Tue, 06/22/2010 — Sak

For years, Shouichi "ANGELA" Yoshikawa created tiny nuggets of solid video game gold. Nuggets that, while perhaps not the most polished -- or maybe not even the most fun, are without a doubt some of the most earnest examples of programming and design that the medium has to offer. For over ten years, ANGELA has ostensibly working on an online compendium of his Gesamtwerk. Included amongst these gems include everything from his contributions to video game design -- such as the elusive and lauded Block Gal -- to his video game related poetry and music; including his lyrics and music to one of the Phantasy Star Online games. We shit you not!

One crucial piece of the Angela puzzle has been missing for ten years, however. For ten years, Mr. Yoshikawa has promised his loyal fans a glimpse into the inner workings of a certain mysterious character. With the knockin'-on-heaven's-door legs of Tina Turner, the Italian-so-therefore-ample bosom of Edwige Fenech, and the eyes of, like, every anime character ever, Cherry Grace has been cet obscur objet du désir of the ten year old inside of every man who popped in a copy of "Golgo 13: Top Secret Episode" back in 1988. Though, as if in a Desclosian twist of fate, we have been able to control her body, but not her mind. What makes her tick? What's going on in that big brain of her's? What motivates her blowjobbery?

Only Angela knows the answers, and he's not telling. Until now. We encourage all Andore readers and fans to write to Mr. Yoshikawa at: Please be courteous and kind! Don't demand a Cherry Grace ROOM, but rather, let Mr. Yoshikawa know that his creation was one that we all enjoyed -- and some of us really fucking enjoyed -- in our youth. Remember, Angela holds the key to our destruction as much as he does our salvation.


Tue, 01/13/2009 — Rev. Ragu

Gentle readers; as Fasteriskhead previously announced, we have been bought out by Camo Brewing. While this means that the terrible convulsions and cold sweats are finally over, it does also mean that we're a shell of what we once were - an Andore One Point Four to our former Andore Seven. But we've promised to bring you the same top shelf video game laffs for bottom shelf prices. Just like Camo brand Malt Liquor, we're the smooth taste that creeps up on you. Due to contractual obligations and certainly not because of extreme chemical dependency fueling a desperate need to satisfy our new sugar daddy corporate overlords, we're going to keep bringing you more and more of our unique takes on the wild 'n wacky world of video games with our usual intelligence and irreverent wit. So climb into your comfiest chair, sip and savour an ice cold Camo, and come along with me for the show!


>>


Wed, 01/07/2009 — Sak

Gentlemen, welcome to war. Don't tell me that you've been in the shit unless you were in the Great Konamiland Wars of 1989. Belmonts and Mad Dogs, Scorpions and Big Bosses alike all lost a little somethin' over there. Overseas, they don't give a shit if you have a 2P back home, or about the city bombers that you left behind, and they sure as fried double dribbl'd shit don't care about your Bro. Wesson and Bro. Smith.

I can still smell the shit on my boots and the hairspray in the air, man. Trudgin' knee deep in that fuckin' loam, man. And for what? For what? So those fuckers back home won't even release Break Shot? Do you know what it's like to watch an anthropomorphic penguin die in your arms? Not a pleasant experience, let me tell you. Do you know what it was like to tell Hanako that she wouldn't be able to grow old (up to about 24 years) with her husband? Ain't too fuckin' pretty.

>>

RE4: Stranger

Wed, 01/04/2006 — Brooke

The dirt path gave way to puddled ruts as Leon stumbled away, his breath ragged and cracked with sobs. Tears cutting through the grime and crusted fluids on his face. The mud splashed his clothes, permanently discolouring his vintage bomber jacket that he completed Resident Evil 2 fourteen times to get. But it was nothing to the stain left on his purity when Ada had tried to touch him, to - he could scarcely bear to think of it now - to kiss him.

>>

Dark Shadows Revisited

Mon, 01/02/2006 — Brooke

(As Video Game Character Polio Awareness Month has been unceremoniously changed to Erotic Video Game Fanfiction Appreciation Month, we at Andore thought it might be prudent to revisit one of the earliest and finest pieces of the genre to ever grace our collective screens while FALL OF THE COLOSSUS: PART THREE is being finalized. Mysteriously sent to my inbox back in 2002 by an author only known as 'ScArReD Tissue', this piece has it all: action, betrayal, lust, and true love. Look upon this work, ye mighty, and despair.)

Dark Shadows
An erotic discourse by
ScaRrRed Tissue

Soft weeping rang through the otherwise silent castle, eching through the empty halls like the pealing of mourning bells. The castle had never been a cheerful place, but when Yorda wept it became downright miserable. She did not cry often - experience with her mother the Queen had taught her otherwise - but this day she could not help it. They had been so close to escape when the bridge had drawn apart...and now she was back in her cage, far about the floor. She would never escape now. Thunder rumbled in the distance, adding a sad beat to her own sobs.

>>

The Fall of the Colossus - Chapter 2

Sun, 01/01/2006 — Bloiffy

Wander's feet felt like lead, his head was dead, filled with bread. He pulled himself forward, step by step, his huge muscular legs, like slender treetrunks, propelled by the Power of Love. Another few paces and he'd be atop the flight of stairs leading into the shrine, and his lover, his onee-sama, his angel-tenshi-princess... she would be among the living once more.

Atop the stairs, he heard the delicate whinny of his own dear Aggro. He began to call out to his steed, until his eyes fell upon the pedestal on which Mono, his own dear love, had been laid.

What in Dormin's name is this?

There, writhing in shameful, painful, maneful esctasy, was Mono. She had awoken!! The spell was broken!! Her clothes were ... soakin'?

Soaken, like Wander's had been with the blackened, tangy black blood of boundless colossi brethren.

Soaking ... with betrayal.

Betrayal and horse semen.

>>

Christine's Wander and the Colossus fanfixtion [PART 1 OF 2]

Wed, 12/07/2005 — Bloiffy

The Wanderer awoke, alone, alone again, once more. The wind whistled through pillars, bathed in bleak light. The light of an almost-lost hope.

He pulled himself up, painfully, slowly, inorexorably to his feet, and surveyed himself. Clothes, tattered, torn, worn to shreds, skin blackened and hair shorn, no longer the colour of corn. He staggered out into the misty morn.

"Blorn," he said, mouth full of muck and vomit. His face, once soft and pure like an angel's, was now covered in scars. The mud was only washed away by tears, two rivulets marked cleanly down the sides of his face.

"LO," said the voice of God, high above, high and mighty and soaring above, like the wings of loving love he felt for Mono. Mono, who lay dead, died for him, his sins. His lust. Needs must. He'd do a deal with this God of Hellfire, and bring fire to the Colossi. The voice continued, echoing down upon him: "THOU HAST TO PRITHEE MILADY TO THINE SIXTEENTH COLOSSUS BETWIXT HITHER AND THITHER AND THINE SHALL FIND DEATH IN THE BRINE, CALVIN KLEIN."

>>

©2004-2010 The Andore Seven