Let’s say you’ve mysteriously become all buff and muscled, and suddenly have a lucrative contract with one of the many Wrestling franchises which are the veritable bread and butter of Pay-Per-View TV.
What Persona would you adopt, and what would your Signature Move be?
I’d be The Explorer. Dressed like a Safari Hunter, I’d throw out dry witticisms with which to taunt my opponents, and My Signature Move would be The Ravine Crosser. I’d climb up on the corner posts, grab the microphone that hangs from the ceiling, and swing across the ring, kicking my opponent to the ground as a I did so.
So, “Llllllllllleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeet’s get ready to Ruuuuuuuuuumbllllllleeee!”
As a chessplayer, I have a slightly different take on this:
I’d be called the Professor. I’d wear glasses and a suit.
My signature move would be to leap out the ring and run away, leading to a chase all around the arena. :eek:
I’d be Mister Punch. My signature move would be to thwap my adversary upside the head with a cudgel, frantically squeaking “That’s the way to do it! That’s the way to do it!”.
I don’t have one for myself, but my BF does. He would be Superstar Boy. (possibly as Boi, I hate when people spell it that way), in a lot of metallic colors, sparkly, glittery etc.
His signature move is called the Attitude Adjuster, it’s an arm submission.
Madd Maxx is my wrestling name. My signature move would be called Maxximum Punishment, where I basically choke your sorry ass out. No, I wouldn’t wear tights.
My old improv troupe does a long form improvised wrestling serial. We all have multiple wrestling roles, some bizarre (Squidbo, a boy with a squid for a head) to more standard wrestling fare (the Sweet Talkin’ Sugar Boyz; Sweet Tooth and Pure Cane). My favorite character was the feds champ The Great Inverter (a mix between Hogan and Sting) whose finisher was ‘The Great Inversion’. I spun the opponent around, push them over, they would kick up their legs and I would cath them (imagine doing the wheel barrow) and then after asking the crowd if they wanted to see me finish them off, I’d kick them in the ‘bread basket’ for the pin.
My characters are all retired now- I moved away but when I am back in the area I come back to do shows.
Anouncer A: Regallag the Human Hatchet is getting ready to pull his signature move, the Big Chopper. He’s climbing up into the ropes and– Anouncer B:OH! The opponent is down… and decapitated… well… this is getting messsy…
I’d be The Tusker, a deranged human/feral pig hybrid. I’d have big fake tusks jutting out of my lower jaw and a prosthetic curly tail. And covered with bristles, none of this shaved and oiled look for me.
My signature move would the The Eviscerator, where I used my tusks to rip open the abdominal cavity of my opponents, then I’d choke them to death with their own intestines.
Well, lets’ see…I’m on the low end of average height, and those guys are usually 73 feet tall. Therefore, I need something that reflects meaness in a small package, something like a badger! Yeah! Jack Badger, that’s me! And my signature move will be the NKB - Nuclear Knee Biter. Biting, I assume, is patently illegal so I’ll only be able to apply my signature move while my large breasted female manager/trainer/love interest distracts the referee with a couple of the finer points of the, uhm, rules.
I’ve always envisioned myself-as-a-wrestler as a midcard bit player, sort of a cross between Boring Lance Storm, Clone High USA’s George Washington Carver, and pre-character-development Kurt Angle. On the mic, I’d be serious and boring, and I’d mostly function as a straight man for other characters, but I’d have the insufferable amateur-tecnico style down. As a result, my sig move would have to be something unexplosive and merely efficient, like a Peterson Roll.
I’d be Joe Green, but the Ring Announcers and everyone else would refer to me as Mean Joe Green, or just Mean Joe. My persona would be one of cruelty and maliciousness. I wouldn’t have a signature move per se, more like a signature method: I would do anything to inflict pain and suffering upon my opponant. I wouldn’t even go into the ring to win matches; I’d just be there to cause mayhem and humiliate my opponant(s). And I’d be every bit as hostile and dangerous outside the ring, with a rap sheet a mile long of barroom brawls and so on.
In other words, I’d be the bad guy’s bad guy. I’d be universally hated for my underhanded ways and sucker punches, but I’d be enormously popular because I’d be completely unpredictable, routinely attacking spectaters, announcers, and etc. The running gag with my character would that I’d be unable to find tag-team partners because all the wrestlers hated me so much, but on rare occassions a wrestler would team up with me for an important match, like the Wrestlemania Tag Team Title, but a few minutes into the match the subterfuge would evaporate and I’d get duped; my supposed “partner” would fall in with the other team to thrash me. Or on other occassions, instead of tagging out, I’d attack my partner, and end up fighting all three anyhow. The variations are almost limitless, and the WWE is so welcoming to heels that I’d sell more tee shirts than the Macho Man Randy Savage and Rowdy Roddy Piper did put together.
