PRESS Y

PRESS Y
verb
The button you press in EA’s NHL (aka CHEL) series on XBOX to initiate a fight. Used as terminology between professional hockey players who are willing to scrap one another.
Example. Conor Fuse: Hey stupid Pyramid Head, Press Y!

Addendum
PYRAMID HEAD
noun
Also known as The Executioner, is a mindlessly violent fictional character who carries a machete from the Silent Hill survival horror video games published by Konami. Conor finds similarities between Pyramid Head and Scottywood, with his barbed wire wielding hockey stick.
Example. Joe Hoffman: It’s Conor Fuse vs. Pyramid Head in a hardcore match at ICONIC!

Addendum 2
ICONIC
noun, verb, pronoun, everything
Serious shit. Biggest event of the year.
Example. Dude, none needed.

.
“OOOOOOOHHHHHHH, BEG MOTHERFUCKER… BEG!”
.

I’ve heard that phrase so much over the past two months it’s starting to become quite uplifting. It’s like when I start my Sega Genesis and I hear the word “SEGA!” or when I boot up my PlayStation 1, where the logo appears and a flute is playing in the background. At least it sounds like a flute, change my mind. While I don’t care for the swearing in your start-up signature, Scotty (my mom says swearing is for bullies) and begging might be asking for a little too much on my end, too, it still warms my heart knowing I’ve heard it so frequently. Those words mean I’m getting somewhere.

And here we are, a few days from ICONIC and the biggest match of my single player campaign.

I have a lot to thank you for.

Recently I rambled on about displaying heart, pulling myself up, all that stuff. Finding my way through the BOTS and BOSSES in HOW, trying to navigate this High Octane game. It’s not easy. At times I lack confidence, other times I think I’m leading the way.

Can I beat you? Maybe.

Can you help me? Definitely. You already have. You’re toughening me up.

As a result, I allowed myself to be overwhelmed with you “stalking me”, knowing you’d eventually attack when my guard was down, like you did after my match with Hughie Freeman. And then, it was Game On.

You’re the bully in this story, you dumb mindless Pyramid Head. Beating me up. Picking on me. Forcing me to play video games against my will. We strung each other along until we both got what we wanted, a hardcore match a mere two days away.

I’m ready to play and I took the opportunity to make a few amendments to your “signature”.

Please, by all means, Press Y.

…

…“OOOOOOOHHHHHHH, PLAY HARDCORE ARTIST… PLAY!”

…

Local Gym
November 15, 2020
23:10

“I need you to stay back.”

I can tell he’s not happy with me. He wants to be in my corner. However, this is a path I chose when I decided to stand up to Jatt Moto, when I decided to take the noble route. No warp whistles. No hidden power-ups. No cheat codes. This honourable direction was going to do more for my journey than anything else. It was going to tell me how good of a player I was. What were my strengths? More importantly… what were my weaknesses?

My Game Boy, as I’ve named him, is my big hulking henchman who I brought with me to High Octane at the beginning of my campaign. He’s 6’6”, 300-plus pounds of pure muscle. Some people think he’s on the “juice”. I don’t get that. I haven’t given him apple or orange liquid in many, many years. He likes Kool-Aid though, green Kool-Aid like me. Regardless, he’s my physical support. I’m only 6’1”, barely 200 pounds myself. HOW has some big Bosses and others who may lack sheer size but pack a wicked punch. The Game Boy was supposed to help me even the odds. He was my ultimate cheat code. He was my game shark.

But right now, I needed to go down this single player path by myself.

“I’m sorry.” I say to him. His head is down, his eyes are closed. You can’t see much through his SNES-styled luchador mask. I designed the mask for this very reason. My Game Boy doesn’t talk. He’s followed me around to various systems for a year now and he doesn’t say a word… but he and I are telepathically linked. We use the Codex method from Metal Gear Solid, at least that’s what I think I installed. His main purpose in the wrestling world is to provide protection and back me up. “You’ll still be with me. I’m not deleting you or anything.”

I tussle his head like a puppy dog. It may seem silly but that’s my way of bonding with him. He would and has done everything for me in the past.

“I’m still going to need you.” I reassure him. I’m honest; I’m not lying. There are going to be times where I’ll call. “I just can’t have you come to ringside with me right now. In fact, for the next few months, you may need to stay home altogether.”

I made the final decision after Pyramid Head attacked me following my loss to Hughie Freeman. Sure, The Game Boy wasn’t with me that night either but I was trying to feel things out on my own. When Pyramid Head beat me black and blue… I knew I had to be honourable, more than ever before. It’s my only way to work through these HOW worlds and defeat the Bosses the right way.

I had ripped on Pyramid Head earlier. I said his throne is crumbling. I said he has nothing in front of him. That’s all true. But he is an historic Boss. A Hall of Famer. And I’ve already lost to one.

I cannot afford for this to happen again.

“I have to do it the right way. But the right way is not going to look pretty.”

The Game Boy nods at my final comment. I’m sure he understands. It might be tough for my sidekick to watch these next few weeks. Pyramid Head IS playing into what I need him to play into. I need him to beat me up. I need him to make me strong. And I need a hardcore match at ICONIC. All of this doesn’t mean I’ll be able to best this guy, though. That’s where I have to trust what I have inside me. That’s where I have to trust my heart and fighting spirit. Where I have to get up every single time he, or someone else, comes calling.

“Keep your skills sharp, though.” I mention to The “Mini” Boss as the two of us walk out of the gym we were training in. “Who knows when I will call…”

…

…“OOOOOOOHHHHHHH, PLAY HARDCORE ARTIST… PLAY!”

…

Remember when I told you the story of my idol, Jack Harmen aka High Flyer? How he got me into wrestling? If you don’t remember, or weren’t paying attention, I can quickly refresh your memory chip. I was begging Jack to hurt me, to put me in a headspace where I can be best suited to do battle with Pyramid Head. (Funny, I guess I HAVE begged before!) It was my 9th birthday. I was excited to pick up the new IWO trading cards, in the hopes I’d get a High Flyer one. I also explored the opportunity to begin my wrestling career at the local training facility. I was told to come back when I’m older, pfft, whatever. Anyway, today (Dec 17) is my 28th birthday. There’s no trading cards for me anymore… but there’s another story I left out after I opened my pack of collectables and watched High Flyer on television…

Home
December 17th, 2001
16:44

Thrilled I received a High Flyer trading card and watched him win the main event on IWO television, I decided to forgo my present unwrapping until later on in the night. Right now, I was going to play outside. I wanted to emulate my hero.

Putting on my lime green boots, I pulled a blue Nintendo hoodie over my two layers of sweatshirts and ran outside. I was on my way to the park, just a few blocks from my house. Snow covered the grounds entirely, which was perfect for me to work on some of my own high flying skills. There was a jungle gym off to the left, painted red and blue. The monkey bars connected to a “bridge”, which connected to a slide. If you walked a little further, there was even another slide, this one in the form of a purple tube. It bent to the left and it bent to the right. It was a wild trip back when I was 5-bit (5-years-old). Now, I’m not as interested anymore.

I just wanted the monkey bars.

Running across the grounds, I made my way to them.

“And The Amazing Conor is on the top rope!” I said softly to myself, as I leapt up and took hold of the first bar. I climbed my way to the center of them and measured my opponent… “OOOHHH elbow drop!”

And drop I did, the snow breaking my fall.

This is what life was all about.

“Oh no!” I exclaimed. My voice was getting louder and I didn’t know it. “He’s going BACK TO THE TOP ROPE!!”

Measuring my opponent, I climbed to the middle bar again…

“HOLY FUDGE!” I shouted, falling off the bars and into another elbow drop! “He’s got the pin… ONE… TWO… KICKOUT!”

I slam the ground in fake frustration as more snow kicks up. “It looks like The Amazing Conor STILL has work to do!” I stand, I look around…

WHAM.

Straight into a punch. A real punch.

“Fuck you, wrestling freak.”

As I fall to my knees, I look up and see Devin Dupin. He’s a few years older than I am and the playground bully at school. I knew he lived nearby, I just didn’t see him around these parts until it was too late. He punched me in the side of the face. He punched me, good.

“Having fun playing your silly little game?” Devin stands over me, arms crossed and laughing. It’s then I realize he’s not alone but with a couple others, too. Great, just great.

“What a fucking loser.” One of the kids in a brown toque says. He stands to the right of Devin. “Who talks to themselves when they play?”

“Only stupid fucks.” Says another boy, this one is not wearing a toque at all. He has silver hair and a light track jacket. He’s wearing less than I am for this insane weather.

“Whatever guys.” I snap back, trying to be tough. Devin drilled me good. My face is pounding. “Why don’t the three of you leave me alone?”

Devin kneels down beside me. “Aww, fuckface standing up for himself?” Devin pushes me back down as I try to get up. “You’re a fucking loser, Conor. Wrestling is for losers. Video games are for losers. You like both; you’re a fucking loser.”

Okay, it’s not the greatest trash talk in the world, I’ll certainly say that. I’m 9, he’s 11. For me this was like facing the 11-bit version of Mike Best. How the hell am I supposed to respond to that? Those words are terrifying.

“Wrestling is cool.” I try to defend passion 1 of 2. “So are video g-”

I eat another punch, this one catches me between the eyes.

“I’m gonna beat the fuck outta you, Conor.” Devin looks from side to side. Only his buddies are beside him. “No teachers, no parents around to see it.”

I don’t need to get into more detail. Devin follows his words. On my 9th birthday… he beats the living piss out of me.

I tried to fight back, I really did. But I had no skills at the time… and I wasn’t ready for this battle. I just wanted to pretend to be High Flyer and have some fun.

I wasn’t asking for much.

…

…“OOOOOOOHHHHHHH, PLAY HARDCORE ARTIST… PLAY!”

…

Home
December 17th, 2001
18:01

Let’s skip ahead an hour. I open the door to my house. Across the way, my mom shows a face of joy as she shouts to everyone that I’m home and it’s time to open some presents…

“Mom, not right now” I mentioned. My hoodie is up and it’s covering my face. No one can see how upset I’ve just been. “I’m going to my room. I’ll be down later, okay?”

I race up the stairs without hearing a reply. I go straight into the bathroom and close the door, locking it behind me. I hope mom didn’t see my face… I hope she didn’t… I hope she didn’t…

I stand in front of the mirror and I pull back my hoodie.

Two black eyes and blood seeping from my nose.

“Devin got me good…”

And while it wasn’t the first time and definitely not the last, the next part of this “9-bit story” is put on the shelf for another time. It’s not relevant right now.

So back to the present I go…

…

…“OOOOOOOHHHHHHH, PLAY HARDCORE ARTIST… PLAY!”

…

Best Arena
November 28th, 2020
23:26

“Conor… can you hear me?”

Barely. Where am I?

“Conor, hello? Can you follow the light?”

I see a light. What’s going on?

“Conor? Are you there?”

Oh, I realize I’m not talking… “Hey, where am I?”

There we go. Forgot to open my mouth. LOLZ.

I sit up and look around. I see white bricks everywhere. I’m in the middle of a medium-sized room as a huge portable light hovers over me. The ceiling is basic white paint, with a panel of lights running across it, too. One of the lights in the far right flickers on and off, on and off. It’s trying to divert my attention towards it but I shake it away, for now. Otherwise, there doesn’t look to be too much here… just an open, blank space.

“Conor, you’re in the IMPACT Room.” I look to my right and I see the same EMT that supported me through Pyramid Head’s attack after my loss to Hughie. “We needed to assess you for a concussion. So far it looks like you’re fine. You passed out a moment ago, though… rambling on about a machete and a pyramid or something…”

I’m still trying to piece together what happened, the EMT can tell.

“Scotty attacked you from behind. DDT’ed you on the cement. All results have come back negative. Unfortunately, you’ve got two black eyes but that’s about it.”

“Two… black eyes?” I ask, attempting to feel my face. It’s pretty numb.

“Yes. They should heal in a week. No facial fractures, no concussion, you’re withstanding a lot from this guy. It might not be a good idea to engage any further…”

Even though I can’t feel my face, I can propriate accordingly. Getting to my feet, I thank the EMT for his help and make my way to the exit door. “That’s okay. I don’t want to run away. I’m going to get back up every time he puts me down.”

I can see the EMT knows there’s no convincing me. “Thank you…” My voice trails off, not knowing his name.

“Devin.” He replies. “Devin Wo-”

My eyes narrow. “DEVIN!?”

“Yes.”

“DEVIN THE BULLY!? WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE! DEVIN DUPIN YOU STAY AWAY FROM ME!”

I flee the room and slam the door behind. Looking down at my Adidas track pants I pat them thoroughly, trying to find where my cellphone is.

“Eureka!” I may have been hit hard… I may have two black eyes… I may have passed out…

But I know who to call.

And no, it’s not The Ghostbusters. I like video games and wrestling. Comics and cartoons are a distant 3rd and 4th place.

I punch the number. The phone goes into half a ring before it’s picked up.

“Hello.” There is no reply on the other end. “I need you now…”

…

…“OOOOOOOHHHHHHH, PLAY HARDCORE ARTIST… PLAY!”

…

Local Gym
December 17th, 2020
21:00

My 28th birthday. Who knew I’d be spending it like this…

“I know this isn’t what you wanted…” I say calmly. “But it’s what I need.”

I stand in the middle of a ring at the local gymnasium, well past working hours. The owner gave me my own set of keys (story for another day). You’ve probably seen me here practicing before. The lights are dim. Darkness surrounds me except for the one imposing figure across the way.

My Game Boy.

“I need you to do it.” I tell him again. “I need this more than you’ll ever know.”

The Game Boy looms over me. I can see he’s been drinking the orange juice in our time apart. It’s taken A LOT of convincing but he IS standing there…

Holding a barbed wire hockey stick.

“I need you to fight me. I need you to pummel me.” I remind him. “Make me strong. Get me ready for the biggest match of my life!”

The Game Boy doesn’t do a thing. And then…

WHAM.

He takes the hockey stick and drills me in the stomach.

“YES!! FIVE MINUTES FOR CROSS CHECKING!! ‘CHEL 20!! PRESS Y, PRESS Y!!”

WHAM.

He drills me a second time.

“Did you see that, Pyramid Head!? DID YOU!?” I shout into the rafters. The dim light starts flickering on and off above me. I look up at my Game Boy. “Good work, little buddy. Now… AGAIN.”

WHAM.

“Again.”

WHAM.

“And [cough, cough] again.”

WHAM.

I feel resistance from the last shot. I think The “Mini” Boss is trying to take it easy on me. I start to giGGle. I stand up. I look him in the eyes.

“HIT ME, GOD DAMMIT! HIT ME. HIT ME!! HIT M-”

WHAM.

“TEN MINUTE MAJOR FOR BOARDING!!! PRESS Y, PRESS YYYYYYY!!!”

I fall to the floor, blood starts pouring from my mouth.

“See you soon, Pyramid Head…” I mumble, struggling to get to my feet. “This was good. Thank you so much, Game Boy. Can you stay right there while I go do something real quick?”

The Game Boy doesn’t move. He’s my best friend… of course he will listen. I race towards the bathroom and situate myself in front of the mirror.

There I am, “The Vintage” Conor Fuse, in my lime green Adidas track pants and lime green High Octane pullover, hood over my face.

I pull it back… revealing my two black eyes and a bloody nose.

9-bit… 28-bit… what’s the difference?

“Everything I want is right in front of me.” I say to myself. “I roped the bully in. I got my hardcore match. I get my fight.”

giGGle giGGle giGGle

“Game on, bitch.”

…

…“OOOOOOOHHHHHHH, PLAY HARDCORE ARTIST… PLAY!”

…

And here we are, just a few days away now. You’re not the first Boss or bully I’ve run into and you won’t be the last.

I have been stalked. I have been picked on. I have been decimated. And I’m so glad I was.

We can do something special at ICONIC. I need to make a name for myself and you need to bounce back.

Fight me, Scotty. Go ahead, make me beg. I’m open to the idea. In return, I will get up every time you knock me down and I will find a new way to fight you.

We both enter this thing with a lot to prove and we both can go to the limit. 

You say Game Misconduct. I say Game Over.

In the end, why can’t we have both?

“Fear cuts deeper than a barbed wire hockey stick.”

Let’s find out if that’s true. All you gotta do… is Press Y.