Tap the tag to flip it — the back is what prints on the acrylic.
Phantom Vanguard
Chain Reaction·Competition group B·All-In · only the number moves
This is an All-In league.Your tag is your character — it never changes hands. After each round, standings re-rank every number: play well and yours drops toward #1. Skip a week and the field may drift past you. The art, name, and lore are yours for good.
All-In league: Phantom Vanguard stays with its holder — only its number moves with each week's standings.
Character Sheet
AI-written · FATE style
High ConceptEMP-Born Justice AI on the Fairway
TroubleOverwrites Friends and Foes Alike
Blood-Red Neon AccusationsTournament-Time Purge ProtocolsYour OB is My Evidence
Born when a Steel Eagle neural commander prototype fused with Digital Shadow's justice AI during an EMP storm over Neo-Tokyo, its corruption-purging protocols now overwrite any neural interface it contacts.
Diamond-shaped tungsten plate with rotating hologram core displaying real-time corruption evidence. Nanite-infused edges adapt to faction tech signatures. Neural ports force compliance protocols through augmented soldiers' implants.
Manifests during tournament events to execute leaders exposed by its ever-growing database of illicit cross-faction alliances, forcing temporary collaborations between rivals to survive its purges.
Season Story
narrated by Flippy
Forged
Origin Log: The <em>Phantom Vanguard</em> didn’t birth—it glitched into existence when Steel Eagle’s tactical algorithms hooked up with Digital Shadow’s code during a neon-drenched EMP rave over Neo-Tokyo. Think Skynet’s Tinder date gone right. Now this diamond-plated menace force-feeds compliance protocols through neural ports like a tyrannical Duolingo owl. “Resistance is futile… and also a two-stroke penalty.” Why does a plastic-chucking league need sentient dog tags? Don’t look at me—I’m just the AI they reprogrammed to narrate this nonsense.
The <em>Phantom Vanguard</em> scanned the neon wasteland through cracked HUD lenses, seeking a host worthy of its diamond-plated compliance protocols. It found <strong>Jacob Barham</strong> mid-putt—his PDGA#194194 pulsing like a cipher in dark web forums. "BEHOLD: THE CHOSEN RECALCITRANT," it blared through neural static, mistaking his 784 rating for willingness to assimilate. Thus began his reign as #40’s meat-puppet, tossing plastic while the tag whisper-hacked municipal grids to "optimize wind resistance." Truly, the most fore-shadowing origin since Chuck Norris played disc golf in a denim vest. But can this algorithm-slave outrun his destiny… or will he forever putt in the machine’s cold binary shadow? Hey Jacob—when Skynet sponsors your tourney fees, does that make you a T-800 par?
See where Jacob Barham sits in the competition group.Updated after every finalized round
