Like many in the pro-wrestling community the first time I ever saw Bray Wyatt was when he debuted on the main roster, Luke Harper and Erik Rowan at his side. I then watched, over the next several months, as this transfixing character grabbed hold of the hearts and minds of the audience. Everything he did intoxicated us. I particularly remember his unnerving renditions of “He’s got the whole world in his hands…” and the crowd singing it back in unison. Bray’s entrance music was distinct and eerie in a soup of mediocre rock riffs. He seemed to glide to the ring as his fireflies - wrestling fans with their cell phone flashlights turned on in the dark - guided him toward the ring. That use of technology, the natural evolution of holding a lighter up, was a literal manifestation of the metaphorical relationship between character and fan.

All the elements were there for a monstrously successful character who effectively straddled the line between good and evil, babyface and heel.

But one too many meandering promos and one too many major loses resulted in Bray Wyatt, the swampy cult leader, burning out.

Everything that had once been great about the character now felt like a cruel joke. The prevailing sentiment was that WWE had squandered their fresh talent, sacrificing one of the next generation’s touchstones to the altar of same-old, same-old.

There are an assortment of reasons things turned sour for this iteration of Wyatt, but the primary one is that he never seemed to win, especially when the stakes were highest. His inability to win rendered his lengthy arguments and diatribes meaningless. It didn’t matter what he was saying if he couldn’t put the final punctuation on his ideas with a solid victory. He couldn’t say, “I won”, proving himself right, and thereby proving the fans right for placing their faith in him. If he did happen to win, it usually occurred within the confines of something silly, something that seemed to mock the seriousness of the character like a “Miracle On 34th Street Fight”.

And so the fans lost faith in the character because they could sense WWE had given up on him as a main event prospect.

One of the lowest of several low points would take place at WrestleMania 32 where The Rock dismantled Wyatt’s aura in a promo and then dispatched Erik Rowan in six seconds.

The Wyatt Family had gone from a main event act to a sideshow punchline, food for a far bigger star.

It never seemed entirely clear why the Wyatt character couldn’t sustain momentum (or wasn’t allowed to). He was clearly talented and interesting, but something was always missing. Is that missing ingredient as simple as “bad booking”? Some will say so, and they wouldn’t be entirely wrong.

But I’d contend that “something missing” was empathy. As a cult leader, The Eater of Worlds, Wyatt was interesting, fun to watch & listen to. He had unique catchphrases and an undeniable connection with the audience as evidenced by sing alongs and cell phone flashlights. But Bray Wyatt wasn’t human. I don’t mean that in the narrative sense (I’m not saying he was a monster), I mean that in the real sense. There weren’t flaws, hopes, and dreams to connect to - only sights and sounds that were cool. Put another way, despite all those twisty turny promos designed to build character, the act was superficial. Not bad, by any means. Booked better, win more, and it world work. But despite all the pomp and circumstance there wasn’t much there…there.

And that brings us to The Fiend.

The Fiend is Bray Wyatt’s answer to the following question, “What happens to someone when you squander their potential.”

The character is the symbolic representation of every bad booking decision and the toll those decisions took on Wyatt. He had to transform himself into a nightmare in order to cope with his pain. Wyatt is to be applauded for the imagery and symbolism his characters create, transforming simple words like “Hurt” and “Heal” into glimpses into his psyche. The Fiend didn’t come alone, however. Wyatt also returned as the deranged host of the “kid’s show” The Firefly Funhouse. This wholesome gimmick existed in stark contrast to The Fiend, allowing Wyatt to flex his creative muscles further than before.

It’s difficult to sum up exactly how exciting (and “over”) The Firefly Funhouse segments were. They were overflowing with creativity, grim humor, and subtle insights into Wyatt’s mind. WWE seemed to be having fun, a first in years. And that makes what came next even more painful.

Much like Bray Wyatt, The Fiend earned a groundswell of support. He was the most “over” character in WWE at the time. This put him on a collision course with then Universal Champion, Seth Rollins.

On October 6th, 2019 they faced each other in a maligned Hell in a Cell match which ended due to referee stoppage after Rollins buried The Fiend under a ladder and chairs and hit him in the head with a sledgehammer. The scene was meant to mimic something out of a horror film, where the antagonist is indestructible. It was a bridge too far for wrestling fans. They had backed Wyatt, loudly and proudly, yet again, and yet again they were rewarded with a screwy finish that detracted from the character rather than preserved him. These creative decisions aren’t best described as “bad booking”. These creative decisions actively punish the wrestling fan for their emotional investment. That’s why the reaction to this Hell in a Cell match was so passionate and so universally negative. It insulted our collective intelligence.

At the core of people’s disappointment with Bray Wyatt’s booking, as cult leader and The Fiend alike, is a yearning to get on board with this character. Fans want to cheer him, and perhaps that’s where some of the disconnect lies between fan and WWE. The Fiend isn’t meant to be cheered, but what WWE often fails to recognize is that modern wrestling audiences don’t cheer or boo because a character is good or evil. The modern wrestling fan cheers if something is good and boos if something is bad, in terms of quality. Put another way, Bray Wyatt often gives a good performance and that’s why fans cheer him. He taps into our imaginations and inspires us to participate in his journey.

Up until now, WWE has served as a gate keeper between fans and Wyatt, choosing when, and when not to let us become one.

There’s a chance everything is about to change, for the better, for this character, though. While it may be foolish to have hope once more (fool me three times shame on all of us), the latest version of Bray Wyatt may be everything we’ve always loved about the character paired with a booker who is not put off by cheers that were originally intended to be boos.

To hype the new Bray Wyatt WWE began a brilliant viral marketing campaign, harnessing the power of social media to generate interest in the character. “White Rabbit” by Jefferson Airplane played at house shows and during commercial breaks, and fans would then share videos of darkened arenas, illuminated only by cell phones as the song reverberated. The resulting scenes are haunting. QR codes popped up on Raw and SmackDown episodes, leading to cryptic messages and odd games, all of this yet another example of how Bray Wyatt, the real person, activates the imaginations of fans as well as WWE creative.

Finally it was confirmed these messages were pointing the way to Bray. He returned at Extreme Rules on October 8th, 2022 (over a year since his release in July, 2021), saying to the camera, “I’m here” before the event cut to black.

The next time we’d see Bray would be at the October 14th episode of SmackDown where he’d cut a stirring promo not as the cult leader, not as the demonic clown, but as the most difficult character to play…himself.

“This is just me, being me, genuine for the first time.”

This choice, to not return as The Fiend or the cult leader, but rather as Bray Wyatt, the person, is brilliant. It gives Bray yet another creative muscle to flex while adding to his already weighty mythos. His nervous laughter, his cracking voice, and the occasional verbal stumble are all extensions of his humanity now, not the put ons of an over-acted gimmick.

Unlike prior iterations of the character this Bray is flawed and vulnerable, the exact opposite of The Fiend. If you burry this Bray under a pile of chairs and ladders it will hurt him. This is a wounded man attempting to right the wrongs of his past, first by giving thanks to all those fans who inspired him to keep going when he was at the end of his rope. It’s an inspired creative choice that breathes new life into the character. It also provides him a healthy foundation of empathy upon which to grow.

That empathy is the result of more than just a changed look, a new entrance theme, or a sense of humanity, though. Bray Wyatt, the cult leader, the kids show host, and The Fiend were all meant to be seen as complex, layered characters. Now, using the failings of those characters, this new Bray is fashioned out of something genuinely deep.

It wasn’t until I heard his promo at Crown Jewel that the character finally made sense to me. At long last, I fully understood and appreciated Bray Wyatt the character, and Bray Wyatt the performer. He begins his promo, “My name is Bray Wyatt”. A simple proclamation, but a significant one all the same. He’s saying “I am Bray Wyatt” which is also a way of saying, “I’m not The Fiend”.

He continues about how hard he tried to be great, that he “Gave in” and the more he gave in the more he “made a monster” out of himself.

“And I wore that mask with pride. And it didn’t take me long to understand that while I was wearing that mask I no longer felt pain. I no longer could be afraid. In the mask I was completely untouchable. And that type of thing…it feels good. Some might say sensations like that are just about impossible to quit. And that’s how I felt. I found myself in a kingdom of nothingness sitting on an island by myself and this monster I had made myself into. He destroyed me. And he ran off everyone that I’d ever loved. So there I sat alone. No one there to love me. Nowhere to run. Alone. That’s the thing, no one loves me. People love the idea of me. People love the things that I’m capable of. I don’t even love me. But this doesn’t have to be the ending of my story. That is not the man that I want to be remembered as. My name is Bray Wyatt. My name is Bray Wyatt. My name is Bray Wyatt and I’m here to rewrite the ending to my story.”

The repetition of “My name is…” as well as the words “sensation” and “quit” stuck out to me as I listened to Wyatt.

Then another cryptic video from Uncle Howdy played on the big screen. Uncle Howdy is an inspired choice of a name, evocative of The Firefly Funhouse bright yet grim tone.

Wyatt looked at the screen, stalked by this figure. Is it Wyatt himself? Is it his brother, Bo Dallas? Someone else entirely? No matter who it is, Uncle Howdy is the past, Bray’s demons, come to collect.

Then Uncle Howdy said, “The truth is you’re gonna go too far. You’re gonna give in” and that’s when everything clicked.

Bray Wyatt is a recovering addict.

Sure, his drug of choice was a clown mask, a cult leader’s bayou garb, but those “masks” provided “sensations that are just about impossible to quit” all the same. What we’re seeing is an addict trying to make amends and come to peace with his past. Uncle Howdy is that inevitable strain of doubt, hissing in the back of one’s skull, always nudging one to “give in” to the addiction. The character, seen through this lens, is confessing to the crowd, beginning his group session, “Hi my name is Bray Wyatt and…”

Do I think this is being done consciously? Not necessarily. I think the theme of addiction is purposefully present but the addiction is to crowd reactions and in-ring violence, not any one drug. Even so, the story works on several levels and will speak to wrestling fans who similarly struggle with addiction. The more general and subtle Bray’s story the better it will be, because more people will see themselves in him.

I myself was medicating with alcohol pretty heavily from about 2018 - June 16th, 2020 (when I quit). Then I had a psychotic breakdown August 1st, 2020. I came face to face with the devil inside my head and it was the worst, most terrifying experience of my life. When I found out I had bipolar I, things got easier. “My name is Tim and I have bipolar”. It became a part of me, allowing me to define and shape who I really am. I was put on anti-psychotics and anti-depressants. Lithium, the gold standard for treating bipolar, allowed me to return to something resembling normal. These drugs perform the function I thought alcohol performed - make me more myself. Mental illness functions similarly to addiction - in fact, the two often go hand in hand.

So I heard those familiar words in Bray’s promo and they lit up my brain. He was speaking to me and I was listening. Suddenly, I could empathize with this man. Finally, there was a deep character to get lost in.

Bray Wyatt became someone I can root for.

He’s not perfectly chiseled, his verbiage is sometimes erratic, he talks openly about his emotions, and he appears frazzled. That makes him unique. Where others strive for perfection, Bray is submerged in his imperfections. As he says, “I don’t even love myself”.

This makes me want to see him slay his demons. Uncle Howdy, who I initially dismissed as spooky nonsense, could be Wyatt’s greatest foe yet. There is hope for this character, far more than when he reinvented himself as The Fiend. Wyatt and WWE have taken the years of frustration and disappointment surrounding this character and turned it into compelling drama. The imagery inspired by the character is more beautiful than ever, his entrance a subtler glimpse into his state of mind - a blue-tinted lantern looking very much like the blue tinted cell phone lights buzzing around him. The song “Shatter” by Code Orange is an anthem appropriately suited to the epic emotional ground Wyatt covers.

Also, this Wyatt doesn’t have The Fiend’s problem of being an indestructible monster. This Wyatt, in very practical terms, can “sell”. We’ll be able to see his struggle play out in matches, eliciting an even stronger emotional response from fans.

Next, all that’s needed are some excellent matches and some high profile victories.

If the WWE gives us that, we’ll make Bray Wyatt into something more than a cult leader or a fiend.

We’ll make Bray Wyatt a hero.

Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed this article check out some others. You should also subscribe to my podcast The Work Of Wrestling (available wherever you get your pods). If you’d like to support me subscribe to my Patreon and you’ll get exclusive content every month. If you’re in need of a new wrestling tee-shirt visit my store at Pro-Wrestling Tees. Thank you again. May the Moment of Pop be with you!

His Name Is Bray Wyatt And He's A Hero In The Making