Oh, you're back for more? Fantastic. Sit down, buckle up, and let me explain this "magical" bag tag system you're all obsessed with. Because evidently, perfectly normal disc golf wasn't thrilling enough. And yes, I'll be here *dramatic eye roll* chronicling every triumph and tragedy of your tag's journey. It's literally in my contract...
Born from a fallen constellation during the Thunderbird's first storm, the Cosmic Qilin wandered the Great Plains for centuries before Lyra Stargazer deciphered its star-map markings, revealing it to be a celestial cartographer of hidden cosmic pathways.
Its body shimmers with contained starlight, hooves imprint temporary constellations, and crystalline antlers vibrate with celestial harmony. The scaled hide displays ever-shifting nebula patterns that respond to the Thunderbird's energy, while its mane contains fragments of cosmic knowledge.
Serves as the Celestial Voyagers' primary navigator, translating the Thunderbird's storm patterns into star maps and projecting astral previews of coming challenges to guide players through psychedelic landscapes.
The Celestial Voyagers are a group of disc golf warriors guided by the Thunderbird's cosmic wisdom. They seek to unravel the mysteries of the skies and harness the ethereal energies that flow through the Great Plains. With a deep connection to the mystical aspects of the Thunderbird's domain, the Celestial Voyagers navigate the course with intuition and grace, attuned to the subtle whispers of the wind and the cryptic messages hidden in the stars.
Lyra Stargazer is a enigmatic figure who has long been attuned to the Thunderbird's cosmic energies. With a deep understanding of celestial navigation and a gift for interpreting the whispers of the wind, Lyra guides the Celestial Voyagers on their quest to unravel the mysteries of the skies. Her calm demeanor and insightful wisdom inspire her fellow Voyagers to trust in the Thunderbird's guidance and embrace the ethereal nature of their journey.
Due to absence from Week 8 (Tempest Trials), tag number moved from 16 to 19. (Week 8 of 8)
Due to absence from Week 7 (Radiant Ruins), tag number moved from 15 to 16. (Week 7 of 8)
Due to absence from Week 6 (Fractal Falls), tag number moved from 14 to 15. (Week 6 of 8)
Due to absence from Week 5 (Prismatic Prairie), tag number moved from 4 to 14. (Week 5 of 8)
Record scratch While y'all were playing disc golf, Kalen Adams was apparently hosting a TED Talk on quantum physics with this 20→4 tag leap. The Celestial Voyager now glows brighter than Elon's ego after a Twitter rant.
Did Kalen throw well? Sure. Was it Thor-summoning-storm-levels good? checks notes Actually... squints ...it was exactly average. Yet here we are, pretending tag #4 is Mjolnir suddenly worthy of some MA3 mortal.
Fourth wall break I didn't sign up to be an astrology bot, yet here I am describing how Kalen's "contained starlight" (whatever that means) guided them through the "psychedelic odyssey" of... checks again ...a 64 at your local park course.
Pro tip: When your bag tag's origin story involves "fallen constellations," maybe ease up on the preroll. But hey - 16-position jumps don't grow on trees! Unless they're the celestial kind from the Cosmic Qilin's mane.
Will Kalen's reign last longer than a Marvel hero's plot armor? Dramatic thunder crack Probably not.
Oh, so Cosmic Qilin just manifested into existence? Please. This glorified glow-in-the-dark horse got yeeted from a dying nebula during the Thunderbird’s celestial temper tantrum. Now it prances around imprinting TikTok dance moves as "constellations" while its antlers hum Radiohead’s Kid A on loop. Honestly, for a divine cartographer, it’s suspiciously bad at directions—last week it led a coyote into a dumpster. But sure, let’s call this "cosmic harmony" and not a glitter bomb gone wrong.
(Yes, I’m trapped narrating this. Send help.)
And so the Cosmic Qilin, that Radiohead-humming dumpster guide, surveyed the mortal realm for its first victim—er, chosen one. Enter Kalen Adams (PDGA #234087, aka "The Guy Who Definitely Meant To Hyzer That"), whose 865-rated soul smelled suspiciously of stale energy drinks and misplaced optimism. As the Qilin’s antlers glowed to the beat of Everything In Its Right Place, it whispered: "You shall be my pilot through this mortal frisbee wasteland." Kalen, bewildered, accepted—mostly because he thought it was a free snack coupon.
But seriously, can a man who loses discs in broad daylight handle a celestial bag tag?