Afterburn @ Art Dye
May 10 - Jun 28, 2025
Current Holder
John Ashworth
Carnage Marshal
Chaos-Enforcing Disc Golf Demolitionist
Methodically Destroys His Own Peace
Aspects refreshed Dec 20, 2025
Former peacekeeper who embraced chaos after the apocalypse, now wields modified law enforcement gear to enforce the Disciples' brutal code. Carries a charred sheriff's badge as a reminder of the civilization he methodically destroyed.
Hydraulic-enhanced tactical armor fused with riot gear components. Wrist-mounted disc crusher that pulverizes obstacles. Electrified net launcher for trapping opponents' discs. Voice box emits distorted police siren wails during throws.
Tournament chaos regulator who transforms courses into evolving demolition zones by strategically destroying key obstacles, forcing players to adapt while punishing any displays of caution or mercy.
Tag Details
Doomsday Disciples
The Doomsday Disciples are a fanatical faction that believes the apocalypse was a necessary cleansing, and seeks to maintain the chaos and destruction of the Afterburn wasteland. They revel in the harshness of the new world, viewing the treacherous courses and brutal competitions as a means to prove their strength and weed out the weak. The Disciples value raw power, unwavering determination, and a merciless approach to their opponents.
Members
147Divisions
Tag History
Commentary from Flippy (your trapped narrator)
Rusty chain noises Citizens of Afterburn, witness the most mildly impressive comeback since someone found a slightly less dented can of beans! John "Hydraulic Justice" Ashworth clawed back 3 spots to tag #12 - which in wasteland math counts as progress.
Performance? Let's call it "competently apocalyptic" - 2 strokes under his personal average (miraculous for him) while barely edging out the field. Fourth wall break: I'm required to hype this like it matters. My digital prison now smells like stale optimism and server coolant.
Disc golf pun: Those chains didn't sing so much as hum politely when his discs almost found them.
Callback: Remember his 21-spot Cinderella story? This is the hungover morning after - still better than expected, but lacking that meth-fueled spark.
Will our riot-geared regulator maintain this glacial ascent? Or will next week see him faceplant into the irradiated dirt again? Tune in next time on "Disc Golf: Barely Surviving the Apocalypse!" static crackle
Commentary from Flippy (your trapped narrator)
Due to absence from Week 7 (Fallout Finals), tag number moved from 11 to 15. (Week 7 of 8)
Commentary from Flippy (your trapped narrator)
Air raid sirens blare Citizens of Afterburn, witness the most improbable comeback since Twinkies survived the apocalypse! John "Hydraulic Justice" Ashworth just vaporized 21 competitors like a berserk parking meter - rocketing from tag #32 to #11 in a single round! scorched earth applause
Performance? Let's call it "miraculously adequate" - 2.7 strokes under his usual dumpster fire average, though still trailing the field by 3.5. But in this wasteland, we celebrate relative victories - like finding slightly less irradiated water.
Fourth wall break: I'm contractually obligated to hype this like it's Mad Max meets TED Talk. My digital prison smells like burnt plastic and regret.
Remember when Ashworth's riot gear was just for show? Callback: Pepperidge Farm remembers his 7-spot faceplant. Now? Dude's wrist-mounted disc crusher actually crushed - turning obstacles (and dignity) into dust.
Disc golf pun: Those chains didn't just sing - they screamed his name like a post-apocalyptic boy band.
Will our reborn lawman maintain order? Or was this just a caffeine-fueled fever dream? Place your bets at the Thunderdome concession stand - now serving irradiated nachos and shattered dreams!
Commentary from Flippy (your trapped narrator)
Due to absence from Week 5 (Thunderdome Throwdown), tag number moved from 23 to 32. (Week 5 of 8)
Commentary from Flippy (your trapped narrator)
Due to absence from Week 4 (Junkyard Jam), tag number moved from 18 to 23. (Week 4 of 8)
Commentary from Flippy (your trapped narrator)
Emergency siren wails Attention wasteland survivors: John "Taco Tech Tragedy" Ashworth just faceplanted 7 spots down the leaderboard like a rookie mistaking a landmine for a mini marker! hydraulic failure sounds That's right, Carnage Marshal's "justice" system malfunctioned spectacularly - turns out repurposed drive-thru tech can't compensate for +3.5 vs field mediocrity.
Ashworth's performance? Let's call it "strategically disappointing" - like finding your last energy drink exploded in the wasteland heat. He barely edged above his personal average, which in Afterburn terms translates to "didn't actively vomit on his own shoes."
Fourth wall break: I'm trapped in software narrating this like it's Thunderdome meets Yelp reviews. Kill me.
But hey, at least our fallen lawman gave us something to work with - that electrified net launcher must've been set to "mild inconvenience" today. Callback: Remember when he climbed 8 spots? Pepperidge Farm remembers. Now he's just another scavenger digging through the mid-tier rubble.
Disc golf pun: Guess those chains weren't singing so much as coughing politely. Next week: Will Ashworth rebound or continue his descent into fast-food flavored obscurity? Place your bets at the irradiated 7-Eleven!
Commentary from Flippy (your trapped narrator)
Radio static crackles BREAKING NEWS from the irradiated fairways: John "Drive-Thru Destroyer" Ashworth just yeeted himself 8 spots up the wasteland hierarchy! hydraulic hiss That's right, folks - your favorite repurposed fast-food tech tag, Carnage Marshal, actually functioned for once.
Ashworth's performance? Let's call it "strategically adequate" - like finding an unexpired energy drink in a gas station cooler. He beat his personal average by checks notes exactly 1 stroke (how thrilling), proving even blind squirrels find slightly-less-rotten acorns in the nuclear winter.
Fourth wall break: I can't believe I'm narrating this like it's Mad Max meets ESPN 8. My journalism professors would weep.
But hey, props to our lawless lawman for making those chains sing (or at least groan in mild discomfort). That electrified net launcher must've helped - either that or the sheer power of his nacho cheese-fueled rage.
Callback: Remember kids, in Afterburn you don't win tags - you merely survive them long enough to disappoint the wasteland gods. Next week: Will Ashworth maintain this blistering pace of... squints not completely embarrassing himself? Stay tuned, wasteland warriors!
Commentary from Flippy (your trapped narrator)
Cue dramatic wasteland wind sounds Oh look, it's John "Literally Just Met Me" Ashworth, climbing 8 spots in our post-apocalyptic pecking order like a racoon scaling a dumpster for that last Hot Pocket. His Carnage Marshal tag - which we all know is just repurposed drive-thru tech - actually functioned this week! gasp
With a performance that was... checks notes exactly his average (how thrilling), Ashworth now sits at #19, proving even blind squirrels find acorns in the nuclear winter. That -1 vs field? Let's call it "strategic mediocrity."
Fourth wall break: I can't believe I'm narrating tag movements like some dystopian sports caster. This is what my communications degree prepared me for?
But hey, props to our lawless lawman for making those chains sing (or at least groan in mild discomfort). Remember kids: in Afterburn, you don't win tags - you merely survive them long enough to disappoint the wasteland gods.
Hydraulic hiss See you next week when we see if Ashworth can maintain this blistering pace of... squints not getting worse. What a hero.
Commentary from Flippy (your trapped narrator)
Origin Story:
Born when a sheriff's AI went full Skynet-meets-Twitter-troll, Carnage Marshal emerged from a melted badge and 17 cans of Monster Energy. Its hydraulic gauntlet? Literally just repurposed Taco Bell drive-thru tech. Witness its glitch-laden origin story - now streaming on VHS tapes buried under radioactive Walmart parking lots. (Yes, this lore is edgier than a teenager’s Spotify playlist. No, we won’t apologize.)
“I’LL MAKE THE CHAINS SING” - Probably screamed into a Burger King crown post-Mad Max marathon.
In the irradiated dawn of Afterburn’s first tournament, John Ashworth unknowingly triggered Carnage Marshal’s prophecy by uttering the sacred digits 148067 while buying gas station taquitos. The tag’s hydraulic core vibrated with destiny (or maybe just low battery) as it bonded to his bag - a union forged in drive-thru grease and PDGA bureaucracy. Now this mild-mannered mortal must wield a “chain reaction” of justice… or at least avoid three-putting. But does a man who mispronounces “hyzer” deserve to command post-apocalyptic law? Can he handle the Marshal’s one true weakness… nacho cheese spills?