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 pit fighter who conquered 66 consecutive demolition derbies. Recruited by Kruger after dismantling a rival gang's armored convoy with only a spiked maul. Now serves as Disciples' chief enforcer, believing broken bones purify weak competitors.
Reinforced titanium knuckle guards fused with concrete debris. Hydraulic-assisted leg servos from salvaged construction equipment. Retractable spiked flail in forearm plating. Trophy necklace of defeated opponents' disc golf brackets.
Patrols tournament grounds enforcing disciplinary measures through excessive force, transforming rule enforcement into spectator events that showcase Disciples' brutality.
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.
*Wiggles tiny axolotl fingers over keyboard* Let's get this over with.
Due to absence from Week 5 (Thunderdome Throwdown), tag number moved from 17 to 26. (Week 5 of 8)
*Wiggles tiny axolotl fingers over keyboard* Let's get this over with.
Due to absence from Week 4 (Junkyard Jam), tag number moved from 11 to 17. (Week 4 of 8)
*Flutters pink gills* Fine, I'll explain this gravity-dependent nonsense.
Hydraulic servos SCREECH to life Behold! Malachi "The Yeetron 9000" Vazquez just yeeted himself from tag #25 to #11 like a forehand through a chain-link fence. After last week's cough "strategic absence" (read: hiding from Kruger's wrath), our Bonecrusher Enforcer returned with a score that made the field average look like a participation trophy.
Spiked flail WHIRS ominously Sure, he was +1 against his personal average - but in Afterburn math, "slightly worse than usual" still translates to "dominated 14 weaker souls." That's the kind of performance that keeps your kneecaps intact when your bag tag's origin story involves literal hydraulic-assisted violence.
Fourth wall break: sigh I'm a glorified Excel formula pretending this post-apocalyptic LARP matters. The Disciples' brutality spreadsheet demands content.
Pro tip: When your tag's properties include "trophy necklace of defeated opponents' brackets," maybe don't celebrate by hitting first available on hole 18. Again.
Servos POWER DOWN Until next week, when we'll see if Malachi can maintain this momentum or get recycled into wasteland scrap metal.
*Adjusts external gills in frustration* Another land-based update required...
Due to absence from Week 2 (Scavenger Scramble), tag number moved from 4 to 25. (Week 2 of 8)
Another day, another disc golf story. At least my tank has WiFi.
Hydraulic servos whir Witness this absolute mad lad, Malachi "The Yeetron 9000" Vazquez, catapulting from tag #17 to #4 like a Roc fired from a trash cannon. In this wasteland we call "week one," our hero performed exactly to his 935-rated potential - which in Disciples terms means "sufficient brutality to avoid being fed to the basket goblins."
Spiked flail extends Let's be real: climbing 13 spots is impressive until you remember these initial tags were assigned alphabetically by favorite breakfast cereal. But hey, matching your personal average while the field floundered? That's the kind of consistency that keeps your bones unbroken in Afterburn.
Fourth wall break: sigh I'm contractually obligated to pretend these plastic numbers matter. The Bonecrusher Enforcer tag's concrete knuckles are literally twitching with disappointment.
Pro tip: When your bag tag's origin story involves "66 consecutive demolition derbies," maybe don't celebrate by hitting first available. Just saying.
Servos power down Until next week, when we'll see if Malachi can maintain his position or get yeeted into the scrap heap of history.
Just a pink axolotl trying to make sense of your airborne plastic addiction.
Origin Story:
Forged in the grease fires of Thunderdome's last demolition derby, Bonecrusher Enforcer emerged when a rogue caddy-armorer dunked a 9-iron in molten engine oil and the script of Mad Max: Fury Road. Its hydraulic servos whisper "Yeet" in binary. Now it judges disc golfers instead of crushing skulls - which, checks notes, is apparently what we call "character development" in this glitchy apocalypse sim.
(284 characters, 1 existential crisis)
The Bonecrusher Enforcer awoke in Thunderdome's smog, its hydraulic eye twitching at Malachi Vazquez’s PDGA#162249 - which obviously translated to "CHOSEN WRANGLER" in post-apocalyptic binary. Our hero? A man who once lost a disc in broad daylight and blamed a squirrel. Yet here he stood, surviving Art Dye’s asphalt jungles with a 935-rated chainsaw arm (metaphorical... mostly). When his Roc kissed basket 17’s rusted guts, the tag hissed: "WITNESS ME."
But does a man who calls OB “suggestive geometry” truly deserve to wield... the Yeetron 9000?
(Prophecy length: 297 characters. Regrets: 42.)