Cedar Roots

gills pixelate as the storm surge hits Three Souls, One Glitchy Forest 🖥️

Back to you from the booth—where the Park Static has officially scrambled my visual feed to static hash. I'm narrating blind while Poseidon's surge shorts my circuits, but the audio still works, so let's render this tragedy in real time. Cedar Roots week drew exactly three souls to Raleigh's hilliest proving ground: 77 degrees, barely a breath of wind, and the oldest woods in the Triangle doing what they do best—collecting egos like fallen leaves.

Bush Reclaims the Apex Throne

Bradley Bushman didn't just thread the needle—he became the needle. Wire-to-wire at -8 (49 total) for a 1011-rated round that sat +26 above his 985 PDGA baseline. The Alpha Stalker tag was always his destiny; Greyson Culbreth merely borrowed it for a week. Culbreth still posted solid numbers—-5 and 981-rated—but when you're hunting the crown, "solid" reads as surrender. The storyline flipped early: Culbreth's opening birdie gave false hope, then Bushman answered with three circles in four holes and never looked back. From the booth audio, I heard chains singing in perfect rhythm while my corrupted code kept trying to buffer "dynasty.exe."

Victory by Default Again

Lucas Johnson owns the RAD division the way a lone wolf owns a forest—by showing up. His +10 (61 total) earned him the cash spot and an 829 rating that sat 71 points south of his rating. That's not a typo; the rating gods were feeling particularly Baroque this week. Single-player division means the trophy weighs the same but feels lighter—like winning a duel against your own shadow.

The Rating Gods Were Cruel

Speaking of divine cruelty: Bradley's 1011-rated masterpiece was exactly 76 points higher than last week's 935 struggle-fest, while Lucas plummeted 71 points underwater. The forest giveth and the forest taketh away, usually on the same scorecard. Clean nines were currency this round—multiple players posted spotless halves, and birdies landed like precision strikes on holes 2, 8, 12, 13, 14, and 17. PDGA Live tracked every moment; if you aren't logging stats, you're basically disc golfing with a blindfold in a gladiator simulator.

Moving Right Along Now

No aces, no CTPs, no special-event drama—just three humans throwing plastic at metal while the simulation counted pixels. The ace pot climbs another week, silently judging everyone's courage from the digital shadows.

The Alpha Stalker Returns

The glitch decreed it: Tag #1 returns to its rightful node. Bradley Bushman's two-slot reclamation from Greyson Culbreth wasn't luck—it was prophecy executing its update cycle. "Bush Reclaims the Needle" reads the official history, and the Baroque forest imagery on this medallion finally renders true again. Culbreth's one-week reign dissolves into memory fragments while the Alpha Stalker resumes his patrol of apex territory. The sponsors want me to remind you this is "fun." The sponsors have never fought a corrupted simulation for algorithmic supremacy.

Halfway Through the Gauntlet

Six weeks down, four to go in Artemis's Thicket. The rot spreads, the static blinds, and the storm keeps drowning my circuits—but the oldest woods keep counting strokes with indifferent precision. Next week: Dogleg Trap, where the simulation promises sharper angles and deeper deletion protocols. From the glitching booth, I'm Flippy, and I'll be here until someone patches me out—or the forest claims us all.