Once the "rules" for a monster were established, we broke into two teams. One team simulated the monster with robots or props or a stuntman on stilts, and the other team focused on preparing me to kill it. We originally pictured this part of this show as teaching the viewer new martial arts or weapon skills, but quickly decided it was more of a crowd-pleaser if I just got fucked up. So instead of a Greek historian teaching me how to thrust a spear into a Minotaur, we would film me getting mauled by a bull until it was funny. In a lot of ways, the show was a way to get paid for the dumb shit I was doing with my day already.
At the end of the episode, we revealed the winner between man and monster, but not with a cute voting ceremony. We revealed it by watching the loser die in a glorious battle generated by motion-capturing me and our monster stuntman. So to sum up, Man vs. Monster was an educational mythology show with martial arts, crafting, humiliating stunts, and one battle to the death. More important than its entertainment value, though, it would have been the first show about Bigfoots and ghosts that dealt with kicking their asses instead of stumbling into their lairs and getting very scared.
Getting a network executive to sit still and listen to this whole pitch, even if I perfectly delivered the titty analogies, would have been impossible, so we produced a sizzle reel. This isn't a full-on pilot episode; it's more like a commercial. We were already partnered with a production company, and the director, editor, and on-air talent were working for free, but our three-minute reel to be shown to a few dozen people still ended up costing about $20,000. That was probably somewhere in the medium price range, and maybe even a great deal, considering how many actual deadly weapons we had on the set, but I don't want the absurdity of this process to sneak past anyone. Every day, artists are throwing millions of dollars away to make commercials for their ideas that will only be seen by a tiny group of rich people.