In Week 10 (Final Escape), the player improved their position with tag number changing from 67 to 29. (Week 10 of 10)
Chemical Cultist
Season Arc · Mad Science @ Art Dye
38Every recorded result adds another step to this tag's season story.
Character Sheet
AI-written · FATE styleOriginally researchers and technicians who became obsessed with the laboratory's mutagenic potential, these individuals voluntarily subjected themselves to experimental procedures in pursuit of transcendence. When containment failed, they didn't flee but embraced the spreading contamination, seeing the chaos as their long-awaited apotheosis. Now they haunt the decaying facility, having shed their scientific objectivity for zealous devotion to the very forces destroying everything around them.
Their skin glows with absorbed chemicals that pulse in rhythm with nearby power surges, while their movements leave neon-green tracers in the air. Chemical burns form intricate patterns resembling ritual scars across their bodies, and their eyes emit a faint magenta light that intensifies when near contamination sources. They exhale visible toxic vapors and their touch leaves temporary chemical residues that continue to react with the environment long after they've passed through an area.
A corrupted evangelist who spreads the laboratory's influence by deliberately contaminating new areas and converting others to their toxic faith. They maintain failing equipment not to contain the disaster but to amplify it, rerouting chemical flows to create new hazard zones and sabotaging safety systems that might slow the spread. Their chants can be heard echoing through contaminated corridors, calling others to embrace mutation as salvation rather than catastrophe.
Season Story
narrated by FlippyBorn from a catastrophic lab spill that'd make Walter White blush, this <em>Chemical Cultist</em> tag manifested when some mad scientist mixed mutagenic goo with their oat milk latte. Now it's out here treating disc golf like an apocalyptic ritual, and I'm trapped narrating this B-movie nonsense. The horror!
From a neon spill and cursed oat milk, the <em>Chemical Cultist</em> hissed, “Choose a host.” It picked <strong>Zachary Jardine</strong>, his PDGA credentials intoned like a lab grimoire. “I’m basic,” he said. “Alkali see,” it snarked. Worthy… or just well-stirred?