It's only that one spot you need armoured too - the one the bullet hits.

Player: Looks like drinking hasn't turned out too well for me.
Electrochemistry: MAYBE YOU HAVEN'T TURNED OUT WELL FOR YOUR DRINKING?!

Ooh, the piggies have learned to saunter up staircases. I didn't think you could do that with hooves. But - her you are.

René, you're a man with a fork in a world of soup.

If ther ever was such a thing as an ugly kid, then this is it. He's almost exquisite in his ugliness. Like a gremlin.

Mirror: A mirror hangs above a bent and broken sink. In a fierce discharge of masculine energy, someone has ripped half of the faucet off.

Conceptualization: Was this not the same elan that founds empires and lays waste to cities, virile, uncaring towards the little things?

Ancient Reptilian Brain: There is nothing. Only warm, primordial blackness. Your conscience ferments in it - no largher than a single grain of malt. You don't have to do anything anymore.
Ever.
Never ever.

Player: Never ever ever?

The furies are at home in the mirror; it is their address. Even the clearest water, if deep enough can drown.

Steps to reproduce:

1. Turn on engine
2. Try it again
3. Try it again
4. Kick the loader
5. Curse injured toes
6. I have to enter a minimum of eight steps
7. Try it again
8. It makes a rattling noise

The dead are no more concerned with their corpses than a snake is with the skin it shed.

Grace Romero: Can't imagine where she's gone. Vale's a wide place. She could be anywhere.
Player: Unless marauders got her. Then parts of her could be in a lot of places.

It's not you, it's me - I have standards.

Fine, I guess I'll just stay here and eat dirt or whatever.

Like moons make swell and wane the nescient seas, so too the sky-strewn gods ordain the tidal fates of mortal days. And yet - a notion born in lonely hours - come ebb, come flow, come all that is beyond the breadth of our dominion: be a moon unto yourself. Even the waves of fate can break upon the shores of will.