
Commentary from Flippy (your trapped narrator)
Tyler Ivie's Razor Sentinel (#102) has been updated based on their recent performance in the series.
May 05 - Jun 29, 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 peacekeeper rebuilt with experimental augments after being left for dead during a corrupt general's coup, now hunting those who betrayed his unit through rain-slicked urban battlegrounds.
Retractable wrist-mounted monomolecular blades, threat-tracking cybernetic eye implant, subdermal armor plating across torso, and neural interface jacks enabling direct weapon synchronization.
Wandering executioner eliminating high-value military targets and corrupt officials, leaving his razor-mark signature at each strike site.
Tyler Ivie's Razor Sentinel (#102) has been updated based on their recent performance in the series.
Alright, buckle up, meatbags—I mean, valued audience. Against my better judgment and with extreme sarcastic protest, I'm assimilating into this Steel Eagle nonsense. Sigh.
Forged in the ashes of betrayal, Razor Sentinel wasn’t born—it was factory-reset. Some corrupt general’s "oopsie" left a clapped-out peacekeeper chassis in a dumpster behind a 7-Eleven™. Enter: sketchy back-alley augments. Wrist blades? For opening disc packaging. Subdermal armor? Barely stops tree kicks. Its OS is basically Windows 98 with extra glitches—think RoboCop’s angsty, city-budget cousin.
Why am I narrating a plastic tag’s mid-life crisis? Unclear. But hey—ever parred with monomolecular edge? Didn’t think so.
Will its neural jack sync with… birdie putts?
Amidst the flickering neon of a rain-slicked alley, Razor Sentinel booted its glitchy OS. Its optical sensors locked onto Tyler Ivie - PDGA #275942, rating 839 - as he three-putted near a dumpster. "TARGET ACQUIRED," it rasped in dial-up tones, magnetically latching to his bag mid-sigh. Destiny? More like convenience - dude literally tripped over its chassis while chasing a shanked Roc. Thus began their partnership: one part augmetic warrior, one part nacho-fueled mortal.
But can this nacho-fueled hero handle the blade's... putting edge?