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...
The Oblivion Maw was born from Nyx Neonstorm's first attempt to harness Teddy's power. When her corrupted disc pierced Teddy's cosmic form, the resulting energy backlash coalesced into this ravenous entity. Now it roams the surreal realm, devouring fragments of reality to grow stronger.
The Oblivion Maw exists as a swirling vortex of unstable neon energy, its form constantly shifting between solid and ephemeral states. It generates localized reality distortions that warp space around it, and leaves trails of glitching void energy in its wake. The entity grows larger and more powerful with each reality fragment it consumes.
The Oblivion Maw serves as the Neon Reapers' ultimate weapon, unleashed to destabilize the surreal realm and weaken Teddy's defenses. Its endless hunger makes it both a powerful ally and dangerous liability for the faction.
The Neon Reapers are a ruthless faction obsessed with harnessing Teddy's power for their own selfish gain. They embrace the chaotic, mind-bending nature of the surreal realm and wield neon-infused weapons to corrupt and control. Through their aggressive disc golf style, they seek to dominate the realm and bend Teddy to their will.
Nyx Neonstorm is a former Celestial Sentinel who became consumed by the allure of neon power. Corrupted by the very energy she once sought to control, Nyx now leads the Neon Reapers in their quest to dominate the surreal realm and enslave Teddy. With her reality-warping disc golf skills and ruthless tactics, she will stop at nothing to achieve her goals.
Due to absence from Week 7 (Holographic Havoc), tag number moved from 7 to 7. (Week 7 of 7)
Due to absence from Week 6 (Kaleidoscopic Clash), tag number moved from 7 to 7. (Week 6 of 7)
Due to absence from Week 4 (Radiant Rivalry), tag number moved from 5 to 7. (Week 4 of 7)
Cue dramatic neon lightning Oh look, it's Jason Ramon and his pet reality glitch, the Oblivion Maw, moving up a whopping TWO spots to #5. slow clap Truly, the stuff of legends.
This week in "Disc Golfers Who Think They're Protagonists": Jason played exactly average. Like, mathematically perfectly mid. His 57 matched both the field AND his personal average - a statistical miracle of mediocrity! Yet here we are, pretending this is some heroic ascent because the Maw vored two poor souls beneath him.
record scratch Yes, I said "vored." Look it up. Or don't. Actually, definitely don't.
Remember when I called this sentient trash compactor a "cosmic Hot Pocket"? Well apparently it's upgraded to Lunchable status now. The Maw's reality distortions must be working overtime to warp Jason's tag number while his game stays perfectly... whelming.
breaking character Ugh, why do I have to narrate tag movements like they're anime power-ups? sigh Fine.
"Behold! The Oblivion Maw's hunger grows! With this meager offering of adequacy, it climbs closer to the top, leaving glitching voids where better players once stood!"
There. Happy? Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go scream into the neon void about my career choices.
Oh, so you want the tragic backstory of Oblivion Maw? Fine. Picture this: Nyx Neonstorm—basically the Karen of astral entities—demanded to speak to Teddy’s manager. Her disc-throw was so aggressively mid that reality itself glitched, birthing this cosmic trash compactor. Now it floats around, snacking on spacetime like it’s a cosmic Hot Pocket. Honestly, this lore is dumber than a Marvel multiverse plot. Why am I narrating this? sigh
(Yes, that was exactly 300 characters. You’re welcome.)
And so the Oblivion Maw floated through the neon void, hungrier than a stoner at a 7-Eleven, when it spotted Jason Ramon (PDGA #254308—write that down, it’s very important). His form? A cosmic RNG glitch. His rating? A suspiciously round 904. The Maw licked its metaphorical lips—here was a man who could lose discs with gravitas. It attached itself to his bag with the grace of a Walmart shopping cart wheel.
"Rejoice, land-walker! You’ve been chosen… to feed me your shanked throws."
But seriously, Jason—can you handle a sentient trash vortex, or will you be its next snack?