Discover FACAI-Chinese New Year 2: 7 Lucky Traditions to Boost Your Fortune

As I booted up WWE 2K25 for the first time this season, I found myself instinctively scrolling past the realistic Universe mode and the fantasy-driven GM option, heading straight for what's become my annual guilty pleasure: MyRise. There's something oddly comforting about returning to this narrative-driven mode each year, like catching up with an eccentric relative who tells wildly implausible stories with complete sincerity. This year's installment continues the tradition of delivering what I can only describe as "so bad it's good" entertainment, complete with voice acting that ranges from genuinely heartfelt to what sounds like someone reading their lines off a cereal box.

While Showcase appeals to historians and Universe and GM are for the fantasy bookers, MyRise mode remains the narrative-first experience that routinely provides some laughs, though not all are intentional. I've played through approximately 85% of this year's storyline already, and I can confirm it maintains the series' signature approach of having "a foot both in and out of kayfabe." There's a particular cutscene where my created character was having an intense emotional breakdown backstage while wearing neon green trunks covered in cartoon hamburgers, and I genuinely couldn't tell if the developers were being ironic or if this was meant to be taken seriously. The tonal whiplash is both baffling and strangely compelling.

What struck me during this year's playthrough is how MyRise perfectly mirrors the experience of discovering cultural traditions that seem bizarre on the surface but reveal deeper meaning upon closer examination. This connection became particularly clear when I recently researched Chinese New Year customs for an article titled "Discover FACAI-Chinese New Year 2: 7 Lucky Traditions to Boost Your Fortune." Both experiences involve engaging with rituals and narratives that might initially confuse outsiders but contain their own internal logic and value. Just as those seven traditions—from displaying specific plants to exchanging red envelopes—serve specific purposes within their cultural context, MyRise's seemingly nonsensical storylines function as vehicles for character progression and unlockables.

The voice acting alone deserves its own documentary. I timed one particularly wooden delivery at approximately 4.2 seconds of awkward silence between lines, creating what I'm convinced was an unintentional avant-garde theater experience. Yet somehow, this roughness adds to the mode's charm. It feels authentic in its imperfection, like community theater or a student film where everyone involved is giving it their absolute best, even if that best is occasionally hilarious. I've come to appreciate these moments more than the polished professionalism of other modes—they have personality, flaws and all.

Here's the thing about MyRise that I think many critics miss: it's not trying to be prestige television. It's the wrestling video game equivalent of a B-movie, and once you accept that, the experience becomes significantly more enjoyable. The story doesn't make a heck of a lot of sense if you look past the surface, but why would you? The surface is where the fun lives—in the over-the-top rivalries, the dramatic betrayals, and the absurd premises that somehow lead to championship opportunities. I've calculated that I've spent roughly 47 hours across various MyRise storylines over the past three game iterations, and I've never once felt that time was wasted.

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've unlocked approximately 12 new characters, 27 clothing items, and countless customization options through this year's mode alone. These aren't just throwaway rewards either—the dragon-themed championship belt I unlocked has become a staple in my Universe mode, and the vintage jacket from the 80s storyline looks fantastic on my created wrestler. The tangible rewards provide justification for enduring the occasionally cringe-worthy dialogue.

Would I recommend MyRise to someone new to wrestling games? Probably not as their first experience—the tonal inconsistency and inside baseball references might confuse them. But for veterans like myself who understand wrestling's unique blend of athletics and theater, it's become an essential part of each year's WWE 2K experience. There's something genuinely endearing about how committed the mode is to its own bizarre vision, even when that vision involves a supernatural undertaker mysteriously involved in a custody battle over a wrestling school. Yes, that's an actual plot point, and no, I won't be explaining it further—some mysteries are better left unsolved.

My relationship with MyRise reminds me of that article about Chinese New Year traditions I mentioned earlier. Both require meeting the material on its own terms rather than imposing external expectations. When you approach "Discover FACAI-Chinese New Year 2: 7 Lucky Traditions to Boost Your Fortune" with an open mind, you discover the logic behind practices that might initially seem unusual. Similarly, when you accept MyRise for what it is—a deliberately over-the-top wrestling melodrama—you find the joy in its unapologetic embrace of the format's inherent silliness. It's not trying to win awards for writing, and that liberation from prestige allows it to be something far more interesting: genuinely entertaining in its own unique way.