Unmasking the Future: Why a Modern WWE × Scooby-Doo Movie Works

Scooby-Doo crossing paths with wrestling isn’t new — and that’s precisely why this idea works.

Scooby-Doo has already proven that wrestling’s world of spectacle, personas, and theatrical mystery fits its format. The exaggerated characters, the masks, the drama, the larger-than-life energy — it all aligns naturally. What makes this idea exciting isn’t novelty, but timing.

This wouldn’t be about repeating what’s been done before.

It would be about updating the crossover for the current era of WWE, with today’s biggest stars and a mystery that feels sharper, more intentional, and rooted in performance rather than parody.

I’ll be upfront: I’ve only been watching wrestling for just over two years. But in that short time, I’ve come to see it less as a sport and more as storytelling — something Scooby-Doo has always understood instinctively.

That perspective is shaped by the fact that my partner is a professional wrestler. Seeing wrestling both as an audience member and through the reality of what goes on behind the scenes has completely changed how I understand it. Wrestling, like Scooby-Doo, is about illusion, timing, personas, and what happens when the curtain gets pulled back.

Which is why this crossover doesn’t feel forced — it feels obvious.

The Movie Concept

This would be an animated WWE × Scooby-Doo movie, centred on a major live event at a historic arena reopening after years of closure.

The building isn’t “haunted” in the traditional sense. It has history. Accidents. Disputes. Moments that people would rather forget.

During rehearsals, strange things begin happening:

• entrances triggering without performers

• lighting cues firing at the wrong moments

• production audio bleeding through empty corridors

• archival footage glitching or cutting out

The show is at risk. Wrestlers begin pulling out. Rumours spread. Mystery Inc. stays to investigate.

The Villain: The Forgotten Phenom

The figure stalking the arena becomes known as The Forgotten Phenom.

At first glance, everyone assumes the same thing: a disgraced wrestler, a lost legend, someone erased from history and back for revenge. The costume feeds into that myth — dramatic, imposing, designed to suggest importance and legacy.

But that assumption is wrong.

When the mask comes off, The Forgotten Phenom isn’t a wrestler at all.

They’re a former event coordinator.

Someone who planned major shows, timed entrances, managed lighting, sound, and logistics — the person who made the night work. Invisible when things went right. Blamed when something went wrong. Eventually pushed out and quietly erased from the company’s history.

Their motive isn’t cruelty or greed — it’s resentment.

“They remember the matches.

They remember the stars.

They forgot the person who made it happen.”

The sabotage is precise:

• mistimed cues

• corrupted footage

• systems turning against the show itself

The arena becomes the weapon — not because it’s haunted, but because someone knows it better than anyone else ever did.

It’s classic Scooby logic, just updated for a modern setting.

The WWE Cast (Intentional, Not Overcrowded)

This story works best with a focused cast — not endless cameos.

• Roman Reigns as the calm authority figure — the headliner whose presence raises the stakes without needing explanation.

• Rhea Ripley as the intimidating but perceptive ally — visually suspect, emotionally grounded, unfazed by the chaos.

• Jimmy & Jey Uso as the red-herring duo — always nearby when something goes wrong, always laughing it off, always accused.

• Becky Lynch as the sceptic — sharp, observant, and immediately aligned with Velma’s way of thinking.

Optionally, a legend like The Undertaker exists only as atmosphere — a rumour tied to the arena’s past, never confirmed, never involved.

The wrestlers aren’t villains. They’re part of the world — suspects, helpers, distractions, and anchors.

Why This Version Works

Scooby-Doo has always been about unmasking the truth behind spectacle.

Wrestling thrives on spectacle — but it also understands what happens when the curtain is pulled back. That’s the shared language. This story doesn’t mock wrestling or turn performers into punchlines. It treats wrestling as performance, storytelling, and illusion — the same way Scooby always has.

The fear doesn’t come from ghosts.

It comes from control.

From someone who knows exactly how the show is supposed to run — and how to break it.

Final Thoughts

This isn’t about doing another wrestling crossover. It’s about doing one that feels current.

Scooby-Doo has survived for decades because it adapts without losing its core. A modern WWE × Scooby-Doo movie would reflect what wrestling looks like now: theatrical, character-driven, and built on moments that feel bigger than life — until someone pulls the mask off.

And in a franchise about revealing the truth behind performance…

A wrestling arena might be the perfect place for Scooby to be.

Stay groovy — and keep unmasking.

Why the live-action Scooby-doo movies should have been a LEGO game

Every time I rewatch the live action Scooby-doo (2002) or Scooby-Doo 2: monsters unleashed, I can’t help thinking the same thing:

These movies were never meant to be realistic.

They were colourful, chaotic, exaggerated and packed with a physical comedy- the kind that feels just slightly too cartoonish for live action. And that’s why they would have worked perfectly as a LEGO game.

Not just one game either- a two part LEGO Scooby-Doo game, adapting both live-action films into a single, connected experience like they did with the LEGO pirates of the Caribbean game and the Jurassic Park/world game.

The first Scooby-Doo movie already feels structured like a LEGO game. You’ve got a central hub location, clearly defined character abilities, slapstick humour, and villains that lean into spectacle rather than subtlety. Spooky Island practically begs to be explored level by level, brick by brick.

In a LEGO format, the exaggerated tone wouldn’t feel awkward- it would feel intentional. LEGO thrives on chaos, visual gags and playful destruction. The things that sometimes feel “too much” in the live action movie would suddenly make sense.

A LEGO version of Scooby-Doo the movie could centre entirely around Spooky Island as a hub world. The hotel, the jungle paths, the underground lair- all unlocked gradually as the mystery unfolds. characters would switch freely, puzzles would require teamwork, and classic LEGO mechanics could translate Scooby perfectly.

Shaggy and Scooby could sneak through levels to unlock hidden areas.

Velma is solving logic-based puzzles

Daphne is using agility and gadgets.

Fred is building and breaking structures to curate traps to progress.

It’s already there- the movie just never let it be a game.

Then comes monsters Unleashed, which honestly feels like it was written with LEGO in mind.

Multiple classic monsters are returning.

City-wide chaos.

Escalating set pieces.

A bigger, brighter, louder threat.

This is where the second half of the game would shine. Instead of a single island, you’d get multiple locations- museums, streets and warehouses, each overrun by familiar Scooby villains reimagined in LEGO form. The joy wouldn’t just be from stopping them, but recognising them.

LEGO games are at their best when they let players play through nostalgia, and Monsters Unleashed is already doing that narratively.

What really makes this idea work is that LEGO allows Scooby-Do to be silly without losing its heart.

The franchise has always balanced spooky imagery with humour. LEGO understands that balance instinctively. Jokes land without undercutting the stakes. Scary things are still frightening- just in a way that’s accessible, Playful and clever.

And crucially, LEGO games reward exploration, Scooby-Doo has always been about poking around places you’re not supposed to be, finding hidden passages and accidentally triggering chaos. That loop fits perfectly with LEGO’s design philosophy.

A two-part LEGO Scooby-Doo game would also solve one of the most significant issues with the live-action films: tone.

Instead of trying to straddle realism and cartoon logic, the LEGO format would fully embrace exaggeration. No one questions why characters survive ridiculous falls or why monsters behave theatrically in LEGO games- it’s part of the language. Scooby-Doo belongs in that space.

More than anything, this feels like a missed opportunity.

The live- actions weren’t failures at all in my opinion and are a crucial part to 90s and 00’s childhood. I believe that the energy, humour and visual chaos in the movie would have thrived as a LEGO game. The mystery would still matter and the comedy would have another format it deserved.

Sometimes unmasking the future means realising the answer was always there- just built out of bricks instead of flesh and blood.

Stay groovy- and keep unmasking.