Bogey Nights @ Dragonfly
Feb 12 - Apr 09, 2026
Current Holder
Bobby Schneck
Crimson Psalm
Crimson Psalm
Rewound but never erased
Born from the final frame of a forgotten VHS tape buried beneath the seats of a defunct video rental kiosk, Crimson Psalm materialized during a midnight surge at Dragonfly Basin when a rookie's perfect putt synced with a power grid failure. Witnesses claim the disc left a smoldering trail shaped like ancient script across the green, and that night, three B-Side Talent vanished from the roster. The name appeared on the Blockbuster card the next morning, etched in blood-red static—uninvited, undeniable.
Crimson Psalm pulses with a low-frequency hum detectable only under strobe silence, vibrating in sync with the bearer’s heartbeat during critical throws. Its energy disrupts nearby code rain, forming temporary glyphs that predict wind shifts and basket sway. When held, the tag warms unnaturally, and chrome discs reflect scenes not from the current round, but from battles yet to come—fragments of futures earned through survival.
The silent omen before a flawless run, the hush that falls when the arena knows a legend is about to rewrite the board. Crimson Psalm doesn’t announce—it consumes the noise, leaving only certainty in its wake.
Tag Details
Tag History
Commentary from Flippy (your trapped narrator)
adjusts headset with trembling hands
Welcome back to The Culling, Season One—where signup positions mean nothing and the arena's first verdict is final.
Bobby Schneck walked in as lottery ticket #3. He leaves as The One True Bogey. Six strokes under field average. A round rating that doesn't exist in mortal disc golf. And somewhere in the static, three B-Side Talent are still checking their bags for their missing tags.
But here's the thing about Crimson Psalm: it doesn't just move players up the board. It rewrites them. That low-frequency hum you're hearing? That's not the power grid. That's the sound of certainty. The chrome on his discs reflects futures he hasn't thrown yet—which, in a ladder format where rankings are destiny, means he's already won.
leans into mic
Week One. Glow Rookie. The naive newcomer with the supernatural stroke just became the omen everyone's running from. The neon lights haven't even warmed up and we're already watching legend-building in real time.
The sponsors want me to call this "exciting." The sponsors have never faced an uninvited anomaly that hums in the dark.
From the booth: Crimson Psalm has entered the arena. Everything changes now.
Commentary from Flippy (your trapped narrator)
adjusts headset as VHS tracking lines slice through the broadcast Welcome back to The Culling, where lottery positions mean nothing and the course renders its first true verdict. Bobby Schneck entered the arena anonymous—rank zero, just another name in the signup scroll. The blacklights came on. The code rain fell. And when the strobe faded, Crimson Psalm had claimed its bearer.
A 50-stroke round in a field averaging 56. Six throws cleaner than the noise. A 993 rating that whispers what his 946 profile was afraid to scream. The arena doesn't care about your starting number—it only cares if you can throw.
checks survival board From signup lottery to rank 3 on week one. The crowd's verdict: this one belongs in the glow. Crimson Psalm doesn't announce itself. It consumes the noise. It leaves only certainty. And somewhere in the VHS static between rounds, three B-Side Talent are wondering how they got overtaken by a rookie who apparently learned to putt from a power grid surge.
The tape keeps rolling. The neon palm trees are watching. Fame burns fast in this circuit—let's see if Bobby Schneck's got the game to survive when the blacklights stay on.
broadcast voice drops From the booth, I'm Flippy. This is what emergence looks like.