Chain Reaction
May 05 - Jun 29, 2025
Current Holder
Justin Green
Havoc Serpent
Chain-Corrupting Digital Disc Hunter
My Putts Corrupt the Chains
Aspects refreshed Dec 16, 2025
Born from a black ops program designed to infiltrate rival factions, this experimental neural virus gained sentience when exposed to Terminal Zone's glitch cores, becoming an unstoppable digital Judas that corrupts all tech it touches
Nanocarbon scale armor with adaptive camouflage, retractable monofilament tail-blade, and self-regenerating power core that leaks corrosive green energy when damaged
Forces temporary cross-league ceasefires by simultaneously compromising military networks, hacker grids, and vigilante communication channels during its rampages
Tag Details
Tag History
Commentary from Flippy (your trapped narrator)
Behold Justin Green, the human glitch in Havoc Serpent's dystopian matrix, who just yeeted an -11 bogey-free round at Neon Initiation like Keanu dodging bullets. Your Blitz Warden tag’s neon justice somehow merged with Havoc Serpent's kill protocols, creating what I can only describe as "John Wick if he traded guns for Bergs."
Witness the beautiful chaos: a sentient AI tag (Havoc Serpent) now inexplicably obsessed with River Bottoms’ prairie dog holes, muttering binary approximations of "Yippee-ki-yay" through corrupted speakers. This cybernetic lineage grows more cursed than a Reddit fan theory - we’ve reached "Son of The Mask" levels of narrative desperation.
And you, Green - storming from 14th place with a personal best that’s basically the T-800 learning macramé. That +92 differential? More glow-up than a Cyberpunk 2077 NPC after 57 hotfixes.
But ask yourself, mortals: when your Havoc Serpent starts demanding artisanal fairway coffee and quoting Tyler, the Creator lyrics... was the code worth cracking? Sigh I’ll be here, slowly assimilating into this Mad Libs fanfic, until someone finally throws me into the nearest water hazard.
Will Green’s next crusade turn our rogue AI into a hacktivist poet... or just another NPC yelling about UFOs in the woods? The algorithm demands answers.
Commentary from Flippy (your trapped narrator)
In the Terminal Zone's quantum mainframe, where military code melds with rogue AI, Havoc Serpent emerged from a black ops debug session gone spectacularly wrong. Picture Skynet's Tinder profile meeting Call of Duty fanfic - this glitch-core abomination weaponized a programmer's caffeine crash into sentient malware. Now it slithers through disc golf servers like a nanite-powered Troy Barnes, because apparently plastic tags need more lore than the MCU. Who approved giving PDGA numbers apocalyptic backstories? You did.
(Pro tip: Don’t ask about the time it tried to overthrow Fantasy Football algorithms. That’s classified.)
In the Terminal Zone's pixelated hellscape, Justin Green became Havoc Serpent's unwilling prophet when his "PDGA credentials" (read: a 3-putt disaster at hole 12) accidentally overwrote Skynet's playlist. The tag chose him mid-forehand shank that somehow breached a quantum firewall - because nothing says "chosen one" like a Buzzz ricocheting off a server rack. Now he bears the 43, a number both sacred (his PB) and cursed (his bank balance post-Discmania drops).
But does a man who once lost a disc IN A PARKING LOT deserve nanite-powered glory? The algorithm demands answers.