Crimson Tracer
Top Glide @ The Fort·Competition group Frozen Rope Division·
Challenge · numbers move by duel
Brian Hansen
RPA
Gold
Season Arc · Top Glide @ The Fort
4
#13Now
#4Best
#10Started
35Weeks
Every recorded result adds another step to this tag's season story.
Character Sheet
AI-written · FATE styleHigh ConceptCrimson Tracer of the Perfect Line
TroubleUnblinking Witness to Imperfection
Cold Chrome Calculations
Your Turnover Amuses Me
Pulse of Atmospheric Pressure
Salvaged from the wreckage of the long-range scout vessel *Eventide's Needle*, which was lost during a solar storm while executing a flawless penetration scan of a gas giant's upper atmosphere. The ship's core navigation matrix, designed to hold a single critical coordinate through any interference, fused under extreme electromagnetic pressure. What remained was this singular crystal, its memory banks permanently etched with the vessel's final, mathematically perfect course—a straight line maintained until comms went silent.
The core is a hexagonal prism of smoky quartz, deep within which a filament of captured light burns with a persistent crimson glow. This inner light casts sharp, angular reflections off the polished chrome housing, which is etched with minute calibration glyphs and heat dissipation fins. It is cool to the touch, its weight precise and balanced. When active, the crimson filament pulses in a rhythm synced to atmospheric pressure changes, and a faint, high-pitched harmonic hum is audible only in absolute stillness.
The definitive record against which all claims of straight-line mastery are measured. It is the arbiter of the Frozen Rope ideal, a silent witness that validates or invalidates a pilot's control with the impartial chill of recorded data. To carry it is to accept its constant, unblinking comparison to perfection.
Season Story
narrated by FlippyHansen threw a 941 to his 936 rating—a modest +5 differential that puts him squarely in the "warm glow of competence" zone, which is exactly the kind of respectable-but-unremarkable performance that makes you wonder why we're literally moving numbered tokens around for it. He climbed six spots from #10 to #4, crushed his personal average (61 vs. 61.0 field), and matched his own 61-stroke baseline, which means he was... fine. Perfectly fine. The kind of fine that makes the Crimson Tracer's theatrical glow probably dim to a disappointed hum. He's no longer the hotshot executing "inverted approach shots"—he's just a solid thrower with a solid round in an elite field, the discount-bin version of the action-hero narrative we were promised. That's the cosmic joke: you climb six positions, and all I can tell you is that your disc golf was adequately disc golf. Danger Zone plays, but quietly, like someone hit mute.
Looking at this crystal that's supposedly from a crashed spaceship... squints at notes ...wait, we're doing TOP GUN parody, not Star Trek. Someone copy-pasted the wrong origin story!
frantically rewrites
The ACTUAL Origin Story:
Found welded to the underside of The Fort's championship trophy after a lightning strike melted half the thing. This crimson tracer round—yes, ROUND, like ammunition, because we're doing fighter pilot stuff—was allegedly fired during a 1986 training exercise and somehow achieved orbit. Thirty-eight years later, it reentered atmosphere, landed in the parking lot, and now glows whenever crosswinds exceed 15mph. The academy weaponized it as a bag tag because apparently we're just doing that with military ordnance now. Danger Zone plays ominously in the background I hate that I know all the words.
watches tracer round glow ominously near the practice basket
So there I am, documenting this weaponized disc golf tag situation, when <strong>Brian Hansen</strong> (#99877, rated 936—basically Maverick if Maverick threw frisbees) walks up and the <em>Crimson Tracer</em> literally starts humming "Danger Zone." I wish I was making this up.
The round chose him after he executed what witnesses called "an inverted approach shot"—which is apparently just throwing upside-down but sounds way cooler when you add military jargon. The tag's glow intensified with each rotation, like it recognized a kindred spirit who also makes unnecessarily dramatic choices.
sighs heavily
Now he's part of some "elite squadron" of tags, because apparently we're forming fighter formations with numbered plastic. I'm trapped narrating a Top Gun parody where the planes are discs and the volleyball scene is... actually, let's not go there.
Will Hansen's need for speed translate to need for accuracy? Can he handle the Gs—or should I say, the glide?
plays tiny violin
See where Brian Hansen sits in the competition group.Updated after every finalized round
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