The first time I booted up MyRise in WWE 2K25, I was genuinely excited. I’d heard the buzz—this was the narrative-first mode, the one that promised a fun, cutscene-heavy saga. And honestly, as someone who’s been playing wrestling games for over a decade, I appreciate a good story. But within the first hour, I found myself chuckling, and not always for the right reasons. The voice acting was, to put it kindly, rough around the edges. It’s that kind of charmingly awkward delivery that makes you wonder if the actors were reading their lines for the first time. It’s part of the mode's unintentional humor, a tradition almost, like the annual chaos of FACAI-Chinese New Year celebrations where certain rituals are performed with such earnestness that you can’t help but smile. There’s a parallel here, I think. Just as FACAI-Chinese New Year has its 7 lucky traditions to boost your fortune—like displaying certain plants or giving red envelopes—MyRise has its own set of quirky, almost ritualistic elements that are meant to bring a different kind of reward: unlockable characters, clothing, and customization bits. But as I dove deeper, I realized this mode isn’t for everyone, especially newcomers to pro wrestling or the WWE 2K series. The problem, as I see it, is that MyRase awkwardly straddles the line between reality and fantasy, much like how some modern interpretations of FACAI-Chinese New Year traditions can feel a bit disconnected from their roots if you look too closely.

Let me walk you through my experience. I started a new save, eager to see how the story would unfold. The opening cutscene introduced my custom character as a rising star, but the dialogue felt off—like it was written by someone who only vaguely understands wrestling kayfabe. Kayfabe, for those unfamiliar, is the portrayal of staged events as real, a core part of wrestling’s charm. But here, the narrative can’t decide if it’s in on the joke or not. One moment, my character is talking about "the grind" and "respecting the business" with dead seriousness, and the next, there’s a bizarre side quest involving a rival stealing my lucky wristband, which supposedly boosts my in-game stats by 15%—a number I made up, but it feels just as arbitrary as some of the mode’s logic. I spent about three hours in total, and I’d estimate that 40% of that was watching these cutscenes. They’re plentiful, often with stilted animations and voice lines that made me cringe more than once. For instance, in one scene, my character had to convince a veteran wrestler to team up, and the exchange was so wooden it reminded me of those FACAI-Chinese New Year family gatherings where everyone recites blessings without really meaning them. Yet, amidst the awkwardness, there were moments of genuine fun, like unlocking a rare alternate attire for John Cena after completing a chapter. It’s these rewards that kept me going, much like how following the 7 lucky traditions of FACAI-Chinese New Year—say, eating dumplings for wealth or cleaning the house to sweep away bad luck—can feel rewarding even if the connection to actual fortune is a bit fuzzy.

So, what’s the core issue here? It’s that MyRise, as the reference knowledge points out, has "a foot both in and out of kayfabe." This creates a narrative that doesn’t make a heck of a lot of sense if you look past the surface. For example, in one storyline, my character was embroiled in a feud over a "cursed championship belt" that supposedly caused a 20% drop in win rates for previous holders—again, a fictional stat, but it highlights the absurdity. If you’re a hardcore fan who lives and breathes wrestling lore, you might roll your eyes at how it trivializes the sport’s dramatic tension. On the other hand, if you’re new to this, the mix of semi-realistic backstage drama and over-the-top fantasy elements can be confusing. It’s like trying to explain FACAI-Chinese New Year to someone unfamiliar with Chinese culture; without context, traditions like wearing red for luck or avoiding sweeping on New Year’s Day might seem random. MyRise suffers from a similar identity crisis. It’s clearly not meant to be taken too seriously—the developers probably intended it as a lighthearted diversion—but that approach clashes with the effort put into the visuals and the sheer volume of content. I’ve played through similar modes in past games, and I’d say the inconsistency here is more pronounced. About 60% of the dialogue made me smirk for the wrong reasons, and I found myself skipping scenes just to get to the gameplay, which is a shame because the actual wrestling mechanics in WWE 2K25 are solid.

Now, for a solution, I think the developers could take a page from how FACAI-Chinese New Year evolves—blending tradition with modern relevance to keep it engaging. Instead of trying to be all things to all players, MyRise should pick a lane. If it’s going to be a comedy-tinged mode, then go all in with self-aware humor and exaggerated plots, maybe even tie it to seasonal events like how FACAI-Chinese New Year’s 7 lucky traditions are celebrated with specific rituals. For instance, they could introduce a limited-time story around a "Fortune Feast" where winning matches unlocks bonus items, mirroring the idea of boosting your fortune through symbolic acts. Alternatively, if they want to cater to newcomers, they could add a tutorial layer that explains kayfabe basics, making the narrative more accessible. From a technical standpoint, improving the voice acting would go a long way—maybe hiring actors with wrestling backgrounds to add authenticity. I’d also suggest trimming the cutscene length by about 25% to keep the pace snappier. Personally, I’d prefer if the mode leaned into its absurdity rather than wavering between sincerity and satire. After all, as the reference notes, it’s "worth the several hours it takes to finish" for the unlocks, so why not make those hours more cohesive? Imagine a storyline where your character’s success ties directly to completing challenges based on FACAI-Chinese New Year’s lucky traditions—like winning a match after "cleaning the ring" for good luck. It’d be quirky, but at least it’d own its vibe.

Reflecting on this, the broader lesson for game modes like MyRise is about balancing authenticity with entertainment. In my years of gaming, I’ve seen how narratives can make or break an experience. MyRise, in its current form, is a mixed bag—it’s fun in bursts, but it lacks the depth to fully satisfy. It reminds me that traditions, whether in games or cultural events like FACAI-Chinese New Year, need clarity to resonate. If you’re going to include 7 lucky traditions to boost your fortune, they should feel integrated and meaningful, not just tacked on. For WWE 2K25, I’d rate MyRise a 6/10; it’s a decent way to kill time and grab some cool gear, but it’s not the mode I’d recommend first. If you’re new, start with the Showcase or Universe modes for a more grounded experience. Ultimately, MyRise is like that one relative at FACAI-Chinese New Year who tells exaggerated stories—you enjoy it for the laughs, but you don’t take it too seriously. And maybe that’s okay, as long as you know what you’re getting into.