failure on this rule would result in large mysterious men in suits taking the belt off whatever foreigner was wearing it too long, and beating me to death with it. Russian Wealth. From year 2 onwards, the highest paid member(s) of the roster must be Russian. This means that if a foreigner is ever brought in on a higher wage than their Russian counterparts, the Russian(s) must immediately be offered new contracts for a higher amount.  8 out of every 10 main events must feature a Russian. One of the others may be a European vs Westerner. Only 1 main event in 10 may be filled with Immoral Capitalist Greedy Westerners, as their corruptive influence on the masses must be severely limited. 7 out of every 10 wrestlers on the roster must be Russian. This one speaks for itself. Clearly strength in numbers was a big deal. RFW must not deviate from the Family Friendly 70/30 product. This is a wholesome family show. With morals and stuff. So what if that makes it suck? So what if that makes booking it needlessly difficult? The traditional virtues of the Russian Federation must be held above all else. Even stuff like drinking and smoking on camera was strictly banned.  Women must never wrestle. This one really pissed me off. Women's wrestling is exploding worldwide, but Oleg and his cronies at the Ministry Of Sport declared that wrestling is "a man's industry". "The masculine arts must not be diluted by Westernised, insensible feminist propaganda" was the exact wording of the bulls*** that was forced upon me.  Don't mention the war. This one was pretty obvious, given that this whole enterprise was started to distract people from the Ukraine War shambles. The grainy, blurry fax writing made it hard to decipher the punishment if I disobeyed this rule. But it definitely involved wolves and scorpions. Hooray for drugs! Vladimir Putin, I was told, was still mightily pissed off that Russian athletes had been banned from all Olympic events due the performance-enhancing drugs they were munching like Tic-Tacs. Since then, drugs testing was now classified as a 'Western Evil' and had no place in the RFW. I'd be dragged into a submarine and shot out of a torpedo bay if I even so much as hinted that anyone had to piss in a cup. Immoral Capitalists. My 'other' boss Konstantin Ernst, head of the infamous Russia 1 network that 'owned' my company, had already stated our most popular wrestler Bill Goldberg must never hold the World or International titles. The Ministry went a step further and extended this ban to any WCW alumni, such was the greed and bulls*** that went on there back in the day. Evil Foreigners. To limit the decadent, filthy influence that Western Capitalists may have on the fine viewers of Russia, no non-Russian may be given a contract lasting more than 2 years. Once that contract is expired, they cannot be signed back under any circumstances, ever.  And finally, my personal favourite... Death To Americana. Perhaps you've heard that Russia and America don't get along? Perhaps you've heard the two have a bit of a history? As such no American patriotic symbolism of any kind is allowed. I was only allowed to display an American flag on our shows if it was being burned. Yes, really. I still have the fax to prove it. There was also a total ban on all American rock music too, which was just mean.     The fax machine sat there, staring at me, mocking me with it's very presence. The smug, beige, obsolete, crap plastic b*****d was laughing at me, I could tell. It was about as welcome as a human turd on a children's birthday cake. I hated it immediately.  It had to go. It had to die. It had to be destroyed in the most glorious way possible. But how?  There was only one method of destruction triumphant enough for a hateful machine such as this... Death By Pro Wrestling. My superiors had tried to send me a message with this fax machine stunt. It was a show of power, to put me in my place. Maybe it was time to send them a message back...

 

Edited March 9, 2023 by dstephe4

[ElectricX]

Those are some challenging rules to build your company on. Hopefully all the non-Russian talent can help further improve the "home grown" talent in the federation.

[MidKnightDreary]

Perfect rules for this insanity. 

[dstephe4]

On 3/7/2023 at 11:24 AM, Old School Fan said:

Exactly what happens when: 

(1) One gets too cocky for their own good, and...  😏

(2) One isn't careful with how they look after high-end rented cars.  🙃

That easily has to be the most humorous and enjoyable part of this post.  😎

@Old School Fan the car had it coming. What's the point of having all that money if you can't blow s*** up from time to time?! lol  I've read quite a few of your dynasties and have always enjoyed your work - it's fantastic to see you on here - I hope you keep following and enjoy the ride!
 

On 3/7/2023 at 8:19 PM, Taylor2020 said:

You can really tell some of the booking here was not done while sober.

And I mean that in the best way.

@Taylor2020 I heard an old proverb once which said fun is like a fire which we must all feed so it doesn't go out. All I know is fire gets a hell of a lot bigger when you pour vodka on it lol!

A couple of these posts were written with a few beers in me, sure. But most of these weird and wonderful booking decisions are made when sober, believe it or not lol  My brain works differently sometimes. I get these silly ideas and my mind just won't leave me alone until I use them lol  The post-show behind the scenes piece which will follow Episode 5 came to me in a bizarre, boozy dream. I think you'll really get a kick out of that one lol  

Thank you for reading, it's great to have you here!
 

On 3/7/2023 at 11:07 PM, ElectricX said:

Lack of chemistry sucks. Maybe Bryan Danielson can help improve your other talent, though.

@ElectricX Never before has 'Lack Of Chemistry' fist-f****d my plans so badly. It all adds to the fun though. I guess it wouldn't be much of a story if everything went smoothly. Thanks again for coming back from the outside world to read my silly little diary. Means a lot.
 

On 3/9/2023 at 3:58 AM, ElectricX said:

Those are some challenging rules to build your company on. Hopefully all the non-Russian talent can help further improve the "home grown" talent in the federation.

On 3/9/2023 at 6:23 PM, MidKnightDreary said:

Perfect rules for this insanity. 

@MidKnightDreary Yeah, I thought they might be like the cherry on top, in terms of challenge. The hardest one is the rule where I must have a Russian in the main event (almost) every time. Otherwise it'd be easy just to throw Daniels and Goldberg in the ring together and bask in the glow of the high rating. Mind you, even if I did that, Goldberg faints if his matches go longer than 6 minutes. And also Konstantin Ernst would send out a death squad if Old Bill ever got his hands on the main strap lol

 

---

 

Thank you everybody for reading this amusing pile of sillyness. More post-Soviet fun to follow soon.

Edited March 11, 2023 by dstephe4

[dstephe4]

 

@St. Templar @Vandal @DinoKea @GreatreDRagon @Taylor2020 @Just here to look @christmas_ape @SonOfSharknado @Ippon @KingKennit @Pteroid @MidKnightDreary @John Lions @DarEatWorld @ElectricX @knkmaster69 @Old School Fan Hello to all you fantastic people who have been kind enough to keep up with this silly little diary so far. Those who have interacted are tagged above, but all are invited to The Russian Federation Of Wrestling's Big Sexy Predictions Thingy.  It's like the Predictions Leagues you see in so many other diaries, except the points won't carry forwards after each show, and there's more prizes on offer. The first 3 shows were booked before I started writing up this nonsense. But from now on we're in unchartered waters. Which means you fine folk get to heavily influence things from this stage on. Here's how it works: I post the card before each show. You make your guesses. Whoever scores the most gets a 'prize' whereby they have a big impact on the next show, or the direction of this farcical federation going forwards.  Prizes will include things like choosing our next big signings, choosing opponents for title matches, choosing the identities of surprise opponents, choosing who should tag with who, choosing special guest referees, stuff like that. Big stuff. Fun stuff. Stuff that could swing this thing in lots of unexpected directions.  Fancy getting involved? Here's the card for Episode 4. Tuck in and enjoy...     Bill Goldberg vs Aleksandr "Vertigo" Klaptsov Stage 3 of Goldberg's Gauntlet. As part of Loud Bill's continuing quest for another shot at the World Title, he must face the unknown talents of the man they call 'Vertigo'. This mysterious and rather dweeby-looking high-flyer is getting a big push, because @Pteroid said so. Let's see what happens.   "Dirty" Dragan Spazic vs Kris "The Falcon" Jovik vs Ivan "The Body" Markov vs "The Pitbull" Andrei Arlovski A #1 Contenders Match for the Russian National Title In what appears to be surprisingly pleasing festival of nicknames, a Russian and 2 nearly-Russians are thrown kicking and screaming into a ring with the former UFC Heavyweight Champion.   Alen Khubulov vs Tamerlan Rasuev Two enemies share a ring once again, for the Russian National Title. Who'd have thought Steven Seagal's cunning plan of putting these two hated enemies in a tag team together would backfire? In a turn of events that shocked nobody at all, the two guys who've beaten the crap out of each other since day one continued to do so last week. As a result, former UFC Champion Andrei Arlovski got the big win, and Khubulov got his first defeat. Seagal has demanded they finish their feud once and for all, one-on-one, but will this be enough to settle the bad blood between them?   Ilja Dragunov & ??? vs Bryan Daniels & ??? A mystery tag team partner type thing. Except the vacant slots are available to literally any member of the RFW roster who fancies having a go. Yeah, I've no idea how you're meant to predict this one either.  In what can only be described as an act of sheer panic by the inept booker of this corrupt cesspit of a company, the two highly talented stars of the show who cannot share a ring together without sucking, find themselves on opposing sides of a tag match instead. Let's just hope this one doesn't result in a national outrage like the last main event did. Let's say 1 point for picking the winner, 1 point for each correctly guessed tag partner.     The prize this time: Whoever gets the highest score gets to pick any member of the RFW roster. No matter who they choose or why, I will then be duty-bound to put a rocket up their ass and push them to the moon.     Get predicting. And good luck to you all.

 

Edited March 15, 2023 by dstephe4

[DinoKea]

Episode 4 Predictions

Bill Goldberg def. Aleksandr "Vertigo" Klaptsov

"Dirty" Dragan Spazic def. Kris "The Falcon" Jovik, Ivan "The Body" Markov and "The Pitbull" Andrei Arlovski

Tamerlan Rasuev def. Alen Khubulov

Ilja Dragunov & ??? def. Bryan Danielson & ???

[ElectricX]

Bill Goldberg def. Aleksandr "Vertigo" Klaptsov

Kris "The Falcon" Jovikdef. "Dirty" Dragan Spazic, Ivan "The Body" Markov, and "The Pitbull" Andrei Arlovski

Alen Khubulov def. Tamerian Rasuev

Ilja Dragunov & ??? def. Bryan Danielson & ???

 

[Just here to look]

Vertigo def Bill Goldberg - OK HEAR ME OUT. Someone asked for you to push him, you said that’d start on card 4. Shenanigans will be in play. I’d say this’d be a good way to push someone, maybe you’ll give them a rematch next week in like a no DQ match or something, who really cares

The Pitbull def The Other Ones- maybe, maybe not. No clue.

Alen Khubilov def Tamerian Ruesuev- no idea 

Bryan Daniels and Bill Goldberg (nobody expects the double booking!) def Ilja Dragonov and the spooky Russian mask guy, you know the one, the one whose mask is plastered all over this brilliant s**tshow?

Edited March 16, 2023 by Just here to look

[knkmaster69]

Bill Goldberg

Andrei Arlovski

Alen Khubulov

Ilja Dragunov and ???. Dragunov's partner is going to be Miro, Daniels' partner is going to be Kane.

[GreatreDRagon]

Goldberg

Andrei Arlovski (via death)

Tamerlan Rasuev (to keep the feud going)

Ilja Dragunov & ??? (I'm guessing Dragunov's partner will be The Nightmare. No idea about Daniels I'll guess a new signing maybe Kota Ibushi)

[Old School Fan]

Bill Goldberg vs Aleksandr "Vertigo" Klaptsov (I suspect that this is going to get rigged so that Goldberg loses, given how RFW's owners feel about the foreign stars)

"Dirty" Dragan Spazic vs Kris "The Falcon" Jovik vs Ivan "The Body" Markov vs "The Pitbull" Andrei Arlovski

Alen Khubulov vs Tamerlan Rasuev

Ilja Dragunov & ??? vs Bryan Daniels & ??? (Dragunov's partner will be Anton "Big Daddy" Deryabin, Daniels will drop a bomb on the audience and introduce WALTER as his surprise partner)

 

Edited March 17, 2023 by Old School Fan

[dstephe4]

 

Russian Federation Of Wrestling TV. Broadcast on Russiya 1. Held in Yekaterinburg City's 'Drama Theatre Volkhonka'. 1148 in attendance. (Colour Commentator Roy Jones Jr was still away in England coaching his boxing protégé Chris Eubank Jr for his fight against Liam Smith. Rico Bushido and Alex Koslov called the shots without him.)

The fourth instalment of our weird little TV show opens with footage from earlier that evening. The crowd goes wild as we see Bryan Daniels arriving at the venue a couple of hours earlier. Things are different this time though. Last week's million dollar Ferrari is gone, replaced by an ex-US Army Humvee. Last week's smile is gone too, replaced with a look of horror. This time it's our own "Party Tsar" Vlad Radinov behind the wheel - presumably the famous American is too traumatised to drive after his run-in with "The Nightmare" Vladimir Kulakov. The Humvee parks up in the spare empty land behind the venue - clearly the plan is to sneak in undetected. "Thanks for the ride. I'm just too spooked out, you know? I should be preparing for my match tonight. I should be working out, getting myself into peak physical condition. Or at the very least I should be signing autographs and giving high-fives to all the cute Russian kids waiting for me round the front of this place. But instead I'm sneaking in the back, on the lookout for some big, crazy b*****d in a hockey mask. I've been in this insane country less than a fortnight and already I can't go to sleep without checking under the bed first. That maniac's got under my skin, big time" said the American Dragon, biting his nails nervously.  "You need to chill out man" said his brightly-shirted driver. "This vehicle weighs about 3 tons. It's covered in Kevlar. I'm pretty sure there's a God-damned bazooka strapped to the roof. There's no way anybody - not even Kulakov - is messing with us in this. You could fend off Godzilla in this thing. An army of ninjas would barely even make a dent, and... AAAAAAAAAGH!!!" Suddenly the windshield explodes into fragments as a massive figure lands on the front of the car. We don't need to see the attacker's face - we know who this is. The sound of animalistic rage is a big enough clue, as is the sound of the 'Party Tsar' crapping his pants. With his monstrous hands, the demented Russian begins ripping bits of metal off the front of this supposedly indestructible vehicle, trying to smash his way through the bulletproof glass. "HOLY CHRIST! DRIVE! JUST DRIVE!!" yells a former WWE champion who was renowned for his bravery until Russia happened to him. Suddenly the Humvee speeds forward, tyres squealing, smoke pouring out of the badly damaged engine, the deranged Russian clinging onto the front like a barnacle. Out of control, the car skids left and right through the empty wasteland behind the venue, until BANG! The crash is huge, instantly destroying the GoPro camera on the front of the car. Both airbags explode into life. A team of medics and a backup camera crew come running to the scene. From our new vantage point we see the Humvee has smashed hard into a concrete barrier. There's smoke and fuel and shredded metal and broken glass everywhere. It's utter carnage. Hurriedly the medics pull Bryan Daniels and the Party Tsar out of the wreckage. After a quick examination is seems both have luckily escaped any major injuries. Both look like they need fresh underpants.  Suddenly attention turns to the monstrous attacker who caused this whole disaster. Surely nobody could have survived such a crash? Surely nothing could walk away from such an impact? But as the attendants search through the rubble, they find the psychotic Russian has long since mysteriously disappeared.   Above: 2 weeks, 2 ridiculously expensive vehicles destroyed. We were on a roll! Angle Rating: 70.     Our show skips forwards to the present, and a shaken, dishevelled Daniels is in the ring and he is not happy. There's still broken glass in his beard. His clothes are ripped to hell. The poor guy looks like he lost a fight with a shark. He demands that Seagal and his band of shirtless proteges, who are ringside, keep the demented Kulakov away from him. "He's a maniac!" screams Daniels. "He's just enthusiastic!" laughs Seagal "I could have been killed! Again!! He won't stop til I'm dead!" shrieks the WWE legend. "Nonsense" says the kimono-wearing man of violence with a smile "he's just encourageable. Re-establish your calm, Bryan. Re-align your Chi to restore your inner peace. Chances are he'll just torture you for a few months, then get bored and move on. You might not even get fully maimed! If you're clever you might even escape with use of all four limbs!" Daniels is about to go into full meltdown mode, but the man who used to slap people for a living artfully changes the subject just in time. "The whole country is talking about your fine display of combat last week against our exemplary Ilja Dragunov. What a shame that your glorious night of violence ended without a clear winner. The public clamour for a rematch, but having studied you both closely, I am certain another battle would result in another draw. You both are so finely, evenly matched. So tonight we mix things up a bit! Tonight's main event shall be a Tag Team attraction - my boy Dragunov will lead one team, the so-called 'American Dragon' shall lead the other. This is an Invitational bout, meaning any member of the RFW roster can join in! Anyone could get involved! And the best part? Neither of you will know who you're teaming with until the opening bell rings!" And with that all memories of last week's floating turd of a main event are forgotten - for now at least. The crowd go wild for this needlessly elaborate setup, as Daniels and Dragunov stare each other down once again.  Angle Rating: 68.   We're about to cut to commercial when suddenly a frenzied Bill Goldberg charges towards the ring like a bull. He runs at Seagal's brood, who scatter for their lives, some of them even hiding under the ring or jumping into the crowd to get away from him. He darts into the ring, grabs a microphone from... somewhere... and shamelessly, noisily steals the scene. He leaps to the top rope like a gazelle, towers over most of the locker room, then reminds our champion Ilja Dragunov that he's only a few wins away from the title. He tells Daniels his days are numbered too. Then he demands Seagal send him the next "victim" in the gauntlet. Seagal is happy to oblige, raising his hand. The long haired, dweeby-looking one known as "Vertigo" proudly steps forward. Our man in charge hypes the crap out of his 'student' Aleksandr Klaptsov, describing his as an elite hacker who has returned from months of protecting Russia's cyber interests from the nation's many, many, many enemies. And now he's back in RFW with Putin's blessing, ready to kick some ass. Goldberg isn't afraid, partly due to him being twice the size of the geeky looking b*****d. Seagal cracks open some weird brightly-coloured energy drink, hands it to his protégé, then signals for the bell. Angle Rating: 63.     Bill Goldberg vs Aleksandr "Vertigo" Klaptsov - Stage 3 Of Goldberg's Gauntlet. Aleksandr Klaptsov was suddenly in the limelight due to our glorious fans. Pictures of the geeky real-life hacker-turned-wrestler wearing a Star Trek visor in public were blazing through our online community. They immediately took to the guy we'd secretly nicknamed "Lord Nerd" and demanded we immediately "put a rocket on his ass and push him to the moon." I hadn't planned on it, but I'm all about making people happy. This push started with him going up against the most destructive force in modern pro wrestling. The crafty little fella had a plan though. Whether it was his natural speed, or whatever was in that funky-looking energy drink, "Vertigo" was super-charged. He flew about that ring like Speedy Gonzalez on crack. He'd land a quick assault, disappear before Goldberg could catch him, then strike again from the blind spot. It was like Lord Nerd was in fast-forward while Old Bill was stuck in slow-mo. I'd even go as far as saying Klaptsov was dominating this match. I really can't think of anyone having this much success against Goldberg since the night of Hall, Nash, Hogan and the Cattle Prod. The tenacious old bear wouldn't give up though, and eventually his determination was rewarded. Finally "Vertigo" slowed just enough for Goldberg to grab his long, flowing hair. The ageing legend then launched his opponent out of the ring like a missile, knocking down a dozen of our roster like skittles. It was carnage. Bodies everywhere. It was glorious. "Take that you speedy little bitch!" screamed Goldberg triumphantly. Klapstov was badly stunned and nearly got counted out, until the rest of Seagal's flock slid him back into the ring... straight into the arms of The Unstoppable Force. Up went the Russian. Down went the Jackhammer. 3 went the count. Goldberg was the winner, but this was possibly the first time in decades anyone had pushed him to the limit like this. Match Rating: 42.   An Urgent Announcement! Our announcers Rico Bushido and Alex Koslov bring our viewers an important update! "Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we hope to unveil the identity of our latest big-name, world-famous signing! At some point during this episode, a HUGE new name will transmit their signed contract to us via the very latest in fax technology! The Russian Federation Of Wrestling claim another international megastar among it's ranks, and you lucky viewers will be the first to learn their identity, live on Russia 1!"     Our next scene involves a large man in a kimono telling off two grown men like they were children. Seagal is upset that Khubulov and Rasuev didn't resolve their differences in last week's tag match - they ended up at each other's throats instead. He reminds them both they're meant to be role models as National Wrestling Championship finalists - they're letting every kid in Russia down by behaving like tits. Seagal says he's putting them in a match-up right now, and their feud had better be resolved by the end of it or else. Angle Rating: 59.         Alen Khubulov (c) vs Tamerlan Rasuev - A Rematch For The RFW National Title As you'd expect from these two, this one was high on impact, low on safety. The two technicians put on a solid display of grappling and chain wrestling, until they remembered how much they hate each other. That's when they began kicking each other's asses for real. Again. Both parts of the match were fun. Khubulov tried his new Lyger Bomb / Pittsburgh Plunge finisher, but was shocked when Rasuev managed to escape - not exactly surprising given he has the exact same signature move.  Rasuev rolled free, swept the legs, then applied a nasty-looking Texas Cloverleaf variant, close to the centre of the ring. He had that one on deep. It took ages for the National Champion to crawl towards the ropes - he was pretty much done by the time 'Boris' the referee signalled for Rasuev to let go. This could've been his moment - by far his best chance to date to finally get one over his hated rival. But the red mist had descended. He refused to let go, and despite Khubulov clearly holding the bottom rope, he put the submission hold on harder and harder. Khubulov screamed. Rasuev laughed like a deranged asshole. Seagal was immediately in the ring, demanding the bout be called off. It was technically a DQ but there were no winners here. It finished with medics checking over the fallen champion, and an enraged student screaming at his disappointed mentor. Match Rating: 49.    Another Urgent Announcement! Our tenacious interviewer 'Party Tsar' Vlad Radinov has apparently recovered from the Humvee-related incident earlier. He is backstage with a smile and a sparkly new velvet jacket, with an important question: "guys, is there any update on the faxed contract yet?! Has the fax machine printed it out yet?! Do we know who our new megastar is?!" Rico Bushido: "nothing yet, but we will inform you the very moment something happens. All we know for sure is that this is a signing so huge, I'm told it could change the face of RFW forever!"   As we came back from commercials, Rasuev was gone, presumably having taken his pissy-fit backstage. Khubulov was on his feet but clearly in pain, still being attended to by the medics and by Seagal, who was now brandishing some neon pink can of something. I don't know what was in that can but it was the sort of colour that only forms for split-seconds in far-away nebulas. Suddenly all hell breaks loose. The fans are on their feet. "The Pitbull" Andrei Arlovski charges to the ring. He means business. He has his angry face on. He grabs the mic. Shouting happens. Much waving of hands. Angry close-ups. You've all seen this sort of stuff before. The gist is that as a former UFC Heavyweight Champion, he feels deserving of at least a National Title shot.  Seagal admits he was impressive in winning last week's tag match, and points out that Arlovski did indeed pin the National Champion. He argues there's others who've also been impressive though. Ivan Markov, who was Arlovski's tag partner in that match, is also just as deserving. Dragan Spazic almost beat Goldberg last week. Kris Jokic came close in his last National title shot, and fans have been urging for a rematch ever since. Seagal says they all deserve a chance, so announces a 4 Way Dance right now - winner is the #1 Contender! Angle Rating: 58.            "Dirty" Dragan Spazic vs Kris "The Falcon" Jokic vs Ivan "The Body" Markov vs "The Pitbull" Andrei Arlovski - Winner Is #1 Contender For The RFW National Title Look, Seagal can do his best to hype up the other guys all he likes, but there was only ever going to be one winner here. Bodybuilder Ivan "The Body" Markov got moments to show off his impressive strength. "The Falcon" Kris Jokic was able to showcase some decent high-flying stuff. "Dirty" Dragan Spazic had some luck with a Ric-Flair-esque 'Dirtiest Player In The Game' schtick for a while. But it was with a fun, joyous, violent inevitability that "The Pitbull" Arlovski ripped through his opponents like a... Pitbull. Sure he's not very good at wrestling per se, but he looks really good when smashing people into little tiny bits, and the fans like that about him. He put Spazic in a Rear Naked Choke until the poor b*****d fainted, then covered him for a casual 3-count. The new #1 Contender for the RFW National Title screamed in adrenaline-fuelled delight as his arm was raised. Khubulov, still surrounded by medics, watched with a pained, worried expression from ringside. Seagal looked concerned too. (Or constipated. It's hard to tell on a face that lumpy and leathery.) Even Rasuev, who'd caught the end of the match from the top of the ramp, looked like he'd seen a ghost.  Match Rating: 43.      Yet Another Urgent Announcement! Proceedings are brought to a sudden halt. The fax machine suddenly whirs and groans into life. The wretched thing shudders and splutters into action. "It's here! The contract is coming through! It's printing now, right here in front of us all! Within just a few minutes we will know the name of the legendary new wrestler who will etch their names into Russian wrestling history!" Almost 2 minutes go by, after which point we are barely at a quarter of a page. The tension is unbearable as over a thousand half-drunken Russians watch a fax machine printing with a mixture of awe, suspense and wonder. You could cut the atmosphere with a knife. 3 minutes now. Perhaps 30% of the page is printed. Suddenly the machine pauses; "receiving transmission, please wait" is the message on the screen. Breathlessly we all wait for something to happen, until... thankfully this bizarre scene is interrupted in the best way possible... with the promise of violence.     We cut back to the wrestling. The ref is still trying to clear the ring for our main event, but Arlovski refuses to budge. 'Boris' decides not to argue with him, and who could blame him?! Seagal reminds us all of the stipulation - it's Bryan Daniels heading up one team, RFW World Champ Ilja Dragunov leading the other. The two empty slots can be taken by any member of the roster. The fans are clearly excited to find out who'll choose to team with who.  The excitement reaches fever pitch as Daniels comes to the ring. Gone is the spring in his step and the smile on his face. He's still s***ting kittens after the Humvee disaster earlier. You can hear the uncertainty in his voice as he asks for his mystery partner to reveal themselves. "Who on the roster will have the great honour of fighting beside..." he is interrupted as a loud, pumped-up voice thunders "ME!" It's Arlovski. He wants in. "But you already fought 3 guys! Your match only just finished! You must be crazy to..." he's interrupted again. "ME!" bellows the UFC Icon again. Daniels shrugs and just lives with it. Angle Rating: 66.      Wait! Stop Everything! There's Another Super-Important Announcement! Suddenly we're backstage again. The 'Party Tsar' is ready to bring us a newsflash: "Rico and Alex, I'm told there's an update on the faxed contract of this huge new megastar?!" Alex Koslov: "Exciting times, Vladimir! The fax machine has started printing it's message again! We are now a little over half way through printing the page!" Rico Bushido: "That's right Alex! So long as this is just a one page contract, it may well have printed just in time for us to know the superstar's identity before the end of tonight's broadcast! We will keep you posted! Nothing will stop us from keeping you - and indeed the whole wrestling world - informed!"     We cut rapidly back to the ring. Loud, patriotic, awesome-sounding music fills the air. Smoke. Lasers. Pyros. It's our World Champion Ilja Dragunov. He struts to the ring and gets right in the faces of Daniels and Arlovski. He's not afraid, despite squaring up to perhaps the two most lethal fighters in RFW (though, to be fair, that's not saying a lot.) We find out the reason for his brazen confidence when he raises his arm in the air like a signal. Suddenly the lights go out. Barely a second later they're back on, and "The Nightmare" Vladimir Kulakov has appeared in the ring like a f*****g poltergeist. Half the fans crap their pants, the others cheer their hearts out. Daniels almost leaps out of the ring in fright.  What were you readers expecting from us?! Out-of-the-box thinking? Inventiveness? Imagination? Of course it was Kulakov! 'Ding ding' and we begin. Angle Rating: 67.           "American Dragon" Bryan Daniels & "The Pitbull" Andrei Arlovski vs Ilja Dragunov & "The Nightmare" Vladimir Kulakov This one was fun. We kept this to a traditional Tag Team format, with everyone being well behaved and waiting to be tagged in. Even the monster Kulakov waited patiently for his turn to maim people. Arlovski was big on heat, low on talent, high on energy, low on variety. His UFC-inspired 'ground and pound' style was fun, but to say this guy's limited in the ring would be an understatement. He had nice moments with our champ Dragunov who was big on talent but low on popularity - which isn't ideal for the guy who's supposedly the face of the company. But then the tag was made to Daniels and the crowd suddenly exploded with excitement. Our expensive, bearded American was ready to kick some serious ass, until Ilja tagged in 'The Nightmare'. As the masked Russian stormed into the ring, Daniels turned white, shrieked and leapt out of the ring like someone'd thrown a grenade in there. It was impressive; he cleared all 3 ropes with a backwards somersault and nearly landed in the crowd, such was his desire to escape his murderous nemesis. And so went the match, with Kulakov desperate to get involved, wanting to get his hands on Daniels so badly, only for Bryan to run for his life every time. It's amazing what a couple of near-death experiences can do to a guy. Every time Kulakov would tag in, Daniels would literally leap the entire length of the ring to tag out. It was a brilliant sight to behold. Eventually the appetites of 'The Pitbull' and 'The Nightmare' to maim, crush and destroy could no longer be contained. A fun, miniature war broke out between the two that had shades of Tommy Dreamer and The Sandman's wars in ECW - and I mean that as a compliment. Things were very even between the two, with both beasts taking (and dishing out) huge amounts of damage, but neither man backing down. It was too close to call, as both men began to tire, the efforts of their destruction having overmatched their stamina. It was no wonder Arlovski was tiring, having had two intense matches back-to-back. Kulakov has tiring too - venomous hatred burns up a lot of energy I guess. He was clearly breathing heavily - you could tell even through his mask - and turned his back and started walking towards his partner Dragunov, about to make the tag. It was at that exact moment that Daniels blind-tagged himself in, slid in behind Kulakov like some sort of crafty Yank ninja, and hit the sneakiest Small Package pin I've ever seen. 'Boris' did the count - perhaps a little quickly - and the surprised Russian fell victim to a truly shocking Flash Pinfall. I almost admired the sheer bastardry of it. It was an almost Ric-Flair-esque level of dastardliness. It was easy to forgive him though, given he'd single-handedly carried the whole main event by himself. Kulakov was furious, pushing 'The American Dragon' off him and rushing in for the kill. Daniels bravely threw our terrified referee at his charging foe, escaping while the two collided. Our poor official ate a huge Chokeslam while Daniels disappeared into thin air. Medics, security and half of the RFW roster ran into the ring to try and calm things down, but immediately ran away again when the crazed Russian lunatic charged at them. It was only when Goldberg strolled into the ring that sanity was finally restored. Daniels had craftily pulled off the win, but everybody knew there would be hell to pay. Match Rating: 58.     After the main event, Goldberg confronts Dragunov, tells him it's only a matter of time before the belt is around the waist of a "real" champion. "You're just keeping the belt warm for me. So look after it well. Polish it up good. Because I'm gonna defeat the the next name on the Gauntlet next week, and it won't be long until you're next! Then this federation will have a real champion!" Dragunov's heard enough. A wild brawl breaks out. Heads are banged into ring posts. Bodies are thrown into guardrails. Goldberg is backdropped onto the metal ring steps. Dragunov is suplexed onto the floor. The fans pitch in, excitedly (and somewhat drunkenly) offering up their own items to be used in the name of weaponised sports entertainment. Dragunov gets whacked with a walking stick. Goldberg gets pelted with a shoe. The two brawl towards the commentary table, neither backing down. Suddenly commentator Alex Koslov begins squealing like a giddy child. "It's finally coming! It's nearly here! The fax is almost completely printed! We're nearly at the bit of the contract with the new superstar's name! It's... it's...!!!" Suddenly a massive, muscular hand scoops up the fax machine and hoists it into the air. The fax machine comes crashing down onto a hard Russian skull. It explodes into a cacophony of plastic, dust clouds and circuit boards. "NOOOOOOO!" screams Koslov, his voice shaking with woe. "It's dead! It's deeeeeeaaad!" Our grief-stricken commentator pounds his fists on the table in frustration. "Goldberg! You fool! Now we won't know who the new signing is! You... you..." The retired former wrestler Alex Koslov rips off his big, furry Russian hat in a fury and throws it at the former WWE and WCW champion. Enraged, he leaps to his feet, grabs the phone receiver from the wrecked fax machine, and clocks Goldberg right between the eyes with it! A satisfying 'clunk' echoes through the venue. The fans fall silent as a huge purple bruise suddenly appears between Goldberg's eyes, making him look like some sort of bizarre cyclops.  Suddenly Dragunov - who is still on the floor having had a whole fax machine smashed on his head - is forgotten about. A furious Goldberg grabs Koslov, lifts him high into the air, then Jackhammers him through his own announcer's table! The once-silent crowd suddenly roar their approval. "We love wrestling! We love wrestling!" the fans sing in joyful unison as an army of security guards rush in to contain Goldberg.  Our show ends with ovation, cheers, exploded furniture, smashed circuitry, a groggy Russian and an unconcious Maldovan. Now that's entertainment. Angle Rating: 67.      Overall Show Rating: 60.

Edited Wednesday at 01:23 PM by dstephe4

[MidKnightDreary]

Aww man, wish I hadn't been away so I could have predicted

[dstephe4]

 

Thank you to all who made predictions, and to those who 'liked' the show.  Here's the results of our first ever Predictions thingy...     @DinoKea 1 points @ElectricX 2 points. @Just here to look 3 points + 1 bonus = 4 points. @knkmaster69 3 points. @GreatreDRagon 2 points + 1 bonus = 3 points. @Old School Fan 3 points.     The prize: @Just here to look got the most points, so gets to choose any member of the RFW roster to receive a Mega Push. Here's what there is to choose from...     This is the current active roster in alphabetical order. Click on a name to see their skills. The number (in brackets) after their name is their current overness in Russia.    Aleksander 'Vertigo' Klapstov (29)  |  Alen Khubulov (52)  |  Alexei Urgumov (27)  |  Andrei 'The Pitbull' Arlovski (60)  |  Anton Deryabin (37)  |  Bence Toth (4)  |  Bill Goldberg (78)  |  Bryan Daniels (79)  |  Dover (5)  |  'Dirty' Dragan Spazic (30)  |  Kriss 'Icarus' A´ron (7)  |  Ilja Dragunov (37)  |  Ilya Malkin (28)  |  Ivan 'The Body' Markov (37)  |  Kris 'The Falcon' Jokic (36)  |  Petr Tihanyi (2)  |  Ronni Krimson (26)  |  Sasa Keel (22)  |  Sergey Belyev (32)  |  Tamerlan Rasuev (48)  |  Vladimir 'The Nightmare' Kulakov (38)   Ever wonder why my match ratings are so low? See above lol     All that remains now is for our winner to pick who should receive this massive push? Will you choose to keep it a secret? (If so, message me.) Or will you share your choice with our readers? (If so, reply with your chosen wrestler).     Thank you to everybody for reading. Coming soon is a behind-the-scenes piece which has a picture of a big, red tractor in it. Then I'll post the card for Episode 5 and the Predictions game begins anew...

 

Edited March 22, 2023 by dstephe4

[ElectricX]

Episode 4 was a good show. Interesting to see who the new signing is.

[dstephe4]

 

There was an atmosphere of quiet celebration after Episode 4 went off-air. Yekaterinburg City is one of the biggest cities in Russia, but there's a good reason nobody's ever heard of it - because nothing ever happens there. At all. Ever. Our crappy little circus rolling into town was a really big deal. The Mayor had insisted on throwing a gala for us at the old potato factory which now served as their city hall. As we happily drank their potent, locally-brewed vodka, the Mayor excitedly told us this was the biggest, most memorable night of his long career. "It even beats the legendary Annual Large Tractor Show we hosted here. People still talk excitedly of the fateful night of November 11th 2021, when the 583hp Rostselmash tractor was unveiled here, in our humble city, a world first! But I dare say, Mr American, that your show eclipses even that." "Firstly, I'm British, not American. And secondly, thank you for your kind words and your warm welcome. Having our fledgling promotion spoken of in the same sentence as a really big, red piece of farming equipment really makes all our hard work worthwhile. We couldn't wait to bring our show to Yekaterinburg, and absolutely did not just pick this city at random by closing our eyes and pointing at a map. Also, I've never drank vodka as thick and as warm as this before. The lumpy, starchy texture really makes it a unique drinking experience." Despite my absolute lack of sincerity, the Mayor was delighted with my words, and immediately pulled me in for a big, jovial, torso-crushing hug. Local journalists dived on the moment like piranhas. That cringey photo of us from the front page of the Oblastnaia Gazeta would hang proudly on the city hall wall long after Putin was ancient history.     Above: To be fair, that is one sexy tractor. Just look at the tracks on that thing. Sweeeeeet. My voice became even less sincere when I heard a loud, unwelcome, familiar voice. "American!" boomed a surprisingly jovial Oleg Matytsin. Perhaps he'd been on the vodka too. "Oleg! Hi! So glad you could make it! I didn't invite you, but you showed up anyway, what a wonderful and glorious surprise!" My almost hateful level of sarcasm was fortunately lost on the big, half-cut, gangly b*****d. He had his arm around Steven Seagal, which really was a surprise however. "First, I am a solver of your problems! Your missing colour commentator Roy Jones Jr has been found and has been forcibly returned to our fine Motherland. He apologises for not coming back after his protégé Chris Eubank Jr fought in England. He insisted I tell you that he was not at all fleeing the country, and that he is delighted to be part of The Russian Federation Of Wrestling once again." "Erm... thank you" I said, unsure of how to respond. I hadn't reported him missing. To be honest, I'd completely forgotten he was gone. "And now you will do a favour for me! Tat for tit. Quid pro quo, da?" My smile died on my face like it'd been mauled by a bear, leaving the corpse of a frown in its wake. "A favour? Do I have a choice?" I sighed. "Absolutely not" beamed my slightly loaded Russian overlord. Our fine, excellent Russian friend Steven here is re-launching his energy drink, this time featuring more potent, domestically-sourced ingredients. Just like comrade Seagal, the Lightning Bolt Energy Drinks shall be a splendid product of the New Russia!" I studied Seagal's poker-face for a reaction. I got nothing. Finally I realised I should stop staring at the guy before he went Full Akido on my Limey arse and cut me in half with a Karate chop. "A clever move" I mused, "the people won't have chance to think about the 'Special Operation' in Ukraine if their brains are scrambled to bits by super-strength energy drinks" I said. "Exactly!" cheered Oleg, slapping me across the back enthusiastically with enough force to pop a lung. "The masses can't protest in the streets if they're climbing their walls, hopped up to the tits on Red Bull" I added. "Red Bull is canned piss!" Interjected Seagal in a rare show of emotion. "I have travelled the world creating this drink; there is none better that I know," he said with a vocal thrust that made my arse-cheeks clench shut like a bear-trap. "I have included in this drink everything I could to strengthen the body." He reached deep into the inner folds of his Kimono, producing a neon-pink can that was so bright it made my retinas vibrate. "It is lightning in a can!" Seagal's menacing face was right there on the front, staring at us as if to say "how does it feel to know you're about to die?" He thrust the can towards me with a strength few mortals possess. Valuing my life and my limbs, I obediently cracked it open and took a sip. "That's..." I began to say, sloshing the bizarre liquid around my mouth some more. "That's really not bad actually" I said with genuine shock. Yes the stuff looked like it'd been scraped from inside an exploding nuclear reactor, but it was surprisingly drinkable. Addictively drinkable even. The big man in the Chinese dress purred with delight. "This is the real deal, Kohai. Not that Taurine-scented toilet-water Red Bull sell. Have some more. Tell me what you think." The first gulp had been taken out of mortal fear. The next mouthful was motivated by a bona fide curiosity. "There's a lot of flavours going on here. It's like a Royal Rumble in my mouth. I'm getting... Goji Berry?" Seagal nodded, clearly impressed. He gestured for me to continue. "I'm tasting... Natural Root Ginger." I said enthusiastically. RFW's Sensei was pleased. "There's a hint of... is that Ginseng?" A glowing smile hung from his big, round face. "And... what's that other flavour? Unfamiliar. I've not tasted anything like that before?"  "Steroids" smiled Seagal. "Oh?!" I said in shock, trying not to let my sudden panic show on my face. I stared at the can in disbelief. "What kind of Steroids?" I asked, because what the hell do you say to something like that? "All of them. This wonderful new drink combines every Steroid derivative known to man, and fourteen new ones designed exclusively here in Russia. When I first launched these drinks I used Nutraceuticals and Asian Cordyceps - some of the rarest and treasured botanicals used in Chinese and Tibetan medicine for thousands of years. Unfortunately that stuff wasn't very effective, was really expensive, and tasted a lot like ass. Steroids are much better."     Above: About as 'natural' as a unicorn s***ting hand grenades.   I'd inhaled about 80% of the can by that stage and was genuinely fearing for my life. My piss was bright green for nearly a month afterwards. And fizzy too. It's medically impossible for piss to be fizzy, but mine was. Oleg was also full of pride at this toxic new range of beverages. "These superb drinks shall be in every store in Russia by tomorrow morning. You shall feature and promote these drinks in every show. Already they have been sampled by most of your roster, with great enthusiasm. We shall ensure every RFW wrestler has an infinite supply!" With that, Seagal seemed happy enough and strode off to have his photo taken with the Mayor, ensuring a can of "Asian Experience" flavour Lightning Bolt energy drink could clearly be seen in the picture. With our lethal drinks salesman out of the way, Oleg took me to one side to talk man-to-man. He'd sobered up a bit by now. You could tell because the joy had gone from his words. He was back into Funeral Face mode again. "American!" he began with his traditional opening gambit. "For Christ sake I'm British" was my well-worn response. "Whatever. I must ask one further favour from you also. No, actually. Not a favour. A demand. Your shows have been rather... Hollywood lately. This is not The Fast And The Furious! This is a proper wrestling show! For the family! It is to be a presentation of manly, masculine combat, not the turbo-charged freak show you have allowed it to become. We set up the Russian Federation Of Wrestling to be a beacon of traditional, wholesome values. Instead you have destructive car chases in million dollar Ferraris! Ridiculous American Humvees crashing into walls! Men being smashed through tables! Expensive State-Provisioned telecommunications equipment being destroyed on men's skulls! What is wrong with you, Comrade?! People are starting to ask questions - important people - people you really do not want in your life, American. What is the matter with you?! I feel like slapping you!" He paused for breath, gathered himself momentarily, then his magnificent tirade continued. "My superiors have noticed the dangerous direction in which you have taken things, little American. They are not happy. I am not happy. They suggested that I have my men throw you through a few windows until the impact of the broken glass knocks some sensibility back into your brain. But I assured them that you are already a sensible man. A reasonable man, who is clever enough to listen to a warning. You have always appeared to me as one who enjoys life, comrade. What a shame it would be if that life were to very suddenly end." His words were delivered with all the subtlety of a Napalm strike. But they were effective nonetheless. I was listening. "The next episode of The Russian Federation Of Wrestling shall restore the balance, and restore the patriotic national values to the forefront. The next show will be a sensible one, comrade. No ridiculous stunts. No car crashes. No cutting-edge hi-tech communications equipment bashed over patriotic skulls. Just a proper, wholesome wrestling show. I know you will not let me down, American. I know you will book this next episode like your life depends on it - because it does!" He turned and walked away, leaving me to my own frightened thoughts. Being a fledgling wrestling promoter can be a real kick in the dick sometimes. The dangerous Konstantin Ernst and his crooks at Russiya 1 would not be happy about this. The guys in the locker-room wouldn't like it either.  But hey, at least none of them would be thirsty, I guess.

Edited June 17, 2023 by dstephe4

[Just here to look]

11 minutes ago, dstephe4 said:

 

Above: To be fair, that is one sexy tractor. Just look at the tracks on that thing. Sweeeeeet.

I have to agree. That man has reason to be proud, that tractor looks brilliant!

Anyways, onto more important (though less massive tractor-y) topics, this is still really, and I mean REALLY funny. You can tell I think that because I used italics, bold, underline, and even caps lock. Steven’s energy drink that might as well be brewed in Chernobyl, nobody noticing the sarcasm, and the sheer absurdity of this is what makes this true gold. 

In terms of what this means for the actual product, less car flipping bull**** is unfortunate, but it wasn’t unexpected. How do you decide on this stuff anyways? Do you just do what you think would be more fun, or do you have something like a spinny wheel of Russian interference which decides what ruins your life and when?

And last, but the opposite of least, I AM A GOD OF PREDICTION! (time to be egotistical for no reason other than I just think it’s a laugh.) I shall not tell you whomst I’ve decided to push, but I can tell you that they are an unexpected pick, for reasons I shall not mention because you’d probably be able to figure it out! I don’t want you to figure it out! It’ll be funnier if you don’t figure it out! So don’t figure it out! what the hell am I on about anymore You understand? I don’t.

[MidKnightDreary]

Oh my god, the drink is real...

[ElectricX]

This is great lol

[knkmaster69]

I literally don't have words. The sheer amount of creativity on display is insane, it's a car crash in written form and i love it.

[Old School Fan]

On 3/22/2023 at 2:15 PM, Just here to look said:

Above: To be fair, that is one sexy tractor. Just look at the tracks on that thing. Sweeeeeet.

Now, what's making me suspect that the tractor might end up getting trashed like the luxury rental car was?  😏

[dstephe4]

On 3/21/2023 at 12:53 AM, ElectricX said:

Episode 4 was a good show. Interesting to see who the new signing is.

I will say this... this really is a 'big name' signing. The commentators were right to get excited. 
 

On 3/22/2023 at 9:15 PM, Just here to look said:

I have to agree. That man has reason to be proud, that tractor looks brilliant!

Anyways, onto more important (though less massive tractor-y) topics, this is still really, and I mean REALLY funny. You can tell I think that because I used italics, bold, underline, and even caps lock. Steven’s energy drink that might as well be brewed in Chernobyl, nobody noticing the sarcasm, and the sheer absurdity of this is what makes this true gold. 

In terms of what this means for the actual product, less car flipping bull**** is unfortunate, but it wasn’t unexpected. How do you decide on this stuff anyways? Do you just do what you think would be more fun, or do you have something like a spinny wheel of Russian interference which decides what ruins your life and when?

And last, but the opposite of least, I AM A GOD OF PREDICTION! (time to be egotistical for no reason other than I just think it’s a laugh.) I shall not tell you whomst I’ve decided to push, but I can tell you that they are an unexpected pick, for reasons I shall not mention because you’d probably be able to figure it out! I don’t want you to figure it out! It’ll be funnier if you don’t figure it out! So don’t figure it out! what the hell am I on about anymore You understand? I don’t.

Am I right in saying this is the first dynasty in Grey Dog Software history to prominently throw a big, red tractor into proceedings? This is history in the making, right here.

How do I decide on this stuff? Basically there's a topic constantly in my brain called "what mad s*** can I throw at it this week?" If there were no limits on what you could do with a show, what would you have happening? That's the basis for all this. Forget what the rest of the wrestling world is doing - the emphasis is very much on going crazy and having fun.

And yes, you are indeed the one to beat now when it comes to predictions. Will you be able to keep the success going through Episode 5 as well? I'll be posting the card in a day or two. Or three.

 

On 3/22/2023 at 9:15 PM, MidKnightDreary said:

Oh my god, the drink is real...

It is indeed real. I think it was first unleashed upon the world in about 2006 or 2008 or something. Some of the stuff Seagal says about his drink in my post are lifted directly from the drink's original press releases. It does indeed seem that the drink is again poisoning the world in 2022-23 too, through I haven't seen it in any stores here in the UK.

Would I be brave enough to drink it, if it were?

 

On 3/23/2023 at 1:10 AM, ElectricX said:

This is great lol

Thank you! Like I said, thank you for returning to the forum just to read the mad, silly crap I'm posting. It means the world to me that people are enjoying this so much, and it's fuelling me to keep going with this. I have stuff planned roughly as far as Episode 6 now, but am leaving it wide open, as you people can have a HUGE influence on proceedings through the Predictions thing we've started.

 

On 3/23/2023 at 5:10 AM, knkmaster69 said:

I literally don't have words. The sheer amount of creativity on display is insane, it's a car crash in written form and i love it.

Awww shucks. You're too kind. Thank you so very much for saying that.

There's plenty more of this weird, mad s*** in the pipeline too. The post that follows Episode 5, leading into Episode 6 is particularly... erm... yeah... different. That one literally came to me in a dream, and I woke up and wouldn't let myself go to sleep again until I'd written it all down. I'll put the fragments together for you all once Episode 5 is up, which will be next week some time.

 

On 3/23/2023 at 10:31 PM, Old School Fan said:

Now, what's making me suspect that the tractor might end up getting trashed like the luxury rental car was?  😏

I can see why you'd say that, given our track record so far. I can neither confirm, nor deny. However, Oleg and his hired goons will be FURIOUS unless Episode 5 is completely, totally Serious and Sensible. Let's see what happens...

 

---

 

You people are all awesome. Thank you so much for the nice comments, the 'likes' and reactions. Please keep on reading. The card of Episode 5 will be posted soon, then the show itself shortly after - prepare yourselves for what will certainly be a beacon of sensibility, just as Oleg and the Russian Ministry instructed.

Oh, finally, the more eagle-eyed among you may have realised that every one of the first 4 shows scored a 60. That wasn't a mistake or a copying error or anything - we really have scored 60 time after time after time. We're nothing if not consistent. For Episode 5 we're dreaming BIG and pushing for a 61!

Edited March 25, 2023 by dstephe4

[dstephe4]

 

And so we move on to the second Russian Federation Of Wrestling... Predictions... Thing. I need a better name for this, and am open to suggestions. Here's the card for Episode 5:     Tamerlan Rasuev vs Vladimir 'The Nightmare' Kulakov Last week Rasuev shared the ring with his long-time nemesis Khubulov, and in a moment of fury ended up getting DQ'd when he wouldn't release his submission - choosing to inflict pain rather than seek victory. Our eminent Authority Figure Steven Seagal has decided that penance is required for injuring our National Champion. The punishment? Having to share the ring with 'The Nightmare' Vladimir Kulakov.     Bill Goldberg vs Ivan 'The Body' Markov Stage 4 of the Goldberg Gauntlet sees him face Bodybuilder and all-round strength machine Ivan Markov. Also known as 'The Locomotive' for his ridiculous stamina and endless strength, Markov is a huge physical specimen and will test Goldberg like few others ever have before. Goldberg is edging closer to his long-awaited World Title shot, but has a big obstacle in his way first.     'American Dragon' Bryan Daniels vs 'The Pitbull' Andrei Arlovski vs ??? A 3 way #1 Contenders match - winner faces our Word Champion Ilja Dragunov, who will be watching this one with interest. Daniels and Arlovski won last week's tag team main event, earning them this opportunity - but the big question is - who is the mysterious big name signing? Who will be the next superstar to join RFW and face these two contenders?   As previous, there's 1 point for each correct prediction, and 1 bonus point for correctly guessing the name of our new signing. Good luck!     The prize: The winner gets to choose the stipulation for next week's main event. What kind of match will Dragunov defend his World Title in? One of you will get to decide!     Here's a reminder of our current roster and their skills. You don't really need this, and it won't really help you at all, but it took ages to prepare this, so I'm just leaving it here for the hell of it.   Aleksander 'Vertigo' Klapstov (29)  |  Alen Khubulov (52)  |  Alexei Urgumov (27)  |  Andrei 'The Pitbull' Arlovski (60)  |  Anton Deryabin (37)  |  Bence Toth (4)  |  Bill Goldberg (78)  |  Bryan Daniels (79)  |  Dover (5)  |  'Dirty' Dragan Spazic (30)  |  Kriss 'Icarus' A´ron (7)  |  Ilja Dragunov (37)  |  Ilya Malkin (28)  |  Ivan 'The Body' Markov (37)  |  Kris 'The Falcon' Jokic (36)  |  Petr Tihanyi (2)  |  Ronni Krimson (26)  |  Sasa Keel (22)  |  Sergey Belyev (32)  |  Tamerlan Rasuev (48)  |  Vladimir 'The Nightmare' Kulakov (38)       Thank you to everybody for reading and being continuously awesome. Much love to you all.

 

Edited March 27, 2023 by dstephe4