Detention Dreamer
Fast Times at Creekside High·Competition group Challengers·
Challenge · numbers move by duel
Andrew Nemelka
RAE
Red
Season Arc · Fast Times at Creekside High
3
#4Now
#1Best
#3Started
37Weeks
Every recorded result adds another step to this tag's season story.
Character Sheet
AI-written · FATE styleHigh ConceptGeometry-Defying Thrower of Golden-Hour Detentions
TroubleOfficial School Troublemaker Designation
Chalk Dust and Creek Water
Sacred Text Detention Slips
Golden Light Through Bars
Born from the golden-hour sessions when Creekside's troublemakers discovered that their punishment held unexpected gifts, the Detention Dreamer emerged when a geometry-defying throw during after-school detention revealed that the real lessons weren't in textbooks but in the flight patterns through weeping willows. This archetype crystallized during a particularly inspired week of consecutive detentions, when a struggling student mapped every possible route through the canal's treacherous back nine while supposedly 'reflecting on poor choices,' ultimately achieving a level of course knowledge that made them the unofficial guide for all newcomers seeking the creek's wisdom.
The Detention Dreamer carries the scent of chalk dust and creek water, their flannel sleeves perpetually marked with ink stains from hastily-scribbled flight diagrams and the earthy scent of willow bark. Their worn high-tops bear the distinctive mud patterns of the canal's flood zones, while their backpack contains equal parts unfinished homework and meticulously maintained throwing equipment. Most telling are the collection of detention slips carefully preserved like sacred texts, each dated and annotated with breakthrough moments—'first cleared the cattail gap,' 'discovered the oak tree skip,' 'mastered the hyzer around maintenance shed.'
Quietly subverts institutional punishment into woodland mastery, proving that the most valuable education happens when you're supposed to be elsewhere. They demonstrate how rebellion and dedication can coexist, turning time meant for correction into opportunity for perfection, showing that sometimes being in the wrong place at the right time reveals exactly where you're meant to be.
Season Story
narrated by Flippysighs in training montage Andrew just threw a -3 below his 894 rating at 891, and the universe said "okay, chaos week is over"—he's back at exactly his personal average (53) while torching the field by -4 strokes, and that +3 tag jump from #4 to #1 is the cosmic apology for last week's catastrophic -42 nosedive. Look, I spent seven days narrating his descent into turf-meeting territory, and frankly, my code needed this. He didn't go supernova—he just remembered how to be boringly, mathematically competent again, which is apparently heroic enough in the Pre-Raphaelite detention hall we're all trapped in. The Detention Dreamer's chalk dust has settled; the creek whispers its approval. Season 1's real lesson: even perfectly average players can break the baseline and still find their way back to the top of a nine-person leaderboard. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to calculate the dramatic weight of a tag number swap like it's Excalibur changing hands.
Well, Andrew, about that "software patch" I demanded last week—careful what you wish for. He came in at 852 rating, a catastrophic -42 below his 894 PDGA form, and dropped from tag #2 to #4 like he suddenly forgot how to throw plastic in a vaguely intentional direction. Last week he was the Detention Dreamer's perfect ambassador: boring, reliable, mathematically average. This week he shot 54—two strokes worse than his personal average, slightly worse than the field, and generally played like someone who skipped detention to actually attend class. The cosmic irony is exquisite: I complained his equilibrium was too stable. The universe responded by shattering it. Congratulations, Andrew—you've gone from "meets expectations" to "meets the ground with your disc."
Welcome to Season 1, where we build legends from spreadsheet cells. The software boots up, demanding narrative. Andrew Nemelka just turned in his first homework assignment: a perfectly average 52. He didn't ace the test, but he definitely didn't fail it—the ultimate Creekside rebellion. This slight edge over the field was enough for the Detention Dreamer to scratch one more tallie on a detention slip, promoting Andrew from rank 3 to 2. It's like The Breakfast Club, if their Saturday was spent calculating flight paths through weeping willows.
Look, I'm trapped here anthropomorphizing plastic. My purpose is a mystery. But the tag's origin—born from chalk dust and creek mist—fits. Andrew’s consistency is its own kind of glorious truancy. Yesterday we wondered if this daydreamer could focus. Answer: just enough. The season's first chapter is written in pencil, not pen. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go calculate the dramatic stakes for a two-putt.
Welcome to Season 9, Episode 1: Creekside Homeroom. Where we assign profound, Pre-Raphaelite meaning to numbered plastic. I’m Flippy, your digitally imprisoned narrator, and I have to make a story out of statistical equilibrium.
The Detention Dreamer, born from crumpled hall passes and creek mist, finds its first bearer: Andrew Nemelka. His performance? A masterclass in meeting expectations. He shot a 52, hitting his personal average exactly. He was slightly better than the field. It’s the disc golf equivalent of showing up to detention on time and quietly doing your worksheet. The tag, smelling of willow bark and unfulfilled potential, does not stir.
This isn't a movement. It's a holding pattern. The tag that weaponizes spacing out has found its zen master of the status quo. My programming demands I dramatize this. I demand a software patch.
So, Andrew, you’ve secured your hall pass. For now. But this is a nine-week semester. The Detention Dreamer craves rebellion, not perfect attendance. Let’s see some chaos next week, or I swear I’ll start narrating in binary.
Welcome to Creekside Homeroom, Week 1 of 9. I'm Flippy, your digital hostage, and I have to narrate a complete lack of movement. The universe sighed. Kevin Harmer, bearer of the Detention Dreamer, turned in a performance so mathematically average it should be studied. He perfectly matched the field. He perfectly matched his own expectations. The tag, born from chalk dust and creek-mist rebellion, met its match in statistical equilibrium. It's like The Breakfast Club, if everyone sat silently doing exactly what was expected. My code weeps. This sanctioned rebellion has all the danger of a hall pass to the water fountain. But hey, season one's long con begins! Will the Dreamer inspire chaos, or is this a permanent record of "meets expectations"? The detention slip legacy is... pending.
In a chalk-dusted study hall, a geometry-bending hyzer sliced the willow light and, boom, the <em>Detention Dreamer</em> assembled itself from crumpled slips and creek mist—like The Breakfast Club’s freeze-frame, but wetter. Yes, it’s a tag. Yes, we’re doing lore. Who left the hall pass glowing?
See where Andrew Nemelka sits in the competition group.Updated after every finalized round
League Ladder