Here’s a personal favorite from my old site, That Site with the Name. You know it’s old, because the idea of Cro Cop knocking anyone out now seems ludicrous. Sigh.
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The sport of Mixed Martial Arts (MMA) has been growing in popularity, particularly in the United States, at an extraordinary rate of late. Unfortunately, much of the sport-watching population is still somewhat uneducated about the sport, which they likely refer to as Ultimate Fighting, and just what it is that’s going on in that ring or octagon. We here at TsSwtN seek to educate the masses on all forms of sporting, even those that haven’t quite made it to the mainstream yet, and so, in an effort to educate, we came to an agreement to publish our own Choose Your Own Adventure story on the sport.
Sadly, the contract fell through due to claims that our requests for a private jet and pimped out Hummer in our contract were “fucking ludicrous.” Not to worry though, we have faithfully reproduced said CYOA book for you in a handy, and free, online form.
You are Phinneas Q. Weatherbottom, and have been competing professionally in Mixed Martial Arts for several years, compiling am impressive 9-0 record. Recently your dream has come true, you have been offered a fight in the big show, and you have been training rigorously for the impending bout.
You are an accomplished striker, a fighter that prefers to win matches punching as opposed to grappling, and are waiting to be called to the scale for weigh-ins, along with your opponent Mirko “Cro Cop” Filipovic.
“Phinneas ‘The Haberdasher’ Weatherbottom,” you hear over the club’s speaker system and realize you have been called to stage. After making weight you take the microphone and decide to call out this “Cro Cop” character.
“Verily, I reckon I shall trounce this hooligan,” you chortle, casting a dismissive glance in his direction. “I say good sir, if your accent were any thicker, well, I don’t reckon it would be very easy to understand you at all, now, would it?” Mr. Cro Cop seems unimpressed as he smiles in his chair.
With a deep belly laugh you stride off-stage while Cro Cop steps up to be weighed. After, the announcer offers him the microphone for rebuttal. He informs you his right leg puts you in the hospital, his left leg puts you in the cemetery.
After a fitful night’s sleep, match day has arrived. You wait backstage for the earlier fights to finish, and before you know it, it’s your time to shine. Striding through the fancy pyrotechnics you march down to the ring, slapping the hands of spectators as you go. The referee looks you over and reminds you of the pertinent rules, chief among them “watch the nuts.” With his talk complete, you enter the ring and wait.
Cro Cop enters the arena to much fanfare, walking solemnly toward the ring. After receiving the same talk, he enters, and the referee calls the two of you to the center of the ring. You share an intense stare down.
With the stare down and last minute pep-talks complete, the bell rings and the fight begins.
How do you begin your attempt to defeat the Croatian?
Cro Cop kicks you in the head. You are out cold before you hit the mat.
Thinking better of attempting to strike with the former officer, you begin to back-peddle around the ring in an effort to maximize distance between yourself and your opponent.
Moving purposefully, Cro Cop stalks you, slowly narrowing the distance of separation. Suddenly, Cro Cop slips over the moderately slick logo plastered in the ring. Seizing the opportunity, you lunge at the off-balance man, landing a crushing right to his head.
Cro Cop appears to be rocked, and you pounce on him for the kill, ready to secure a fast upset victory.