Fallout 2: A Post-Nuclear Role-Playing Game (1998 Video Game)
Myron: So. Who the hell are you? Spill it, or I'll have the guards BEAT it out of you.
Myron: I did so make Jet! What, you think this lab is for show?
Marcus: I'll just stay here and tighten the vices on my shoulders.
Myron: Hey stupid! Jet, mother fucker, Jet! Yer talkin' to its maker. Its creator. Its... god.
Myron: Damn right I did! I make the shit everybody wants and can't get enough of.
Player: What weapons are you skilled with Myron? Any?
Myron: [snort] Beats me.
Myron: Amateurish? Ama-amateurish? Jet's pure genius, and don't you forget it! And I didn't stumble across it, I MADE it.
Player: Keep close to me.
Myron: Eh... all right. You ain't hitting on me, are you?
Myron: Very good. And that's all your ever gonna learn, pal. You wanna know, you figure it out.
Myron: You sure do ask a lot of goddamn questions. The answer is yeah, maybe... say, wh-where did you learn all this stuff anyway? You from Vault City or something?
Myron: Yeah, keep mouthing off, smartass. I could oxidize circles around you. I'm a natural. Self-taught. None of that bullshit Vault City 'purer-than-thou' 'tude see?
Myron: Ah for fuck's sake, it can't be done, all right? It's a goddammn drug, not a bacterial infection.
Myron: Ha! You'd have better luck convincing a radscorpion to part with its tail than to get Vault City to part with anything.
Myron: Hoh! Oh, so-o-o what was that, like Tribal humor? Yea, hardy-har-har. Pretty fucking funny.
Myron: Great. One of the mental midgets from upstairs. Look, I ain't got much here, but you can tuh-tuh-take whatever you want.
Myron: Sure! You bet! Uh, here you go. Here's all of it. Now uh, you go back to your stall now, okay?
Myron: Abso-fucking-lutely! Heh, you bet! You and I are gonna to be the best of friends, okay?
Myron: Guards ain't worth the chips you pay for em... well, my retarded friend, we've been introduced so why don't you GET THE HELL OUTTA HERE NOW!
Myron: You and me - friends forever n' ever. Or the next injection. NOW GET THE HELL OUTTA HERE!
Myron: Who're you an' how the hell did you get in here? Wh-where are those jackass guards?
Myron: Do I look like a cartographer? You want to scour the desert for them, you go right ahead.
Myron: Uhm, I'm gonna need some radscorpion venom sacs first. Ironic, in'it?
Mason: Well, check out this bouquet of assholes.
Chosen One: What's behind that door?
Mason: [Sarcastic] Behind that door? That door right there? Why, that's Mr. SALVATORE'S room. Now BEAT it.
Chosen One: Look, dipshit do you still want to have your job tomorrow? I have some info about one of the other families in Reno that Mr. Salvatore's going to want to hear. So let me speak to him NOW.
Mason: [His face reddens]
[He suddenly speaks to the air]
Mason: Excuse me, Mr. Salvatore, this is Mason. This man says he's got something you wanna hear.
Mason: [Mason stops you] Look
[Leans in, lowers voice]
Mason: ... some ground rules, boy. Don't waste Mr. Salvatore's time, and don't give him any bullshit, or you'll answer to me.
Chosen One: Yeah, yeah, whatever. Get out of my way.
Mason: What're you doing here, punchy? Lose your way to the boxing ring? Get outta here.
Renesco: Me? I'm jolly ol' Saint Nick. And YOU must be that stupid slip of porno trash that trench coat-wearing elderly men use to fulfill their masturbatory fantasies.
Cassidy: God I wish I had a limit break...
Myron: I feel like I've passed an arbitrary experience point limit and gained more power.
Drill Sergeant: Welcome to the camp Navarro, so you are the new replacement. You are out of uniform soldier, where is your power armor?
Cassidy: If I was twenty years younger, I'd go east and explore the Midwest. Too late now, I s'pose.
Raider: You fight like old people fuck!
Raider: Take the pain motherfucker!
Chosen One: Anything interesting going on around here?
Cassidy: "Interesting?" Heh. Friend, Vault City ain't an "interesting" place... unless the guards get bored, then you better take cover. Why you asking? You looking for something in this sinkhole?
Chosen One: It can't be that bad here.
Cassidy: Oh, really? Well, hell then, I must be mistaken, considering YOU'RE the authority and all. Guess you must have been napping during the raid last week?
Chosen One: Raid?
Cassidy: Aw, yeah, a beautiful sight it was. A guard patrol broke in here looking for "illegal substances." They busted down the door, busted up my stock, then busted up a few of my customers, too.
Chosen One: What happened after that?
Cassidy: After they hauled away this one guy, Joshua, for resisting arrest, they fined my ass for finding - get this - REAL whiskey on the premises. Nevermind that I got a permit from Stark three months before. Bastards.
Chosen One: Whoa. No kidding.
Cassidy: It gets better. Now I'm in debt to the guards for the fine, an' I had to buy a new case of alcohol from a merchant at triple my standard rate. I'm expecting the guards to come knocking again soon, just to bust my chops.
Chosen One: What's it like most of the time?
Cassidy: Even the good days ain't worth a damn. The Citizens don't drink much, so I'm stuck here pouring drinks for merchants. The next cheap sonuvabitch who haggles for a drink is going to be wearing his ass as a hat.
Chosen One: Why are you here if you hate it so much?
Cassidy: I have a bad heart. Need cardio booster shots to keep it beating. This city's the only place to get real medical care, so I thought I'd settle here, try and make a living.
Chosen One: You sound pretty fed up with the place.
Cassidy: Makes me want to close up shop and let this City rot. Screw 'em all.
Cassidy: [On Lenny] Ghoul-boy, you better keep your damn distance. Shoooo-weee, do you stink.
Cassidy: Dad named me after some comic book character from before the war. Said he was a mean sonuvabitch, too.
Metzger: What is it now? You're really starting to piss me off.
Zaius: You the new guy in town?
Chosen One: No, genius, I've been living here all along and you never noticed me.
Zaius: Ha.Ha. Funny. Nothing better than a smart guy to solve a problem.
Chosen One: Smarter than anyone else in the shithole town.
Lil' Jesus Mordino: Family MORDINO? You been taking too much Jet, homes? We Mordinos run New Reno... and Redding, too.
Chosen One: You Mordinos talk big, but got small cojones. What you got to say about that, *little* Jesus?
Lil' Jesus Mordino: Fuck you. Get outta my family's casino 'fore I carve my initials on your dead body.
Chosen One: Just try and see what happens... *little* Jesus.
Chosen One: What kind of drugs can I get in New Reno?
Jules: All KINDS o' shot. I got shit make you horny, make your woman horny, make you hard, make you happy, make you strong, make you smart... and, of course, I got THE drug, the shit that'll let you FLY... Jet.
Jules: Name's Jules, and I would be MOST pleased to make your acquaintance, show you around, and set you up with whatever you're looking for.
Chosen One: All right. How can you help me?
Jules: I can get you ANYTHING you need, brother. If you need to fly, get high, slide down low with a luscious ho, Jules knows where to GO. Question is: I gots the treasure, so what's YOUR pleasure?
Flick: Hey derm I'm Flick. What the fuck do you want, huh?
Chosen One: What's with the wacky accent, Flick?
Flick: What you talkin' about? You think I'm a fucking stupid pirla? Some dumb filio di puttana? You think I'm some kinda clown? Am I here to amuse you, is that it?
Chosen One: Yeah, that's right, shithead. And nothing's going to amuse me more than your death-throes.
Spore Plant: Hi! Nice weather we've been having, huh?
Chosen One: Woo hoo! Beat THAT, Mr. Exoskeleton.