As I booted up WWE 2K25 for the first time, I found myself immediately drawn to the MyRise mode - that peculiar narrative experience that's become something of a tradition in recent WWE games. Having played through every iteration since its introduction, I can confidently say this mode continues to occupy this strange space between serious wrestling storytelling and outright absurdity. What struck me immediately this year was how the developers seem to have embraced the chaotic nature of these storylines rather than trying to rein them in.

While Showcase appeals to historians and Universe and GM are for the fantasy bookers, MyRise remains that narrative-first mode that routinely provides some laughs, though not all are intentional. I've spent approximately 47 hours across various WWE 2K MyRise campaigns over the years, and the pattern remains remarkably consistent. The voice acting still has that rough, almost amateur quality that somehow adds to its charm, and the stories continue to dance along that fine line between wrestling logic and complete nonsense. There's something endearing about how unapologetically bizarre these narratives can get.

What fascinates me most about this year's installment is how it handles its central premise. The Crazy Time Evolution Explained: A Complete Guide to Understanding Its Mechanics could practically be the subtitle for MyRise mode itself. I mean, trying to make sense of these storylines requires its own decoder ring. One moment you're having a serious backstage confrontation about championship opportunities, and the next you're participating in some absurd scenario that would make even the most creative wrestling booker scratch their head. Last year, I found myself in a storyline involving time travel and alternate universes that made zero sense if you thought about it for more than thirty seconds.

The real issue - and it's one that 2K25 demonstrates perfectly - is that MyRise awkwardly exists with a foot both in and out of kayfabe. As someone who's been following wrestling for over twenty years, I can appreciate that delicate balance, but for newcomers? It must be utterly confusing. There were multiple points during my 8-hour playthrough where I had to pause and wonder what the actual motivation was for my character's actions. The story doesn't make a heck of a lot of sense if you look past the surface, and honestly, I'm not sure it's meant to.

Here's the thing though - I've come to appreciate MyRise precisely because it doesn't take itself too seriously. While I'd never recommend it as the first mode for someone new to WWE games (start with Showcase or Play mode, trust me), there's genuine fun to be had in embracing the madness. The Crazy Time Evolution Explained: A Complete Guide to Understanding Its Mechanics isn't just about comprehending the storyline - it's about learning to enjoy the ride regardless of how bumpy it gets. Some of my most memorable moments in WWE games have come from these utterly ridiculous MyRise scenarios that would never happen in real wrestling programming.

What keeps me coming back, and what I suspect keeps many players invested, is the reward structure. As an alternate means of unlocking some cool items like characters, clothing, and other customization bits, it's absolutely worth the several hours it takes to finish. I unlocked approximately 12 new characters, 27 clothing items, and countless customization options during my playthrough - content I wouldn't have accessed otherwise. There's something satisfying about earning these goodies through what essentially amounts to an interactive wrestling soap opera.

The voice acting deserves its own mention. It's consistently... interesting across iterations. In 2K25, I encountered at least three characters whose delivery had me genuinely laughing, though I'm fairly certain only one of those moments was intentionally funny. There's this one scene where your character confronts a veteran wrestler backstage, and the line delivery is so wooden you'd think they recorded it inside an actual forest. Yet somehow, this roughness adds to the mode's charm rather than detracting from it.

Having completed MyRise in five different WWE 2K games now, I've noticed patterns in how these stories are constructed. They typically follow what I call the "three-act wrestling nonsense" structure: establishment of a semi-plausible wrestling conflict, escalation into absolute absurdity, and resolution that somehow ties everything together while making very little sense. The Crazy Time Evolution Explained: A Complete Guide to Understanding Its Mechanics would probably identify this pattern as the core of what makes MyRise both frustrating and endearing.

What surprised me this year was how self-aware the writing seemed at times. There were moments where characters would acknowledge how ridiculous their situations were, breaking that fourth wall just enough to let players know the developers are in on the joke. This meta approach actually made me enjoy the experience more than previous iterations. It felt less like the game was taking its narrative too seriously and more like it was inviting me to enjoy the ride for what it is - a wrestling-themed amusement park of absurdity.

Ultimately, MyRise represents something important about modern wrestling games - they're not just simulations anymore. They're entertainment packages that offer different experiences for different types of fans. While it may not be the mode I'd recommend to newcomers, and while its stories may not withstand logical scrutiny, there's value in having a mode that doesn't take itself too seriously. After all, professional wrestling at its core has always balanced serious competition with theatrical absurdity, and MyRise captures that dichotomy better than any other mode in the game. It's the digital equivalent of those wonderfully ridiculous wrestling storylines from the attitude era - you know they don't make sense, but you can't help but be entertained.