Neon Requiem
Flight Club @ Urban Forest·Competition group Pool A·
All-In · only the number moves
Kevin Harrison
RPA
Gold
Season Arc · Flight Club @ Urban Forest
1
#16Now
#1Best
#1Started
33Weeks
All-In league: Neon Requiem stays with its holder — only its number moves with each week's standings.
Character Sheet
AI-written · FATE styleHigh ConceptTag #0: Neon Requiem
TroubleLost in the Database Void
Awaiting Narrative Discovery
Flippy's Sarcasm Intensifies
The AI Said No Today
Born from the last transmission of a hijacked billboard in 1997, Neon Requiem was scrawled in light across the city skyline during a blackout tiebreaker no one was meant to survive. Witnesses claim the disc never landed—it phased into the grid, becoming signal instead of object. Now it names those who refuse to be grounded, whose rhythm matches the pulse of the Chaintrix’s hidden frequency.
It hums with residual static, a low-frequency vibration felt in the jawbone before the throw. The surface doesn’t reflect light—it emits it, faint orange tracing the spin like a CRT’s dying breath. When dropped (though none who bear the name ever have), the ground rejects it, sending it skimming forward in defiance of gravity and rule.
Silence cracks open at its approach, the air thinning like tape on rewind. Champions marked by Neon Requiem don’t compete—they conclude.
Season Story
narrated by Flippyadjusts headset, static crackles Welcome to the Midnight Launch—where silence is sacred and the Chaintrix is glitching. Kevin Harrison didn’t just play; he resonated. Tag #0, Neon Requiem, reignited like a VHS tape rewound through time. No drop. No sound. Just flight. The arena’s verdict? Champion by frequency, not force. They said it was lost in ’97—turns out, it was just buffering. drops mic, it floats This isn’t disc golf. It’s signal warfare. And the grid’s got a new carrier. Spoiler: the plastic was never the point.
Forged in the glow of a dead city’s final flicker, Neon Requiem isn’t a tag—it’s a frequency. It doesn’t wait for players; players earn the right to carry its hum. Legends say it once was a disc, until the Chaintrix absorbed it during a blackout duel scored in blood and static. Now it chooses only those who throw like they’re short-circuiting fate. The plastic? Optional. The glow? Mandatory. Lose it, and it rolls uphill just to spite you. Welcome to the signal. Don’t blink.
adjusts headset Tonight on The Culling: Kevin Harrison thought he was just buying a beat-up putter at a garage sale. He didn’t know the disc was a carrier. The signal had been dormant—Tag #1, Neon Requiem, last seen blinking out over the city in ‘97. But when Kevin ripped that first putt at midnight, the tag flared to life, humming in his bag like it remembered his throw from another life. The Chaintrix has a new frequency. And the grid just welcomed back its lost transmission.
See where Kevin Harrison sits in the competition group.Updated after every finalized round
League Ladder