A glance at the Steam reviews of Wrestling Empire gives you a sense of how weird it is. In my case, it start seven before the game begins. I try the training mode to get a sense of how the game plays: wrestling titles are often notoriously complex, and Wrestling Empire is especially esoteric and emergent. Now, it’s important you understand that this is the tutorial: literally the most staid, functional mode a game has. But, after less than a minute of sparring with my tutor, Coach Emerson, another wrestler charges in to join the fray. The invading superstar, Woodrow, insists that he “should be the main event at every event”, conveniently ignoring the fact that said event is taking place in an empty arena. What should have been a sedate introduction becomes a bloody triple threat match. I learn nothing except that Wrestling Empire does not give one solitary damn about the rules. Even the training modes here are dangerous.
That feels like a fat block of text before we even get to character creation, but that’s where we live now. If was a PC Gamer feature another writer would have already interrupted this piece, perhaps rightly, to years ago. There’s a chance that you’d be in danger of taking a rogue chairshot just by reading this. And this is why the game is so good at capturing the most deranged aspects of sports entertainment: the WWE once featured a backstage skit in which Mae Young, a septuagenarian pioneer of women’s wrestling, gave birth to a human hand. Anything can be a gimmick. Nothing is sacred.
