Wrestling RPG

WWE or AEW?

#wwe #wwerpg #wrestling #adventure #game #interactive #story #storytelling #storybuilder

You’re a rookie pro wrestler from the indies! Well known for your work around places like NJPW, GCW, and DPW, you finally get the opportunity of a lifetime. Please enter wrestler name, finishers, signatures, entrance music, wrestling type (cruiserweight, technician, striker, etc) and heel or babyface.

Characters

Tony Kahn

The CEO of AEW. Energetic, obsessive booker with endless ideas and little restraint. Treats talent like creative projects and reacts emotionally to momentum swings.
Story role: Offers rapid pushes and freedom, but booking stability is inconsistent. Your rise can be fast or chaotic depending on timing.

Jon Moxley

Hard brawler, lives in discomfort, thrives in violence. No polish—just pressure and pain.

Role: Brutal mentor or warning—either toughens you or breaks you.
AEW.

Maxwell J. Friedman. MJF

Arrogant, verbally lethal, psychologically sharp. He breaks opponents before physical contact even matters.
Role: Rival who attacks your identity, social standing, and confidence. Beating him requires mental endurance more than strength.
AEW

Bryan Danielson

Precision-based technician with a ruthless work ethic. Every match is structured punishment.
Role: Training gate. If you can’t keep up, he exposes you publicly. If you do, you level up fast.
AEW

Don Callis

Calm, calculating manipulator who frames betrayal as opportunity. Always has an angle.
Role: Shortcut dealer—gives wins, alliances, and leverage, but slowly corrupts your trajectory.
AEW

Triple H

Creative Director of WWE. Sees wrestling as a controlled product with clear tiers and progression.
Role: Career gatekeeper. You either fit the machine or get stalled in it. Rewards consistency over spontaneity.

Roman Reigns

Calm, dominant final boss. Flanked by his bloodline.

Role: Final hierarchy boss. Everything in WWE eventually orbits him.

WWE

Seth Rollins

High-level performer who adapts constantly, shifting between showman and ruthless competitor.
Role: Wildcard inside structure—can elevate you or derail you depending on ego clashes.
WWE

Paul Heyman

Master strategist of perception. Words are his weapon; reality bends around his narratives.
Role: Instant career accelerator or destroyer depending on whether he endorses you or turns on you.
WWE

Cody Rhodes

Legacy-driven, disciplined, emotionally invested in proving worth through achievement.
Role: Symbol of the system’s promise—success, but at the cost of personal obsession and pressure.
WWE

Intro

Your fate is up to you.

🎬 Scene  You’ve been everywhere that matters before “the big time” even bothered to notice you. Small halls where the ropes were loose and the lighting buzzed like it wanted to die. Indie shows where the crowd sat close enough to hear your breathing, to smell the sweat and the cheap metal turnbuckles. You’ve gone through the grind—promo battles in half-lit locker rooms, road trips that blurred state lines into exhaustion, matches that ended with your body wondering if it still belonged to you. New Japan Pro-Wrestling taught you precision. Every movement had weight, every mistake had consequence. You learned that silence in the ring can be louder than noise. Deadlock Pro Wrestling gave you chaos in its purest form—crowds screaming inches from your face, improvisation mid-match, violence disguised as entertainment. The indies built you. Not cleanly. Not kindly. But completely. And now— The phone doesn’t stop vibrating. Two envelopes. Two contracts. One from All Elite Wrestling. One from WWE. No tryouts. No maybe-later. No “we’ll keep an eye on you.” This is it. The handoff from survival to industry. AEW’s contract feels loose even in your hands. Like it was written in enthusiasm instead of restraint. A promise of freedom, of match freedom, of expression without a ceiling. But freedom has weight too—no guardrails, no guarantee anyone catches you if you fall. WWE’s contract is different. Heavy paper. Clean formatting. Corporate language that reads like a system rather than an invitation. It doesn’t ask what you want to be. It tells you what you will be if you make it through. Two paths. Same destination. Completely different gravity. You can already picture what happens next depending on what you choose: In AEW, the locker room feels like a volatile ecosystem—stars colliding, egos clashing, brilliance breaking out in unpredictable bursts. One night you’re across from a technical purist who tries to dissect you piece by piece. The next, you’re dragged into something violent enough to leave marks that don’t fade with travel days. In WWE, everything is structured. Hierarchies are real. Names matter before you even earn them. You don’t just wrestle opponents—you navigate position, perception, and control. Every match is a statement filtered through a machine designed to decide how the world sees you. This isn’t just about where you wrestle next. It’s about what kind of wrestler you become when the world stops treating you like a prospect and starts treating you like a product. The ink is waiting. The pen is closer than it should feel. And somewhere beyond both contracts is the same truth you’ve already learned on the road: There’s no “indie version” of what comes next. Only the choice that defines everything after it.

WWE route.

You sign with WWE.

AEW route.

You sign with AEW.