Wrestling always has been, and always will be, a complete and utter mess of fandoms housed in straw homes. This is either based on a single wrestler being perfect, a promotion being the best, or specific eras of wrestling being any greater than others. Every one of those arguments stands on, to mix up my metaphors here, a pedestal so flimsy you could knock it over with a gentle sigh. Wrestling is a stupid thing, built from the dying days of the carnival featuring stereotypes of every kind, but I love it nonetheless. I love the stupidity, though I demonize the stereotypes that have carried over into WWE.

I, like so many others, grew up with wrestling on the TV. I also grew up with it through videotapes; yes, I’m that old, and I still have the RAW 10th Anniversary tape, games, DVDs, and books. Behind me in my office, I have three generations of wrestling games of all different kinds, with some more preferable than others. If I went looking hard enough, I could probably find my copy of The Simpsons Wrestling; A god awful game, but it proves my point as someone who’s been playing these games for a while. I know what makes a good one, and I know why The Simpsons Wrestling is considered by many as one of the worst games of all time.

WWE 2K Battlegrounds is not The Simpsons Wrestling, at least you could tell who was who back in 2001. For some, they were heralding the return of the WWE All Stars arcade-like wrestling games of days on by. Others saw the scratchy WWE logo on the turnbuckles, a logo that was retired 2013-2014. In addition to that, being told to “please wait” a lot, the visual style (if you can call it that), awful menus, and flashy but ineffective fighting, some (including myself) have speculated privately and openly if 2K Battlegrounds was mothballed for mobile and brought out following last year’s disaster. I could honestly see that being the case.

What you want in a wrestling game, arcade-like or not, is smoothness. A fluidity to movement and an ability to pull off ridiculously dangerous stunts that could kill if done unprofessionally. For example, either yanking someone’s neck for a Stunner, RKO, or headlock. Conversely you want to do things like throwing someone back-first to the ground, your knee, or onto a weapon. Over the years, the more realistic 2K15-20 games got to a point of great detail and precision, all the while also holding a bit of fun in the games. 2K16 & 17 are still the best games if you want pure wrestling like actual wrestling that you see on TV weekly. There is enough precision you can pull of just about anything, but you can learn it up quickly enough without too much effort as well.

2K Battlegrounds is none of that. There is a lack of precision and purpose in everything you do. You are better off button mashing, but even that looks awful and powerless. I made a point with the THPS 1 + 2 remakes about games being unrealistic and fun; The point was that you have to be unrealistic in nature in some way or another, but also be fun in the process. What is fun about wrestling games are the variety of moves you can do, almost emulating what you see in WrestleMania matches, making you feel powerful. With 2K Battlegrounds, you are never going to feel like you are emulating Michaels Vs. Taker at WrestleMania 26; you’ll never come close to that.

Over-exaggeration is key to its style, but when that is paired with the lackluster gameplay of just hitting the same button over and over again until you win, I’d rather go back and play what I already own. The AI is like a stupid fox in a hen house, “Oh sorry ladies, why did I come in here again?” To use a phrase that’s common in some places, the AI couldn’t fight its way out of a wet paper bag. It tries, bless ’em, but it proves about as useful at fighting as a champion racehorse would be at knitting.

Let’s talk about the roster, or what little there is. Of course, as is de rigueur with wrestling games, you have to unlock characters as you play. From the off-set, you have about 24 of them unlocked out of a possible 70 (69 if you didn’t pre-order). Some of these you won’t care about, and sadly no one does, but there needs to be filler for what is really important for the avaricious. After every match, you are given a currency in “bucks” thanks Fortnite. You get a small amount to tease you along and gain more. Eventually, you’ll get enough to buy someone, but if you want Triple H, a wrestling staple of 22-years, you’ll have to play through tens of matches for him alone.

Then there are alternate skins, which can be another set of tens of matches. To unlock every base character and their outfits displayed from the get-go, you’ll have to play about 1,700+ matches; Or pay to get the gold currency, which is a microtransaction currency. Then to unlock cosmetics for your create-a-character, in one of the most restrictive creation suites I’ve seen in a wrestling game, you’ll have to pay more. On top of that, you have to use either this blue or gold currency to upgrade said created wrestler, and if you want several created wrestlers you need to pay to open up slots. That is where the game really gets on my nerves.

Gameplay is duller than watching your gran paint a fish, throw it in the sea, and watching for it to dry. I know I’m never going to play those hundreds and thousands of matches. So why would I want to unlock people I don’t care about? This is putting aside the fact that  the roster is about as deep as a paddling pool moderately filled with tepid bath water. There is meant to be some post-launch additions, but that will hardly be enough to drown a match stick compared to other years’ releases. The depth of WWE’s roster across RAW, SmackDown, and NXT of both the US and UK bases, is a large pool of talent that has been forgotten about.

At release: NXT is ignored. Many of the former wrestlers that have since left or been released are featured, and the current WWE champion is one of the many you have to grind or pay extra for. That also brings up something missing: there are no championships to fight for or anything close to that. You are grinding for the sake of grinding. If you are one of the few that do enjoy it, that’s fine, but I don’t understand it in the least. With the gameplay and grind proving a slog, I and many others could better serve our time playing anything else, I’d rather go and do anything else.

There is one thing that did get on my nerves to the point I’d hate the game for it, menus and prompts that drew everything out. You’ve seen it in awfully designed UI all over the place, there is no doubt in that, as a box of text or tutorial pops up and waits. It waits a few seconds and then (and only then) you can tell it to swan off and hope it never comes back. It is not only annoying when you are trying to get through lots of irrelevant menus, but when you’re trying to play the game and tutorials keep cropping up. I’ve had the same tutorial show up multiple times after I’ve already told it to go away. If you want to make a game, don’t do that, it is stupid.

The creation suite, as I’ve already noted, is dreadfully monetized to bleed you dry along with everything else you can buy. What you can customize or slightly configure of a desired created wrestler is limiting in ways not seen since the very early days of the PS2. WWE SmackDown! Here Comes The Pain had better customization, and it was released in 2003. As far as I’m concerned, one of the best things about 2K’s releases over the years had been the creation suite, and this was not only a step backward but a complete de-evolution for the genre steeped in microtransaction hell.

I haven’t even stepped in the dog mess that is the story yet. To the credit of 2K and Saber Interactive, they tried for a story here. It is bloody awful though. Spanning the life and times of Useless 1 and Thing 2, you play through a contrite and saccharine idealism of WWE through a comic strip that tries too hard to endear while keeping, as is said online by those who don’t understand it, “kayfabe.” Dragging yourself through that should be labeled as torture. It is appalling and only made worse by Jerry Lawler squawking in your ear during commentary and menus.

Lastly, I want to talk about the characters themselves, the melted wax works they tend to be. I’ll say it, Ronda Rousey does not look like an angry melted Barbie with a gaze akin to “you did not just sleep with my best friend!” Some wrestlers look ok-ish, others might as well jump in front of a bus so they might look more like their namesake. John Cena is a good example, easily the most recognizable John born April the 23rd 1977. When the man that carried the company through the 2000s mainstream success (and failures) looks like a flaccid Stretch Armstrong, there is something wrong.

In conclusion, if you want a lifeless and soulless game that will force microtransactions to rub up against you like that one guy on a bus, this is the game for you. If my strong hyperbolic and downright abrasive suggestions haven’t made it clear, it is not the game I’d recommend. WWE 2K16 or 2K17 is probably $5 secondhand in stores, $15-30 new online. They are better overall and deeper than the ocean, as they feature full wrestling RPGs. Otherwise, keep playing the last wrestling game you enjoyed.

An Xbox One copy of WWE 2K Battlegrounds Deluxe Edition was provided by 2K for this review.

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WWE 2K Battlegrounds

$39.99

2

Score

2.0/10

Pros

• Slightly better gameplay than The Simpsons Game.

Cons

• A dreadfully awful creative suite.
• Microtransactions crammed everywhere possible.
• An "art" style best described as melted and deflated Stretch Armstrong.