The Dig (1995 Video Game)
Brink: Come here, you phlegm-carapaced slime-faced mucus-brained furry-legged abductor of luminously intelligent but pulchritudinous Earth woman!
[He notices that Low hasn't moved]
Brink: Low, you idiot! Why are you standing there?
Boston Low: I'm still trying to figure out what you said.
Brink: MOVE YOUR SILLY BUTTOCKS, YOU FOOL!
Maggie Robbins: Do you have a name?
The Creator: I had a name once, when I was alive. But now that I am again and again dead, what need have I for names? My body is now so ancient, that the Crystal scarcely holds any power over me. I rise for a few minutes, and then I fall again. Soon, I shall cease to rise at all. Only then will my grief end. I want no name or memory to live after me.
Brink: Your name will go down in history as the boneheaded space idiot who destroyed precious data at the first alien archeological site.
Boston Low: That's better than having my name go down in history as the commander of a space expedition that disappeared and was never heard from again.
Boston Low: Well, there's plenty of water here. If it's drinkable, we won't die right away.
Boston Low: [pause] We'll have plenty of time to starve to death.
Brink: [after having travelled many times faster than the speed of light and landing on an alien planet] I feel like someone turned me inside out twice.
[Boston has found some metal plates]
Boston Low: Tell you what: I'll keep looking for more of them, and you decipher that language so we can read the directions.
Maggie Robbins: Great. You get to look for metal things lying around, while I have to decode a completely alien language without any information about how they think or what they might be writing about. Yeah, that's a fair division of labor.
Boston Low: [after both Robins and Brink have left him] I'm beginning to take this personally. Nobody wants to stay with me. Maybe it's my deodorant. I think it failed somewhere back there on Attila.
[a little rodent steals a machine part, causing an open door to shut tight]
Boston Low: The way things have been going, I can pretty much bet that whatever that little beast just stole, I'm gonna want it pretty badly in a minute or two.
[the rodent steals the machine part again, causing the door to shut, locking Boston inside the room]
Boston Low: No! Why is that door closing? He didn't steal that part again, did he? I'm trapped in here?
[He watches through a crack in the wall]
Boston Low: There he is, that same little thief, holding onto the part he just stole. I'm warning you! You better not be laughing at me, because I'll have roast critter to eat before I starve to death in here!
Maggie Robbins: [about Brink] He is definitely insane.
Boston Low: Is that your opinion as a journalist?
Maggie Robbins: It's my opinion as a sane person.
Boston Low: I just want you to know, you've got my vote, Cora.
Cora Miles & Newsperson: It's no use Boston. I won't make you head of NASA.
Boston Low: If I'd known we'd be making contact with an alien species, I'd have worn my Sunday best.
Maggie Robbins: What's that? A t-shirt with *no* holes?
The Creator: The Eye may be open, but the mind hasn't the strength to see.
[Upon arrival of the planet]
Boston Low: Toto, I don't think were in Kansas anymore
Maggie Robbins: [giggles] If only I had ruby slippers.
[Dr. Ludger Brink's hand is stuck in a crevice in the wall]
Brink: I don't care if you have to cut off my hand, just don't leave me to die here!
Maggie Robbins: Don't be so dramatic Brink; nobody is going to cut off your hand.
Boston Low: Don't make promises you might not be able to keep Maggie.
Boston Low: Did you do anything to attract that monster to you?
Maggie Robbins: I don't wear perfume, and heaven knows this outfit isn't exactly alluring. I was just sitting there.
Boston Low: I guess that's enough.
Maggie Robbins: That's usually enough for lonely men in bars.
Brink: What, you think this is wwhere aliens end up when they die? If it is, then this place better be hell, because it sure isn't my idea of heaven.
Boston Low: IF they can make bridges out of light, you have to wonder if they can make anything ELSE.
Maggie Robbins: You mean... Light beer?
Boston Low: I was thinking more of a light house.
Boston Low: [player clicks same conversation trigger] Light-minded.
Maggie Robbins: Light-fingered.
Boston Low: Light summer clothing.
Maggie Robbins: Light-hearted.
Boston Low: Light salad dressing.
Maggie Robbins: De-lighted!
Brink: Come here, you phlegm-carapaced, slime-faced, mucus-brained, furry legged abductor of luminously intelligent but pulchritudinous Earth women!
Cora Miles: My rule is: if you can pick it up, take it with you, cause you never know when you might need it.
Ken Borden: I have the same rule, Cora, but I thought it only applied to women in bars. If you can pick her up -
Ken Borden: .
Cora Miles: [Laughs] Careful, Ken. You don't wanna find yourself getting quoted as a sexist pig in Maggie's article.
Maggie Robbins: I'm not here to spy on you.
Boston Low: Lighten up, Robbins, they're just teasing you. If they thought you were *really* a spy, they'd never talk freely on the open frequency.
Boston Low: [after arming the explosives on the asteroid] This asteroid has a pair of landing lights now, kids. Stick a fork in us, we're done.
Maggie Robbins: Who writes your material, Commander?
Boston Low: I get it all out of the newspapers, Robbins.
Ken Borden: Explosives armed. Houston gives us the go-ahead. Say when, boss.
Boston Low: Do it.
Ken Borden: Now let's see, is it the big green triangle, or the little red circle?
Cora Miles: Shut up and push, Ken.
Boston Low: It's hot in here. And it's glowing down there.
[Camera goes down to reveal a big machine below]
Boston Low: Ten to one it's the power source for this place. All I need to do now is to find the light switch. Or the plug. Or the fusebox. Or whatever makes this thing work. An instruction manual might help! Maybe a map! And I could use a sandwich. And a hot jukebox and a cold beer!
Boston Low: Get a grip, Boston.
Boston Low: [after opening a mechanical door] So what is through this door? A death trap? A mad scientist with a pretty girl and a talking robot? An alien cafeteria? Why am I just standing here? After all, as Brink found out, the worst thing that can happen is you can take one wrong step and you're dead.
[He walks through the door to find an empty stone platform]
Boston Low: So much for the cafeteria idea.
Boston Low: That'll teach you guys not to mess with Boston Low, Space Commander!
[Boston has resurrected the Creator]
Boston Low: He's very tall. Or I'm very small. I wish I didn't keep thinking of the term 'Bite-size'. Please be friendly. I hope you're friendly. I'm certainly friendly. Let's all be friends.
[a large lobster like creatyre blocks Boston's path]
Boston Low: If I go there, it's lunchtime. *His* lunchtime.
Brink: Come on, you ponderous exoskeleton, you cocoon-eating lobster-faced cave-dwelling arthropoidal alimentary sphincter muscle!
Maggie Robbins: Maggie, you made it!
Maggie Robbins: How's my hair?
Boston Low: You're worried about your...
Maggie Robbins: I was joking, Boston. You know, like you strong manly tupes do when you just about get killed.
Boston Low: I never would have found out anything from the map room if there hadn't been all those engraved keys lying around. Almost as if they were left for us.
Maggie Robbins: Only intelligent beings would have been able to figure out how to use them.
Boston Low: Maggie, that's the sweetest thing you've ever said to me.
Maggie Robbins: I meant, any being over the intellectual level of, say, a baboon.
Boston Low: Aw, now you're making me blush.
Boston Low: There are some things Man was not meant to understand.
Maggie Robbins: Yeah, but this one even Woman is having a hard time with.
Boston Low: I just want you to know, you've got my vote, Cora.
Cora Miles & Newsperson: Does this mean you've forgiven me for putting a leak in your catheter on your first launch?
Ken Borden & Reporter: ...whether the stone hits the glass or the glass hits the stone, it ain't gonna hurt the stone.
Boston Low: Another one of these engraved sticks. What are they, wands, batons, bludgeons? Maybe some kind of hand held computer game. With my luck, it's a hand grenade.
Boston Low: [talking to bones of a dead animal] You just need a little something to make you complete, my friend.
Boston Low: [puts an explosive in the bones] How about a little alien explosive device?
Boston Low: That'll teach you to mess with Boston Low: Space commander!
Boston Low: [Player examines bat-like creatures on the ceiling of a cave] Disgusting bat-things. I HATE disgusting bat-things.
Boston Low: [player shines a flashlight on bat creatures] It's amazing how parallel evolution on two different worlds made bats look completely weird and disgusting in both places.
Boston Low: [Player shines the flashlight on the creatures again] It's kind of fun to disturb these bat things and make them fly around.
Boston Low: [Player shines the flashlight on the creatures again] 'Course, if I keep doing this, one of them is bound to put some guano on my head.
Boston Low: [Player shines the flashlight on the creatures again] Ah! Guano! Right in my eye.
Maggie Robbins: Did you invent the life crystals? To raise the dead is the greatest achievement we've seen.
The Creator: What raises the dead can debase the living.
Maggie Robbins: The creatures who live here now - did you people make them, or did they come later?
The Creator: Millions of years have passed since then. What once were pets or companions have followed their own evolutionary paths. They have become as beautiful or as terrible, as clever or as stupid as it was in them to be.
Cocytan Leader: There will be friendship between our species forever.
Maggie Robbins: I hope you're right. Not all human beings are as, uh, *nice* as us.
Cocytan Leader: Oh, I know that. All young species are alike that way. But don't worry. If any of your people try to pick a fight... we'll mash them like bugs.
Boston Low: How reassuring.