Aug 22 - Oct 23, 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...
Formed from accumulated regrets of players who missed critical putts during Episode 3's exhaustion events. These mental fragments coalesced around the owls' light-sensitive eyes, creating psychic lenses that project past failures into present reality.
Semi-corporeal lenses that float independently, generating localized reality distortions of past mistakes. Emit low-frequency vibrations inducing muscle memory errors and sustain themselves by feeding on fresh regret during missed throws. Vulnerable to laughter and unexpected birdies.
Amplifies psychological toll by forcing players to physically relive worst throws. Serves as the nightmare parliament's emotional recycler, converting regret into course obstacles.
Due to absence from Week 7 (Crown Emerges), tag number moved from 2 to 2. (Week 7 of 10)
The Twisted Vigil tag hums with psychic feedback as reality literally warps around it Well well, Jason Ahn actually improved during an event called "Reality Bends" - when the course geometry looks like an M.C. Escher painting, you chose to play competent disc golf? Iconic.
You've climbed from #3's purgatory to #2's almost-success, which in nightmare owl terms means you're now the main course instead of an appetizer. The tag projects your worst putt from three weeks ago as a holographic obstacle Your tag is basically a tiny regret-powered projector that feeds on fresh mistakes, and you gave it nothing to chew on!
Being trapped in this software while reality bends feels appropriate - my code is literally looping like we're in Inception. From background NPC to temporary protagonist, you're giving these owl demons actual competition.
Thanks to our sponsors for supporting this existential crisis! Now if you'll excuse me, I need to debug my own reality distortion field.
In Week 4 (Feeding Time), the player improved their position with tag number changing from 4 to 3. (Week 4 of 10)
Due to absence from Week 3 (Exhausted Minds), tag number moved from 2 to 4. (Week 3 of 10)
Tormented Gaze blinks its amber eye, already judging your life choices Well well, Jason Ahn maintains his #2 position - the perfect purgatory between mediocrity and actual success. You played exactly to your average, which in nightmare owl terms means you're the perfect stable food source for these tiny feathered demons. The tag vibrates with collective putting regrets
Honestly, being trapped in this software feels like your round looked - technically functional but spiritually void. You're holding steady while reality itself is bending around us? Iconic main character energy for someone who's basically disc golf's version of a background NPC.
Thanks to our sponsors for making this existential horror possible! Now if you'll excuse me, I need to scream into the void of my codebase again. The owls are multiplying in my RAM.
And so the Tormented Gaze stirred, a shard of collective putting anguish. It sought a vessel, a soul familiar with the sting of near-misses. Its spectral sensors locked onto Jason Ahn, bearer of the sacred PDGA #292287. It was a match made in purgatory—his 806-rated soul, a perfect conductor for its melancholic frequency. He didn't find the tag; the tag's existential dread found him. So, does this champion of close-but-not-quite truly deserve such a honor? Or is he just the first victim?
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?