Damn You, Gorgar, For Making Me Love You

I thought you were silly. When I saw your backglass, I thought, "Why?"

When the opportunity came to pick you up on the cheap, I lunged at you, fully intending to clean you up and shortly after trade you for a game I wanted more.

Because you're so cheesy.

Why is there a big fist headed towards a woman's bikini area?

Why is there a fellow in a Mexican wrestling mask placing the woman on an altar?

Did the artist intend for pastel vomit to decorate the backglass?

Now that I have you here, I see there's a beauty in the way the playfield is layed out. The placement of the drop targets is perfect, I really like the location of the kickout hole and, sweet damn, the magnetic serpent is really cool.

Your heartbeat? The droning and the gradual speeding is pulling me closer to your affection. And your speech, it's a limited vocabulary that lets me know you need a little help to communicate with the rest of the world and let your story be told.

I'll tell them Gorgar. I will tell them.