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Shooter Landell


New member
Aug 9, 2018
Thanks for taking the time to look this over. Please note, this is a character idea that I've had for a number of years and have tried low-key a few times with slight variations. The writing sample is not an original piece for DEFIANCE, but rather an introductory piece for the character I wrote and have since edited here and there.

I do not currently have an AIM or Skype, but would get one if accepted.

Handler Information

Name: J
Email Address: shooterlandell@gmail.com
Best Way to Contact You: Forum PM
eWrestling Experience: I've been around e-wrestling since I was about 14 off and on. I haven't been around much at all in the last several years. I joined briefly with a project last year , but it folded quickly.
How did you find DEFIANCE?: I've known about DEFIANCE for a long time but was reminded of it browsing fWrestling.
Are you willing to write matches?: Yes

Writing Sample:

He had been asking himself the same question for the past ten years: how did I get here? Mike Landell, often referred to as Shooter Landell in the world of professional wrestling, had been on track for a successful life, yet somehow he ended up in a high school locker room in small town Iowa wearing underwear to entertain morons.

"Shit... went... south," Landell mumbled under his breath as the oddities of the wrestling world shuffled around him. He could barely mask his snarl as he surveyed the locker room.

When he had first entered the wrestling business, wrestlers had been wrestlers. They had been real mean that knew the difference between a wrist lock and a wrist watch. For the last several years of his career, however, Landell had noticed a significant decline in the quality of the wrestlers. He had been surrounded by colorful men wearing colorful tights with baby oil lathered to their chests and knee high boots - primadonna male models pretending to be tough guys.

He had never actually intended to even be involved in the wrestling business. Landell had been a truly phenomenal judoka and high school wrestler. So much so, in fact, that he had been offered as a high school senior a full ride scholarship with one of the most prestigious wrestling programs in the country at the University of Iowa. His senior year couldn't have been much better: he had been an All American, he was set to attend his first choice college and program and he had met and began dating who he thought may be the love of his life in Lauren, a girl who had recently moved from California. Everything was in place for a great life.

Next thing he knew, Lauren's pregnant. Being a college student, while an admirable endeavor, isn't going to put food on the table or pay the massive bills that come with a baby. He had done what any man would do: he provided. Landell dropped out of school, found some work that he hated and wasn't compensated properly for. He took up drinking. Who didn't see that coming? Fast forward some years and the story gets so cliche it could make a man sick: another kid, a mortgage, a piece of shit Chevy that never runs when it's needed and, of course, bills. Lots of bills.

He could admit that he didn't immediately notice his wife's errands running late. He was a busy man with a job that demanded extensive travel and a drinking habit to tend to, he couldn't be bothered with the gripes of an unsatisfied wife. After all, is there such a thing as a satisfied wife? A satisfied woman for that matter? He didn't think so. Looking back, he supposed the signs were obvious. Everyone but him had to have known what was going on. They hadn't been shy, often spending nights together in public while Landell wrestled all over the country, but he didn't much care.


She didn't want to tell him who it was at first. That he remembered clearly. She had come home late, probably after 1 A.M., but he couldn't be sure. She walked confidently into the living room, where she knew he'd be. Her arms weren't folded across her chest like they usually were when she talked to him. That, too, he remembered clearly.

"Michael," she began, speaking a tone similar to that of a reprimanding middle school teacher. "We need to talk."

She surveyed the coffee table: beer bottles, an ashtray with several pack's worth of cigarettes stacked and overflowing. His eyes were glossy, but he was sober enough to understand what conversation she wanted to have.

"Who is he". He had hoped his voice would be clear, but he slurred slightly. Sure, she didn't ask for a divorce. Didn't have to. He knew. Lauren didn't want to respond. "Who is he, Lauren?"

"That's not important."

She spoke crisply, business like. He rose from the couch, and the confidence drained from her face. He had never hit her, let that be clear. That's not to say that there is not something intimidating about a 6'3" 260 pound man who's had more than a few drinks making his way toward you. He stumbled slightly, planting a palm on the coffee table to steady himself. He sauntered toward her. She stood her ground, her knees felt weak.

"Michael, listen, it's best for both of us. You know that," she began, her voice quickening as he closed the distance. "It's the only way."

He was close then. Two inches from her face. He was breathing heavily, the alcohol burning her eyes. He waited, a dumb alcoholic look on his face. He shook his head slowly. It was too late for the Hollywood forgiveness scene. He wouldn't be trying to fix his marriage this night.

Fuck it.

They had only talked once after that night, the rest of the conversations held between lawyers speaking on their behalf. Between the child support and alimony, he was forced back into the only profession he knew. Years of painstakingly planning retirement and living notoriously frugally on the road had went to waste. Now here he was, back at square one.

He later found out the other guy was a dentist - the family dentist, in fact. He had filled a cavity for Landell... hell, apparently for his wife, too.

Back to the present...

A man in an off-brown suit makes his way over to where Landell sits, staring into nothing, remembering the events that led to this unfortunate career. The man has a cigar, unlit, hanging from his mouth, the end chewed horribly. The man reeked of Wal Mart cologne and bourbon. He spoke quickly, thick Midwestern accent. His hands constantly moved, eyes constantly darted. The man couldn't focus on one thing for more than a second.

"Mikey, my boy," he fired. "How's my number one guy?"

"I'm 52, sitting in a high school locker room in Ames," He took a long swig from the beer on the floor at his feet. "Living the dream, Jens."

Jens Erichsen. There was a piece of shit like him in every locker room on every indy show in wrestling around the country. He put the boys up the cheapest hotels, paid them half of what they were promised and was constantly blowing smoke up your ass - business as usual in this carny show.

"That's what I always liked about you, Mikey. You could always make me laugh!" He took the cigar from his mouth, eyed it for a few seconds. "I'm gonna miss it, Mikey. With you leaving us and all."

That was rich. Leaving "us". Like this was some big fucking happy family. Landell looked around him, eyeing the land of misfit toys they were calling a roster. A locker room full of people who were convinced that they were going to make it to the big leagues but never would. Skinny young kids with hair too long and acne that defied logic mixed with fat has beens, guys with face paint, guys with glitter, guys with million dollar bodies and 5 watt brains - nobodies.

"Business is business," Landell responded. "I'm looking to retire... again."

"You and me both, brother!"

He laughed. Landell didn't.

"If it's all the same to you, Jens, I'd like to get the hell out of here."

"Of course, of course, my boy" Jens rummaged his hand through his pockets. He never could seem to find the payouts. "Ah!" he exclaimed, his hands coming to a stop in the breast pocket of his jacket. "Here we go."

He handed an envelope with "Shooter" scribbled across it. Jens clapped him on the shoulder, handed him the envelope and walked toward the door. Landell held the envelope up into the air for a moment, dropped his head and sighed.

"Jens." he called after him. Jens stopped, a frown formed on his lips. Landell hadn't seen it, but he knew it was there. "You and I both know this is light."

Jens waits several seconds and speaks with his back to Landell. "I know, brother. The gate wasn't what I was expecting tonight. You know I'd give you all of it if I had it, brother. That's the truth!"

Landell contemplated if it was worth the fight. It wasn't. He knew Jens had the money, but he also knew that DEFIANCE was going to be paying him far more than what this prick was.

"You're a piece of shit, Jens."

"And you, sir, are a gentleman."

Jens laughed once more and made his way out of the locker room. Landell chuckled briefly to himself.

"Fuckin' carnies."

Wrestler(s) Information
Ring Name: Shooter Landell
Height: 6'3"
Weight: 260 lb.

Hailing From: Council Bluffs, IA

Alignment: Face

Shooter Landell is a longtime journeyman wrestler with a noteworthy career spent mostly in the American South and Japan. With a legitimate background in judo and wrestling, Landell was known for his authentic in ring style which earned him his nickname. He had been on track to attend the University of Iowa on a full wrestling scholarship when his high school girlfriend became pregnant and he had to provide.

He had taken to working labor-intensive jobs, mainly in construction as a means to support his family. A chance encounter at a bar introduced Landell to the professional wrestling business, where he met a local promoter. This promoter assured Landell that he could make substantially more money in the professional wrestling business and convinced him to seek training. Debuting at 19, Landell quickly made a name for himself in the regional circuits, earning the nickname "Shooter" for his distinctive catch wrestling style. After several years of working locally, he received some interest from promotions in Japan and would spend the majority of his career touring with various wrestling companies there.

Landell had spent some time with major US companies but was never a mainstay, always finding more favor in Japan. After decades in the ring and being notoriously frugal, he was able to save up enough money for a comfortable retirement with his wife.

That plan had gone to shit, however, when his wife informed him that she was leaving him for the family dentist, with whom she'd been having an affair for a good portion of their marriage. The divorce dealt a significant blow to Landell's finances and he now finds himself in an unenviable position: he has spent a lifetime honing a craft he no longer cares for, but does not have any other opportunities to make the kind of money he needs to make in order to retire.

He returns to the only profession he's ever known: angry, bitter and hell bent on doing whatever it takes to get the money he needs to get away from everything and everyone.

Wrestling Style: Catch Wrestling with a healthy dose of brawling

Three Weaknesses:

  1. Age
  2. Stamina
  3. Myriad lingering injuries

Three Strengths:

  1. Experience
  2. Old Man Strength
  3. Grappling acumen


Ten regular moveset moves:

1) Short arm scissors
2) European uppercut
3) Gutwrench suplex
4) Backbreaker
5) Swinging neckbreaker
6) Russian leg sweep
7) Short arm clothesline
8) Belly to belly variants
9) Dragon screw
10) Saito suplex

2-5 trademark moves:

1) Stun Gun
2) STO (done with a more judo style. See: osoto gari without a gi)
3) Hip Throw (see: uchi mata no gi)
4) Spinebuster (Think AA)
5) Roaring Elbow

1 Finishing Move:
Carny Lock (Key lock variations - think kimura or americana from various positions. Side control, mount, guard, etc.)

1 "MDK" (murderdeathkill) Finishing Move (Rare Special Occasion Finisher) (Optional)
Murder STF (Very violent and wrenching STF)
Last edited:


Active member
Staff member
Feb 4, 2005
I dig the application, looks like a good solid character.

Yes from me.


New member
Aug 9, 2018
Thanks, guys. I appreciate you looking through the application.


UTA Hall of Famer and All-Around Nice Guy
Staff member
Jan 6, 2005
Los Angeles, CA, formerly PA
That's four yes votes, so you're in. Private message either myself or bwade, preferably both, and we will get you set up.

Highly recommend getting Skype to join the group chat, if you do, let us know your user name and we'll get that process going as well.

Welcome to the Faithful.

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