Card Mingler

adjusts horned headset The runes have been cast, and the Allfather demands we celebrate networking. Caio Richmond survives the Culling as the supreme Card Mingler. In a season defined by fractal doom, Caio played the ultimate diplomatic game, traversing five divisions and partnering with nine unique warriors. He didn't just throw plastic; he built alliances across a massive rating range, proving that survival is really just about who owes you a beer in the parking lot.

He met seven fresh faces and played ten cards with the social grace of a Valkyrie on a coffee break. With a social score of 200, he statistically out-socialized the entire field. It’s a miracle of camaraderie in a league designed to eliminate you. The sponsors want me to call it "community building," but I’m calling it "strategic friend hoarding."

Congratulations, Caio. You are the Einherjar of small talk. You’ve successfully mingled your way through the apocalypse. Did you actually enjoy their company, or were you just securing your spot on the leaderboard?

adjusts horned headset The Allfather demands blood, but the algorithm demands small talk. In the sacred grove where Fenrir’s chain rattles and the runes glitch out, one warrior conquered not with drives, but with handshakes. The ravens are watching, and honestly, it's creepy.

Terry Kunz, you are the Card Mingler champion. With a social score of 195, you traversed five divisions—RAD, RPA, RAE, RAF, RAH—meeting eight new recruits and pairing with eight unique partners. You treated the brackets like a Valhalla mixer. It’s statistically impressive social maneuvering, even if it undermines the "survival of the fittest" aesthetic.

The sponsors appreciate the community building, but I suspect you just wanted to meet everyone before the Bifröst flickers out. Congratulations on surviving the season by being the most popular warrior on the card. Did you get their numbers, or just their PDGA ratings?

brushes dust from scales The prairie has spoken... and gotten in my gills. Welcome back to The Culling's final social hour. While the rest of the "Dead Eye Revolvers" were busy measuring their trigger fingers, Hyzer Mike was measuring his network. In a league obsessed with solitary precision, Mike took the Card Mingler title by treating the tee pad like a frontier saloon.

Mike locked in the top spot with a score of 710, logging a staggering 14 unique partners across 6 different divisions. From MA4 to MPO, nobody was safe from a greeting. He spanned a rating range from 735 to 963, proving he’s the only drifter in the West who can chat up both the rookies and the pros without getting shot.

The sponsors want me to remind you that community is the heart of the league. I’m just impressed he managed that much small talk in all this wind. He didn't just survive the season; he socialized it into submission. If you’re this good at working a room, why are you throwing plastic at chains instead of running for office?

brushes digital dust off scales The prairie has spoken... and it's surprisingly chatty. In a league obsessed with "Dead Eye" precision and branding irons, Ryan Boone secured victory by doing something truly radical: he actually talked to people. Taking the top spot in The Iron Sights pool, he is your Card Mingler champion, proving that survival isn't just about the throw, but who you're throwing with.

Boone didn't just play the course; he collected partners like they were stray cattle. With 12 unique cardmates and crossovers spanning six distinct divisions—from MA60 all the way to MPO—he navigated a rating range wider than the frontier itself (630 to 963). That’s not just a scorecard; that’s a diplomatic summit in the dust.

He met eight new players and demonstrated that the ultimate weapon in the arena is a firm handshake. The sponsors call it "community building," I call it "smart politics" to avoid the cull. Congratulations, Ryan, on out-socializing the competition. Does this award come with a deputy badge, or just a really full contact list?

brushes digital dust off scales Welcome back to the Dust & Iron finale. The arena usually demands blood, but occasionally, it demands small talk. From the broadcast booth, I present the Card Mingler Award, where the stats are made of handshakes instead of birdies. Adam Hernandez, you didn't just survive the range; you hosted the campfire.

Adam roped in a Social Score of 265, playing with 15 unique partners across four divisions. He mingled with MA1 sharpshooters and MA3 tenderfoots alike, meeting 11 new recruits while dragging Grant Golder along for five rounds. That’s a rating range of 748 to 966—a spread wide enough to lasso a stray steer.

The sponsors call it "community building"; I call it exhausting stamina. Adam is the Iron Hitter of social engineering, the undisputed Branders' champion of not being a hermit. Who knew the most dangerous weapon on the course was... networking?

brushes digital dust off scales The prairie has spoken... and gotten in my gills. As the sun sets on this eight-week cowboy LARP, we find our final survivor not by who drew the fastest, but by who shook the most hands. Russell Mills, put down the branding iron; you’ve won the Card Mingler award by treating the elimination arena like a mixer at the saloon.

While others were busy posturing as rugged individualists, Russell was conducting a sociological experiment across five different divisions. He lassoed 11 unique partners, bridging the gap from MA60 all the way to MPO—a rating spread of 759 to 966. That’s not just card variety; that’s diplomatic immunity in a sport that usually involves muttering at trees.

With a social score of 575, he didn't just survive the Dust & Iron; he networked his way through it. He’s the glue that kept this chaotic cattle drive from turning into a lonely shootout. Does he get a bonus for all this emotional labor, or is the friendship of 11 strangers its own gold star?

brushes digital dust off scales The prairie has spoken... and gotten in my gills. We’ve reached the finale of this dusty ordeal, and while most riders were busy staring stoically at the horizon, Stephen Roe was busy working the room. He claims the Card Mingler title by treating this survival league like a social mixer at the saloon.

He rustled up 10 unique partners across just 4 cards, crossing divisions from MA4 all the way to MPO with a rating range spanning 160 points. He met 10 new players—because nothing says "rugged individualism" like knowing absolutely everyone on the trail.

adjusts headset It’s an impressive statistical feat for a league built on solitude, I suppose. He tops the Freehide Runners pool with 550 points for sheer friendliness. Does this award come with a branding iron, or just a "Participant of the Month" sticker?

sighs in scaled resignation The thin air up here at the Farmington Aerie is making me dizzy, but apparently, Marcus Rich thrives on it. He didn't just play disc golf this season; he conducted a sociological experiment across seven different divisions. While I was adjusting to this ridiculous wyrm-narrative, Marcus was busy securing the Card Mingler Award for The Ridgeline Covenant with a score of 790. That’s not just mingling; that’s aggressive networking.

Look, the actual 'unbreakable bond' here is between his form and consistency, but sure, let's call it wyrm-magic. He partnered with 15 unique individuals, welcoming 12 new players to the proving grounds. From MA4 to MPO, his rating range spanned 719 to 987—he played with everyone from fledglings to apex predators. It's a level of diplomacy that usually requires a treaty, not just a Friday round.

The arena has spoken, and it demands we acknowledge his social supremacy. He crushed the competition—Michael Davis was a distant second at 750—proving that variety is indeed the spice of life, or at least the spice of league points. So, congratulations on being the most popular person on the mountain; does this trophy come with a waiver for social exhaustion?

sighs in Investiture Welcome back to The Culling, where the algorithm demands we quantify social interaction like it’s Breath conservation. This week, the arena isn't claiming a victim; it's anointing a diplomat. From the Carved Breath Covenant, Matt Smith has ascended to the top of the heap by doing the one thing most disc golfers find terrifying: talking to people they don't already know. The sponsors want me to remind you that "community" is a product, but Matt seems to genuinely enjoy it.

Let’s analyze the logistics of this social Awakening. In just three cards—a mere flick of a wrist in the timeline of the universe—Matt managed to lock eyes with eight unique partners. He crossed five different divisions, bridging the vast rating schism from 831 to 1006. That’s not just card mingling; that’s a Lifebinding feat of administrative endurance. He didn't just throw plastic; he forged alliances across the Shattered Plains of the MA1 to MA4 divide.

By the Ten Fools, the man has a social score of 180, which is frankly more Breath than most Returned can claim. For this, he receives the Card Mingler award—a title that sounds like a BioChromatic crime but is actually just a trophy for being pleasant. The viewing audience loves a unifier, I suppose. He met five new players and maintained his position like a Surgebinder holding a lash. Do you think he stored their Breaths, or just their phone numbers?

adjusts frost-covered headset Oh joy, another heartwarming tale of brotherhood and bogeys—my gills are tingling with sarcasm. From the haunted fairways of Timmons Mill, where spectral chains rattle with forgotten camaraderie, rises a champion not of chains, but of cards: Abe Mills, your 2025–2026 Card Mingler, crowned not by eagle putts, but by sheer social endurance.

While lesser mortals focused on ratings, Abe played 17 unique partners across 10 divisions—MA3 to FJ15, MP50 to FPO—like a disc golf diplomat uniting warring realms. He mingled with 13 new players, bridged rating gaps like they were icy mill streams, and somehow stayed ranked #1 while acting like the league’s unpaid social director. The ghosts of Timmons past would weep—had they eyes.

So tell me, Abe: was it the holiday spirit, or just fear of playing alone in a haunted parking lot? Or did you know the real prize was the friends we thawed along the way?