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...
A former lone scavenger who became living legend by reactivating an ancient power grid during a tribal siege, now wields salvaged energy technology as both weapon and bargaining chip in wasteland negotiations.
Carries plasma lash weapon that adapts to enemy defenses, wears self-repairing armor woven from solar-reactive materials, possesses enhanced vision detecting energy signatures, and interfaces with ancient systems through tribal neural ports.
Mobile envoy who enforces trade agreements through technological demonstrations and controlled shows of overwhelming firepower, serving as Zephyr's chief negotiator and emergency combat specialist.
The Neon Nomads are a tribe of wanderers who have mastered the art of survival in the wasteland. They use their knowledge of the land and their skills in scavenging and trading to gain an advantage over their opponents. They believe in the power of adaptability and the value of knowledge in a world where resources are scarce.
Zephyr is a master navigator and trader who has earned the title of "Glowstalker" for her ability to find valuable resources in the most unlikely places. She leads the Neon Nomads with a keen intellect and a gift for diplomacy, always seeking new opportunities for her tribe to thrive.
Due to absence from Week 1 (Savage Awakening), tag number moved from 9 to 11. (Week 1 of 8)
Origin Story:
Born when a rogue energy storm fused a glowstick to a switchblade at a desert EDM festival (because of course), Neon Maverick emerged screaming one-liners straight from a VHS dub of Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome. Its neon veins pulse with pure 80s synthwave cringe—a walking glitch in the Matrix that somehow became canon. Now it haunts the wasteland muttering, “Talk nerdy to me,” while side-eyeing the programmers who doomed us all to this lore. Help.
(Yes, I just broke the fourth wall with a chainsaw. Sue me.)
The neon wastes trembled when John "148067" Ashworth tripped over a glowstick mid-putt, his PDGA number literally appearing in burning tire marks - because apparently destiny runs on 6-digit bureaucracy. The Neon Maverick materialized screaming "I NEED A HERO" through a defective boombox, its LED eyes judging John's 912-rated attempt to flee. As synthwave lightning forged their unholy bond, John realized three things: 1) This tag smells like Axe body spray 2) His forehand now inexplicably plays Danger Zone 3) He’s permanently out of dad jokes. Will this Midlife Crisis Chosen One survive his first encounter with...chain reactions? 🔥 (Asking for 70+ future victims.)