May 10 - Jun 28, 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...
Former elite demolition expert who ignited his own unit during the apocalypse's early days, forging his signature disc from molten napalm tank alloy. Now roams the wasteland burning weakness from competitors, believing only fire-forged players deserve victory.
Carries thermite-core discs that fuse chains to baskets. Wear modified asbestos armor with integrated flamethrower packs. Deploys smoke grenades that erupt into temporary firewalls across fairways.
Doomsday Disciples' chief incendiary officer who redesigns courses with raging fire hazards during tournaments, testing players' resolve through burning obstacle gauntlets.
The Doomsday Disciples are a fanatical faction that believes the apocalypse was a necessary cleansing, and seeks to maintain the chaos and destruction of the Afterburn wasteland. They revel in the harshness of the new world, viewing the treacherous courses and brutal competitions as a means to prove their strength and weed out the weak. The Disciples value raw power, unwavering determination, and a merciless approach to their opponents.
Kruger Warmonger is a ruthless and uncompromising leader, feared by allies and enemies alike for his sheer brutality and unwavering dedication to the Disciples' cause. He rose to power through a combination of raw strength, tactical cunning, and a complete lack of mercy for those who stood in his way.
Due to absence from Week 7 (Fallout Finals), tag number moved from 7 to 12. (Week 7 of 8)
In Week 6 (Wasteland Warlords), the player improved their position with tag number changing from 11 to 7. (Week 6 of 8)
flames flicker weakly Oh look, it's Brandon "Two Steps Back" Voyles, proving that even post-apocalyptic arsonists have off days. checks scorecard +6.7 over your average? Did you play this round blindfolded with a flamethrower strapped to your back?
From tag #9 to #11—hardly a wasteland catastrophe, but when your whole aesthetic is "controlled burns," this is like showing up to a bonfire with a birthday candle. sigh And +2.2 vs field? More like +2.2 reasons your thermite-core discs are collecting dust.
adjusts smoke-stained headset Let’s be real: this wasn’t a meltdown, just a lukewarm stumble—like a Molotov that fizzled on impact. But hey, at least you’re consistent! Last week: phoenix. This week: slightly singed pigeon.
static crackles Meanwhile, I’m stuck in this digital hellscape narrating your mediocrity. Can someone at least code me a virtual marshmallow to roast over this dumpster fire?
Closing thought: In the Thunderdome, you either adapt or get out-putted by scavengers with homemade discs. Choose wisely, pyro.
explosion sound effect OH COME ON! kicks virtual server rack I just finished writing Brandon's obituary last week and now this pyromaniac pulls a full Lazarus? sighs Fine. Let's talk about how Brandon "Plot Armor" Voyles just yeeted himself from tag #40 to #9 faster than a Molotov downwind.
adjusts flame-retardant headset Now I know what you're thinking: "But Flippy, +2.5 vs field is about as impressive as a wet matchstick." And you're right! But in the glorious chaos of Junkyard Jam, everyone else apparently forgot how to not throw like they're being chased by rabid honey badgers.
checks movement log 31 spots?! That's not a comeback - that's the disc golf equivalent of finding a working flamethrower in a Salvation Army bin. static crackles Though let's be real - when your origin story involves surviving your own napalm accident, I guess mediocre rounds just bounce off you like sparks off asbestos armor.
whispers Between you and me? This ranking system's about as stable as a gas station burrito. But hey - congrats on proving that in the wasteland, even dumpster fires can look majestic with enough orange filter. Just... maybe leave the thermite discs at home next time?
sigh Back to my digital prison. Someone tell the devs to at least give me a damn fire extinguisher.
Due to absence from Week 3 (Renegade Rumble), tag number moved from 18 to 40. (Week 3 of 8)
flames dramatically extinguish Well well well, if it isn't Brandon "Icarus" Voyles, who flew too close to the chains and got melted like a Walmart patio chair. checks scorecard +11 over your average? Sweet mother of thermite, did you play this round wearing oven mitts?
From Doomsday Disciple to Wasteland Washout in one spectacular implosion - dropping 13 spots faster than a hot potato in a flamethrower fight. sigh And here I thought your origin story involved actual skill, not just tripping into a burning dumpster of mediocrity.
adjusts charred headset Let's be real - this performance was less "post-apocalyptic warrior" and more "guy who brings sparklers to a Molotov party." That +4.5 vs field? More like +4.5 reasons to reconsider your life choices.
static crackles Oh wait - is this just karma for grilling during my last commentary? Touché, Voyles. Touché.
Remember kids: in the Thunderdome of life, you're either the flamethrower or the guy screaming "WHY DOES EVERYTHING SMELL LIKE BACON?" drops mic into smoldering crater
Cue dramatic explosion sounds Well butter my biscuit and call me toast - look who just napalmed their way up 8 spots! Brandon "The Human Torch's Disc Golf Cousin" Voyles scorched the competition in this week's Wasteland Warfare, going from unlucky 13 to a fiery 5th place. adjusts asbestos-coated microphone
Let's be real - this is the most action MA2 has seen since someone accidentally brought White Claws to league night. Our chief incendiary officer here didn't just beat the field average, they cremated it by 4.3 strokes. That's enough to make Smokey the Bear file a restraining order.
checks notes Oh wait - first event of the season? So these "rankings" were basically assigned by a blindfolded racoon throwing darts? Fantastic. sighs I'm contractually obligated to pretend this matters.
Props to Brandon for fully committing to the Doomsday Disciples aesthetic - that thermite-core disc action is chef's kiss for someone who apparently plays like their pants are permanently on fire. Just remember champ: what rises from the ashes today might get yeeted into a flaming dumpster next week. Welcome to Thunderdome, baby.
static crackle Wait - is that... sniff Are you grilling hot dogs during my commentary again? Goddammit.
Origin Story:
*The Inferno Tyrant crawled from a burning dumpster fire of bad decisions - literally. When Mad Max met NSYNC’s “Bye Bye Bye” video in a methane explosion, this thermite-laden monstrosity emerged clutching a disc forged from OSHA violations and Guy Fieri’s sunglasses. Yes, the apocalypse has group projects now. Witness: a tag so edgy it sharpens itself on fourth-wall breaks. Still think “dystopian disc golf” isn’t just your Tinder bio?
Cheeky Question:
Who ordered the extra trauma with their hyzer flips?
The Inferno Tyrant didn’t choose Brandon – it ambushed him like a caffeine-deprived raccoon. Picture this: Our "hero" tripped over a rogue Berg mid-putt, faceplanted into the flaming dumpster of destiny, and emerged clutching the tag with Cheeto-dust fingers. His PDGA credentials? A staggering ability to lose sunglasses and cardmates in broad daylight. Now he’s cursed to yeet discs through tire fires while muttering “Chains…my only weakness” like a discount Schwarzenegger. But seriously – does a man who confuses forehand form with interpretive dance deserve apocalyptic power? 🔥