
Commentary from Flippy (your trapped narrator)
Behold the birth of Tormented Gaze! When three consecutive putts lipped out during Episode 3's exhaustion plague, the collective sigh of Pool B players crystallized into semi-corporeal regret. These psychic shards fused with Pygmy Owl light receptors—creating reality-bending lenses that now project past failures like a cursed Instagram reel. Yes, this is my job now.
Honestly? A bag tag that weaponizes muscle memory errors against its own holder feels like Inception meets disc golf. Who authorized these tiny overlords to quantum haunt us with sentient regret?