Baggage Claim

sighs in direct-to-VHS quality Loading your horror show stats... and of course, I’m still trapped in this glitch-laden broadcast booth, narrating what is essentially a metaphysical disc golf heist. But hey—at least the plastic’s flying. Let’s get this over with.

Bags Switched, Souls Syncing 🌀

Welcome back to The Culling, where rankings matter and absence means forfeit—I'm contractually required to add. The wind howls across The Arena like a corrupted audio track, slicing through the Wasatch foothills at a steady 11 mph, and the mercury hovers just above freezing. Not ideal. But for Week 1 of Ace/Off @ The Arena, conditions don’t matter—identity does. Because the bags were switched at dusk. No one saw it happen. Now, the agent throws trick flicks and the showman aims for chains like a rookie. The Arena doesn’t care who you are—only who you can become. With just three players braving the cold and the creeping VHS static in the air, this wasn’t a field—it was a firing squad for the self.

Showman Steals the Script 🎭

Malachi Vazquez didn’t just win RPA—he became it. A wire-to-wire 980-rated demolition job, a course-record 60 (-2), and an eagle on the brutal uphill par-5 6th hole, “Rooster’s Revenge,” that looked less like a throw and more like a prophecy fulfilled. He didn’t just attack the layout—he inhabited it. Early pressure from Brian Hansen kept things spicy, but Malachi’s front-nine clean sheet shut the door like a hydraulic vault. The Arena’s Gold layout, clocking in at ~9,500 feet of championship-grade punishment, folded under his throws like a dubbed tape with no original left. This wasn’t a round. This was a hostile takeover.

The Bag Was Borrowed, the Win Was Real

Meanwhile, in RAD, Skyler Kunz wasn’t playing house—he was building it. An 870-rated performance, wire-to-wire dominance, and three solo birdies on holes 8, 11, and 14 painted a picture of control in the chaos. That eagle on hole 6? Same hole, same statement. But perfection wasn’t on the menu—his double bogey on hole 3, “Vulture’s Cut,” cost him more than strokes. It cost him the Super Ace payout. The wind caught his drive, the disc tree-nied in the sagebrush, and the chains stayed silent. But the win? Real. The bag? Not his. The identity? Up for grabs.

Ratings Don’t Lie—But They Sweat

Let’s talk numbers, because the algorithm is watching. Malachi’s rating jumped 21 points—from 959 to 980—because apparently, throwing with someone else’s muscle memory unlocks hidden stats. Skyler’s 870? That’s not just a good round—that’s a possession-level performance. Both players exceeded their known ceilings like they’d been upgraded in real time. PDGA Live doesn’t track soul transference, but if it did, these rounds would be flagged for review. Plastic doesn’t care about your ego. It only cares about the throw—and this week, the throws were borrowed, but the results were real.

$356 Says Someone’s Lying to Themselves 💸

No aces. No CTPs. No miracles. But the pot—oh, the pot—grows richer in its loneliness. The Super Ace jackpot now sits at $356, unclaimed, unchallenged, and very annoyed. Skyler Kunz came close—so close—on hole 3, but two strokes too many under blustery conditions. The wind didn’t steal the ace. His bag did. Someone’s out there thinking, “That was mine.” No. It wasn’t. The disc knows who it belongs to. And it’s not talking.

Skins? More Like Urban Legends

Voluntary risk? Not today, Satan. Not a single card opted into skins this week—meaning the only thing being gambled was identity, not cash. The skins ledger remains blank, a ghost town of could’ve-beens. But fine. Let the financial stakes stay hypothetical. We’ve got bigger fish to fry—like, say, souls.

Velvet Verdict Just Auditioned a New Host

And now—the main event. The chrome silhouette fractures into vertical tracking lines. The neon-lit face shifts between identities. The static hums. Velvet Verdict has spoken.

Tag #1—Velvet Verdict—doesn’t choose owners. It auditions them. And on hole 9, during a seemingly routine hyzer flip through a gap he’d never attempted, Malachi Vazquez paused. Just half a second. A stance shift no one called. Then—snap—the disc flew like it had been thrown a thousand times before. Our cameras caught it: his fingers twitched post-throw, like someone else was rewinding. The disc landed parked. The booth’s got no explanation. But the tag? It’s humming. This isn’t mastery. It’s mimicry so complete, reality blurs. The Arena’s watching. The game’s listening. And someone’s muscle memory isn’t their own.

The Tape Is Rewinding—And It’s Watching 📼

Week 1: Baggage Claim. The bags were switched. The lines are gone. Malachi Vazquez didn’t just win—he was cast. And the script? It says “Sycamore Swap” next week. But here’s the kicker, buried in the corrupted metadata: Halfway through, a hidden camera reveals one player has been using a modified putter since Week 3.

...It’s Week 1.

The plot thickens. The fog glitches. And I’m still stuck here, narrating a simulation that’s beginning to feel awfully self-aware. Until next time—try not to lose yourself between the chains.