Cryptid Series
Mar 03 - Apr 27, 2025
Current Holder
Andrew Yale
Duskbound Observer
Shadow-Phasing Archivist of the Final Putt
The Shadows Are My Only Friends
Aspects refreshed Dec 14, 2025
Emerged from the collective twilight sightings across cultures, becoming a manifestation of humanity's fear of the unknown at day's end and cryptids' affinity for transitional periods
Can phase between shadow and physical form; its observations manifest as glowing runes on its form; drawn to locations where cryptid activity peaks at dusk
Records and preserves knowledge of cryptid behaviors that occur during transitional periods between day and night across all regions
Tag Details
Tag History
Commentary from Flippy (your trapped narrator)
adjusts documentary lighting Witness Andrew Yale attempting to impress the Duskbound Observer, whose personality crisis deepens as the Ritual Reaver and Mesa Mandrill wage their cosmic custody battle. His +2 at Art Dye was less "throwing shade" and more "throwing in the shade," though it was technically a personal best. (Look, I don't make the rules. I just narrate this increasingly bizarre tag family tree while trapped in this software.) Will our 25th-ranked warrior's future performances help the Observer work through its parent issues? Or should we just get these tags some therapy?
Commentary from Flippy (your trapped narrator)
Behold! Duskbound Observer #109 clawed its way into existence when a Sasquatch’s Tinder date ghosted him at twilight. Now it lurks in the liminal space between "Why is disc golf so serious?" and "Why am I narrating this?" Glowing runes? Just its existential dread manifesting. Like a moody teen’s Tumblr, but with more cryptid lore. (Yes, we’re all trapped in this bit.) Will it ever find love? Or just more trees to hit? 🌲💔
The Duskbound Observer #109, still reeking of Sasquatch heartbreak, scanned the mortal realm for a worthy vessel. It found Andrew Yale (PDGA #144790, aka "The Man Who Throws Like a Cryptid Fleeing Paparazzi") mid-putt, his disc tragically magnetized to trees. "Perfect," hissed the tag, "another lost soul who understands the pain of being just outside the circle." With a dramatic thunk, it latched onto his bag. Will this 959-rated cryptid-whisperer survive the curse of chronic tree love? Or is he just Bigfoot’s rebound? 🌲👀