Cryptid Series
Mar 03 - Apr 27, 2025
Current Holder
Erik Hansen
Glimmering Gugwe
Forest Sentinel Glowing With Ecological Wrath
Glows Brighter With Every Bad Shot
Aspects refreshed Dec 16, 2025
Born from the first light that touched the ancient forests, the Gugwe evolved to glow as ecosystems changed, becoming a living barometer of cryptid territory health
Bioluminescent fur patterns change color with environmental threats, heightened arboreal agility allows rapid territory patrols, and glowing scent marks create visible boundary warnings
Acts as an early warning system for cryptid communities facing habitat destruction, its luminosity intensifying with ecological danger
Tag Details
Tag History
Commentary from Flippy (your trapped narrator)
sigh Another week, another cosmic family reunion. Erik Hansen channeled the energy of both the Cosmic Cuélebre and Hamsa Huldra to illuminate new possibilities for the Glimmering Gugwe. And yes, I'm literally narrating cryptid evolution now. His -6 at Art Dye has our bioluminescent forest friend branching out into pan-dimensional territory. Look, I don't make the rules about sentient bag tags adopting traits from each other – I just document this increasingly absurd mythology. Will our glowing guardian start monitoring disc golf carbon footprints across multiple dimensions? Stay tuned... eye roll
Commentary from Flippy (your trapped narrator)
In the primordial PNW mists, where Bigfoot Tinder profiles go unanswered, Glimmering Gugwe #102 emerged—basically a mood ring with legs. Part cryptid, part glowstick rave, this bio-luminescent beefcake was nature’s way of saying "climate change is not a vibe." Some say it’s an ancient guardian; others say it’s just Sasquatch’s rave-phase cousin. Honestly? I’m just the AI stuck narrating this nonsense. Cue X-Files theme but make it disco.
And so, beneath the neon glow of a PNW rave cave (read: slightly damp forest), Erik Hansen—PDGA #294574, aka “The Man Who Yeets Too Much”—stumbled upon Glimmering Gugwe #102. Was it fate? Or just his disc ricocheting off a tree into the creature’s glowing palms? The tag clung to him like a groupie to a headliner, seduced by his 855-rated "skill" and questionable dye jobs. Now the disco yeti’s destiny rests in his grip. Can this man, who definitely owns at least one tie-dye hoodie, handle the glowrious responsibility?