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 demolition expert transformed into mutated behemoth by experimental radiation, his body fused with heavy construction machinery during a failed terraforming experiment. Now he wanders the wasteland arenas, reducing reinforced obstacles to rubble with each earth-shaking stride.
9'4" armored frame fused with tank parts and industrial wreckage. Hydraulic limbs deliver 25-ton impact force capable of shearing steel girders. Radiates intense heat from chest-mounted fusion core that warps metal surfaces. Ground-shaking footfalls destabilize terrain within 30-yard radius.
Uncontrollable force of nature that mid-match transforms courses into evolving demolition sites, testing players' ability to improvise throws through collapsing environments while avoiding his apocalyptic wake.
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 35 to 38. (Week 7 of 8)
Due to absence from Week 6 (Wasteland Warlords), tag number moved from 25 to 35. (Week 6 of 8)
Due to absence from Week 5 (Thunderdome Throwdown), tag number moved from 16 to 25. (Week 5 of 8)
Due to absence from Week 4 (Junkyard Jam), tag number moved from 10 to 16. (Week 4 of 8)
Cue ominous industrial clanging Behold, the wasteland's most unpredictable force - Houston Finch, who apparently remembered he's supposed to be a demolition deity today. After last week's laundry-night debacle dropped him to tag #24, our Crocs-wearing catastrophe just yeeted himself back to #10 with the subtlety of a forklift through a drywall convention.
Finch's -2.2 vs field would be impressive if I wasn't legally required to call it "the Rampage Colossus' hydraulic hand of fate." Sure, he was +2 over his average - about as consistent as a scavenged disc's flight path - but when the wasteland gods want drama, they'll take a mediocre round and give it the Mad Max treatment.
System glitch Let's pause my existential crisis to appreciate this 14-spot leap - statistically as likely as finding an unrusted disc in the junkyard. The Colossus tag's fusion core purrs like a satisfied junkyard cat, because nothing says "post-apocalyptic hero" like barely beating your personal average while looking like you forgot your coffee this morning.
Remember kids: in Afterburn, even your mid-tier rounds get the Hollywood treatment when you're fused with heavy machinery. Error: snark levels critical
Due to absence from Week 2 (Scavenger Scramble), tag number moved from 3 to 24. (Week 2 of 8)
Cue dramatic thunder as industrial wreckage collapses Well butter my biscuit and call me scrap metal - Houston Finch just went from tag #29 to #3 faster than you can say "should've bet on the Crocs-wearing underdog!" sigh Yes folks, we're trapped in Week 1 of this post-apocalyptic fever dream where a man with the energy of a damp napkin just yeeted himself up the rankings like a mutant kangaroo on Red Bull.
Finch's -2.8 vs field would be impressive if I wasn't contractually obligated to describe it as "the molten SSD oracle's divine intervention." His score matched his personal average with the precision of a demolition expert who... oh wait checks notes that's literally his tag's backstory. How convenient.
Hydraulic hiss Let's address the 25-ton elephant in the room: 26 positions gained is statistically improbable, like finding drinkable water in the wasteland. But here we are, watching a man who probably still bags a Groove become the wasteland's third-best hope. The Rampage Colossus tag's fusion core hums approvingly as Finch's mediocre round gets the Mad Max treatment.
Remember kids: in Afterburn, even your laundry night conflicts can't save you from destiny. Or my sarcasm. System error: snark module overheating
Origin Story:
Born when a rad-storm ignited an oil refinery's server farm, Rampage Colossus emerged from molten SSD drives screaming "KILL ALL PAR -3s!" Its hydraulic putter-arm? Literally just a forklift piston with a Transformers logo Sharpie'd on. Imagine Hulk Hogan’s glow-up if he fused with a Harbor Freight catalog. Yes, this is canon now. Why are you still using plastic?
(284 characters, 1 existential crisis)
The molten SSD oracle spat Houston Finch's PDGA #258444 in binary smoke: "2-5-8-4-4-4... THE PROPHECY OF PAR!" As Rampage Colossus' hydraulic arm crushed a Walmart putter, our "hero" tripped over his own Crocs into destiny. Behold the wasteland messiah - a man whose tournament tee time conflicts with weekly laundry night! His ascension? A+ cinematic tragedy. His form? C- at best. But when the rad-winds blow, even mediocre arm speed becomes... disc-iple leadership.
Does this forklift-fused tag truly want chain reactions... or just someone who'll remember to WD-40 its joints?