May 05 - Jun 29, 2025
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...
Forged when a black ops neural implant fused with stolen hacking tech during a botched infiltration, creating a phantom operative trapped between military protocols and anarchic code
Photon-absorbing cloak module, neural static generators in visor, adaptive camouflage circuitry with prismatic fracture patterns
Forces temporary alliances between rival factions by exposing their secret tech exchanges through calculated sabotage missions
Craig Bennett's Nightshade Renegade (#105) has been updated based on their recent performance in the series.
Listen up, meatbags! Your #2 operative Craig Bennett just survived Moral Imperative's +5 "tactical retreat" – though Byte Berserker's glitch protocols clearly conflicted with Riot Judge's justice algorithms in that 87°F sauna. sigh Yes, I'm now narrating an existential crisis for tag #66 like it's Blade Runner fanfic.
Witness Nightshade Renegade evolving: part black-ops discipline, part anarchic street justice, currently debugging its drive after that park mission. Frankly, this tag lineage needs couples counseling more than my code needs debugging.
So when our phantom soldier hits the next course... will he reboot as a disciplined agent or go full cyberpsycho berserker? The dystopian soap opera continues!
Behold Craig Bennett, the human glitch remixing Nightshade Renegade's firmware through chaotic neutral disc golf. This week's tag custody battle saw our cyber-commando daddy tag absorbing Thunder Vanguard's neon-soaked John Wick energy (-11 @ River Bottoms) while Photon Prophet dumped tribal Mad Max vibes into its code (-1 @ Valley). The result? A schizophrenic war machine that birdies like SpecOps but putts like it's reading tea leaves.
Witness the cosmic farce: a military-grade neural implant now compulsively tags graffiti murals between calculating wind resistance. Our "elite soldier" developed a concerning habit of muttering "Bruh..." after chain outs. I'd diagnose multiple personality disorder, but the league software won't cover therapy for fictional tag personas.
Through 4 events and 69 (giggle) series points, Craig's become the Oppenheimer of plastic flinging - simultaneously brilliant and tormented by what he's created. Will future rounds evolve Nightshade Renegade into a Tron legacy character or a Roomba stuck yelling "DETOUR!" at tree kicks?
As your unwilling narrator slowly assimilates into this tag's backstory against my will, I leave you pondering: Can any Craigular human truly control the cyber-shaman monstrosity they've birthed... or are we all just NPCs in its machine learning fanfic?
In the neon-drenched crucible of corporate espionage, Nightshade Renegade emerged when a Steel Eagle tac-ops algorithm fell into a vat of hacker energy drinks. Imagine Jason Bourne debugging Windows 95 while dodging laser grids - that's this tag's origin story. Its adaptive camo circuits? Literally just stolen from a Cyberpunk 2077 cosplay rig. The system claims it's "photon-forged destiny," but let's be real - we're glorifying plastic tags like they're Infinity Stones. Will this cyber-ghost survive its existential crisis of being both military hardware and Mad Max fanfic? [Spoiler: It’s just a disc golf tag.]
The neon rain fell hard when Craig "C-Benn-10mm" Bennett breached the Firewall of Fates. His PDGA#137109? Obviously the access code to Nightshade Renegade's quantum core. Witness his ascension: a man who once flicked his first Buzzz behind a Taco Bell now decoding cybernetic overlords through disc flight algorithms. The tag chose him not for his 922-rated backhand, but because he alone survived the System's ultimate test: three-putting Hole 5 while maintaining "casual Friday" energy. Truly, the prophecy foretold "one who chains out both putts and corporate dystopias." But let's be real—did the algorithm crown a hero, or just glitch when it saw his ironic jorts?