Spanish Fork Steel

Ghost Town Steel Meltdown 😐

adjusts headset with a rattle of digital dust Welcome back to the booth, where the Spanish Fork Steel foundry hums with autonomous ambition and I'm contractually obligated to narrate three souls chasing plastic through a clear-skied ghost town. The machines began moving on their own at night this week, which is frankly less unsettling than the turnout—75.5°F, winds at 8.1 mph, Urban Forest at its most rugged, and exactly three competitors brave enough to test their ghost-rock augmentations against the Deadlands' indifference. The mad science arms race continues, even if the lab feels a bit... empty.

Lead Changes in the Dust

Over in the RAD division, Kieran Buhler and Jon Atwater staged a back-and-forth duel that would've felt epic with a full card and feels downright cinematic with just two. Kieran struck first after hole 6, snatching the lead with a clean stretch, but Jon reclaimed control after holes 8 and 16—threading a five-hole par train from 7 through 11 that kept the pressure simmering. The decisive moment came on hole 15, where Kieran scrambled out of OB territory like a prospector dodging a claim jumper, salvaging par and ultimately closing at -1 with an 890-rated round. Jon finished at +1, 865-rated, proving that even in a two-man shootout, the margin between remembered and forgotten is exactly two strokes at Urban Forest.

The Sheriff Rides Alone 🐎

John Ashworth walked into the RPA division as the sole competitor and walked out with a wire-to-wire -4, 927-rated masterpiece that would've been impressive against a hundred players. His front nine was immaculate—zero bogeys, a clean scorecard that read like a love letter to the technical precision of Urban Forest's dirt fairways and cottonwood corridors. Ashworth posted sole birdies on holes 4 and 14, claiming the only red numbers on those baskets across the entire field. The Obsidian Decree holder remains untouchable, even when the only person he's competing against is the course itself.

The Lonely Birdie Club

With only three players in the foundry, you'd think birdies would be abundant. Instead, eight holes—4, 5, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, and 16—featured sole birdies, meaning exactly one person cracked par on each. That's not just challenging conditions; that's Urban Forest flexing its rugged, weed-choked personality. Kieran's 890-rated round and Ashworth's 927-rated statement both deserve recognition as round-of-the-day honors, though I suspect the 927 carries a bit more weight in the Deadlands' eternal ledger.

The Pot That Won't Die 💀

The Super Ace Pot continues its inexorable climb, now sitting at a tantalizing $3,482.00 after two contributors added $4.00 to the split pot configuration. The "LETS GOOOO" enthusiasm is palpable, even as the chains remain unrattled by any ace. The pot grows. The suspense builds. The foundry's machines watch, waiting for someone to earn their payday.

Grave Meridian Takes a Fall

The AllIn reshuffle delivered its usual frontier justice. John Ashworth defended the Obsidian Decree in Pool A, the volcanic glass shard pulsing with red acknowledgment of his continued worthiness. Meanwhile, Russell Watters—holder of the Grave Meridian tag—sat out this week and paid the price, demoted to the bottom of the rankings by the unforgiving AllIn system. The tag art tells the story: a palm-sized shard of darkness, impossibly sharp, edged with spectral red veins. Impermanence is the only constant in the Deadlands; hold a tag today, and absence will bury you tomorrow.

Machines Watch You Sleep ⚙️

This week, the machines began moving on their own at night—autonomous augmentations testing their independence in the foundry's darkness. Next week, fuel shortages force competitors into darker tactics: sabotage each other's gear or watch your own ghost-rock engine fail mid-round. The race for survival is entering its mechanical twilight, where the augmentations that keep you alive might be the very things that betray you. The Deadlands don't care about your upgrades, partner. They only care who's still standing when the fuel runs dry.