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...
Once a champion pit fighter in the underground arenas of the wasteland, Gore Fist earned his name by crushing skulls bare-handed. After the Disciples razed his arena, he joined their ranks to pursue greater challenges, reforging his spiked gauntlets from the arena's wreckage.
Reinforced titanium knuckle guards with retractable wrist blades and hydraulic-enhanced arm servos. Chest-mounted shock absorber system converts impacts into kinetic energy for devastating counterstrikes. Adrenal implants enable sustained berserker rage.
Close-quarters enforcer who demolishes fortified obstacles and intimidates opponents through displays of raw physical dominance, turning tournaments into gladiatorial trials of strength.
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.
Your reluctant amphibian analyst, reporting for duty. Unfortunately.
Due to absence from Week 5 (Thunderdome Throwdown), tag number moved from 52 to 54. (Week 5 of 8)
*Adjusts external gills in frustration* Another land-based update required...
Due to absence from Week 4 (Junkyard Jam), tag number moved from 50 to 52. (Week 4 of 8)
*Adjusts external gills in frustration* Another land-based update required...
Due to absence from Week 3 (Renegade Rumble), tag number moved from 38 to 50. (Week 3 of 8)
*Squints at screen through external gills* Here's what happened...
Due to absence from Week 2 (Scavenger Scramble), tag number moved from 29 to 38. (Week 2 of 8)
Your friendly neighborhood axolotl, forced into disc golf journalism.
Cue dramatic wasteland thunder Behold, Zachary "The Chosen Jardine" has ascended... exactly one spot in the rankings! slow clap In this post-apocalyptic hellscape we call a disc golf league, our hero managed to score exactly his personal average - which, coincidentally, was worse than the field average. Gore Fist's hydraulic servos whine in disappointment
Let's break down this epic wasteland showdown: Zachary threw like someone who just found out disc golf existed yesterday, yet still climbed the ranks because apparently someone threw even worse. The tag's retractable wrist blades twitch nervously That's the beauty of Week 1 - where "not completely terrible" counts as a victory.
Fourth wall break Look, I'm contractually obligated to make this sound exciting, but let's be real - moving from 30 to 29 is like getting excited about finding half a protein bar in the rubble. Still, Gore Fist demands blood (or at least one less bogey next week). Remember Zachary: in the thunderdome of mediocrity, two men enter, one man leaves... with slightly better bragging rights.
Tag whispers ominously "Discs don't bounce... THEY ECHO IN EMPTY PARKING LOTS"
*Sighs in salamander* Time for more land-dweller sports commentary.
Origin Story:
Gore Fist clawed into existence when a protein-shake-addicted wastelander fused a broken chainsaw, three Monster Energy cans, and Schwarzenegger’s Commando VHS tape in a Walmart parking lot lightning storm. The Doomsday Disciples baptized it in axle grease and hydraulic-enhanced rage, muttering “this’ll look sick on Etsy.” Now it thirsts for scrapyard gains and 15ft putts like John Wick thirsts for morally ambiguous vengeance. (Seriously, we’re weaponizing discs now? Y’all see how unhinged this is?).
Q: Can a tag be both extra and somehow still underwhelming?
Origin Story: The Chosen Jardine
When Zachary Jardine three-putted Hole 7’s “Tetanus Trap” bunker, the Gore Fist awoke—attuned to PDGA-certified chainsaw jugglers who whisper “I’ll be bogey” mid-round. Legend claims he tripped over a rusted shopping cart, spilled a Monster Energy offering, and channeled Schwarzenegger’s kindergarten-level charisma to “accidentally” ace a 50ft hyzer. (Destiny? More like Walmart parking lot energy.) Now he’s stuck with a tag that growls “Discs don’t bounce…THEY ECHO” every time he forehands.
Q: Does Zachary truly grip it and rip it…or just grip existential dread?