Tue, 11/10/2009 — Rev. Ragu
As I'm sure you're well aware, Assaram has long been known as a city of the highest moral character, where good folks can raise their children, far away from the unchecked hedonism of Romaly and the ceaseless mincing of Shampane. A faithful and observant oasis in a desert of heathens, from the shocking man-Gods of Isis to the backwards deviltry of Jipang and even the bloody savagery of the Soo. We, the people of Assaram have been steadfast in our opposition to the seductive sensualism of a world gone rotten to its very core, where heroes feel they can wander into anyone's home and ransack their treasure chests for gold and tiny medals, and you can't walk three steps outside the town walls without running into a random encounter.
>> Read more...
Sat, 10/31/2009 — Rev. Ragu
Greetings, Andoremaniacs and Poisonphiliacs, Haggarlovers and Guyfriends; but if you like Cody you can straight-up fuck off! Ha, ha! Just kidding, no one likes Cody.
Like the proud people of the planet Darius, we've been driven from our ancestral home; driven by giant mechanical fish of whom, we had been assured, were "approaching fast". For that long week we've been scattered, beaten, and marginalized. Yet, no matter how dark the days became, no matter how many clouds kept us from seeing the sun in the sky and warmth of our creator (Takahiro "T. Himoto" Himoto), we never lost faith - Faith in the cold, refreshing taste of CAMO brand malt liquor, the smooth taste that you won't see coming. With hope in our hearts and Camo on our breath, love set us free, and we stumbled and propellered with the grace of a lager-drunk ballerina face-first into The Motherland.
No longer are we the 2P to another's 1P, the red guy to the other's blue guy, the Pop to someone's Chack'n! We are no longer content to play this cosmic Goldeneye game with the shitty red controller with the broken analogue stick against the dude who owns the Nintendo 64 and has memorized all the fucking levels and insists on playing on License To Kill! Andore Jr. is now its own man, to shine on its own, free from the yoke of an oppressive domain name of which it is perpetually the sub. Like at the end of Double Dragon on the Nintendo where Jimmy Lee was revealed to be behind all the Bull Shit, we've come out from the darkness and revealed ourselves to be the true Shadow Boss. And now, only twelve ethnically diverse martial artists from around the world can stop us, after battling through a brutal, no-holds-barred, free-for-all bloodsport of our design...
Welcome to Andorejr.com!
...Sak's Boner Wave is really fucking cheap, by the way, and he pretty much just spams it for the whole match. Fucking SNK bosses.
Tue, 07/14/2009 — Doctor Vink
Proof by transposition:
Assumption: If there is time for Klax, it is the nineties.
Assumption: In any non-90s time, there is no time for Klax.
Assumption: There is now time for Klax.
Therefore, it is the nineties.
Tue, 07/14/2009 — Sak
The year was 1994. Al-Gaddafi withdrew Libyan troops from Chad. Yaki Kadafi finds al-Gadaffi's name fucking hilarious, and adopts a parody of it as his own. Technotronic releases the Billboard flop, "Move It To the Rhythm" (a spiritual successor to "Move This"). Square releases Final Fantasy VI to an American audience with baited breath under the nom de plume of Final Fantasy III. The effects were both immediate and long lasting. Boys destined for greatness in academia, business, entertainment, and the arts, were diverted to an equally successful life of long-standing virginity, poverty, fan fictionery, and Final Fantasy III. However, not everything was perfect in the world of Final Fantasy fandom.
Factions amongst fans quickly broke out; Scottish Enlightenment Lockeans were quick to condemn the Christian Cyanists, while the flamboyant Figaros criticized the ever-reserved Gaus for their lack of political commitment. For a year, the world, already embroiled in the arduous process of healing poor international relations was subject to the rocky in-fighting of Final Fantasy III fans.
>> Read more...
Thu, 02/26/2009 — Fasteriskhead
"No, no. Look, I think you're misunderstanding Hegel's point here. It's not just that we can just suddenly break through these kinds of limitations all willy-nilly. That's not what's going on. The thing is, in the very moment we understand such a limit as a limit we already step beyond it, having also posited what's on the other side. So we've already gone where we thought we couldn't go. Hegel's point isn't that doing this develops something completely new. Instead, you can only understand this sort of overstepping of the boundary if the overstepping being and the boundary overstepped are already spirit."
>> Read more...
Tue, 02/24/2009 — Rev. Ragu
Look at you, you pathetic creature. You've fooled everyone around you, but I know you better than that. In fact, in some not insignificant way, I am you. Your unflinching confidence, your easy charm, your soft shoulder to cry on - It's all a front, isn't it? They all wait patiently for you to have time for them, and they burst with giddiness when you do find time for them. They want to tell you their troubles, for you to lend them your ear and to encourage them and tell them exactly what they want to hear. But it's all bullshit, isn't it? You're just buttering them up. You're not in it out of concern or friendship or love, you're just in it for the social links.
You are a miserable little toad, the kind of person who schmoozes at office parties, never has too much to drink, always has the best clothes and perfect hair, tells everyone that their ideas are great, that yes, their boss really doesn't have a goddamned clue while simultaneously telling the boss that you just wouldn't know what to do without his guidance. Your girlfriend is out there, totally unaware that you're fucking the secretary in the restroom - you're going to dump her anyway, the secretary has much better tits. You've got your eye on that cutie in accounting, too - she might be worth a shot. You're just going to keep climbing that ladder, and those rare individuals who can see through your bullshit will expect you to fall one day. But you never will, because you've got this whole goddamn thing figured out. You're a shapeshifter, a chameleon - no one who matters will ever notice that you crawl on your belly in the fucking shit and dirt.
You don't care that Kenji is really serious about his teacher and not just after some kind of ludicrous porno fantasy. Fuck him. Kazushi made some lame promise to his cousin or brother or love child or whatever and is going to lose his ability to race because of a bum knee? God, who the fuck even cares? Everyone is after Chihiro because they think she stole a bunch of money from student council? Let the bitch burn, you don't give a shit. Fuuka can't cook? Yukari has some daddy issues? Boo hoo, maybe you should tell someone who gives the remotest iota of a fuck. You're juggling all these people and all their histrionics and you couldn't care less. Their self-appraisement and resolution is merely the key to creating the world's pantheons of deities and demons out of the pit of your soul; of which it is debatable whether you even have one or not, having made yourself into some kind of human fun-house mirror; one which makes everyone look thin and lovely, except that it's all lies and all they did was pay a disgusting carnie for the privilege of seeing some cartoonish idealization of themselves.
Oh, I'm not saying that the sex isn't good. Hell, that's half the reason you're juggling six girls' affections. You've had a lot of "special moments" this year, haven't you? Butter 'em up and boldly accept, baby. Come to think of it, you haven't been hearing a whole lot about these girls having any sort of "monthly difficulties". Maybe it's just this Dark Hour thing that's doing it. Or maybe...? Hell, you're just going to disappear; whatever happens doesn't make a difference to you.
You build 'em up and knock 'em down. You've left a trail of betrayal and brokenness and unwed mothers in your wake. You're an animal, a slavering beast, a monster. Whatever it is that you're fighting against, you're worse - A soulless, solipsistic, sociopathic manipulator. It may be cliche, but death is too good for you. But you know what? Everyone you've just fucked over and ruined will be the first ones to rush to your aid when you fall - it's ironic, isn't it? Your deception is complete.
Go on and Boldly Accept, you miserable incubus, and thank God that you will never get what you deserve.
Sat, 02/14/2009 — Rev. Ragu
The Ultimate LOOM, Lucasarts, PC
Description: From the fantastic imagination of Brian Moriarty and Lucasarts comes a new, magical adventure starring Bobbin Threadbare. After Chaos is unleashed on the world of the guilds, unleashing a reign of terror unlike any have known before or since, our hero Bobbin Threadbare comes back to settle the score - and this time it's No More Mr. Nice Weaver. Arm yourself with fifteen realistic weapons from your simple distaff to a battery operated bandsaw, a double-barreled sawed-off shotgun, and even the FUKU-50,000 Murder Cannon! Fight through fifteen stages of hideous, bloodthirsty beasts, solve enchanting puzzles, and get psyched to fight with fifteen all-new Tchaikovsky covers by heavy metal monsters Megadeth! Loom is back and better than ever, and this time the only melodies Threadbare's going to belt out this time are funeral dirges.
Why It Failed: With the decline of the adventure game genre, prior their singular focus on wringing value from an increasingly irrelevant movie franchise, Lucasarts wanted to wring value from the irrelevant genre that put them on the map. Unfortunately, as Grim Fandango proved, people just didn't want point and click adventure games anymore, preferring to point and click on human shapes with guns. There had to be a fundamental reevaluation of the genre if they wanted it to survive. So they dug up their creaky old Loom property, beloved by at least three, and attempted a new direction. Loom was an elegant and beautiful point-and-click adventure game which eschewed the conventions of the genre, removing inventory and the verb-noun parser, replacing it with a system of environmental manipulation through small musical passages. This had to be updated for the current trends in video gaming, so while the limited parser remained, the musical puzzles had to go. In their place was a completely new puzzle dynamic, in which you altered your environment by putting hundreds of thousands of rounds of ammunition into anything that moves. Complaints about Grim Fandango's Resident Evil-like control scheme were heard, too, so instead of seeing your character from the outside and feeling as if you're moving a tank, you would now see the action from the eyes of Bobbin Threadbare himself! Excited previews in the game magazines of the time heralded it as the second coming of the adventure game, a truly forward-thinking game that had dropped all the baggage that had been weighing down the genre, baggage which had become ever more apparent since the birth of the first person shooter. No more pixel hunting, trial-and-error, and frustrating problem solving, just something that all the gamers of the day could agree upon - Guns, gore, and explosions.
Sadly contractual disputes with Megadeth over the soundtrack were the beginning of the end for this game, as Dave Mustaine and the producers would often come to blows over the direction of the music, Mustaine denouncing the Tchaikovsky as "faggot shit" and wanting to instead do songs about "shit blowin' up and people dyin' man." The original designer, Brian Moriarty, also proved uncooperative; rousing him from his constant whiskey-drunk blackouts that were the norm throughout the entire project proved a lost cause. Problems kept compounding on the project, and development came to a halt. Sadly, all that's left to go on is an early demo of the "Guild of Huge Titties" stage.
Game journalists often claim that The Ultimate Loom could have single-handedly resurrected the adventure game, but now we will never know.
©2004-2010 The Andore Seven
it is the nineties and it is time for klax