Jimmy: Dude, my dad is retired. Like, fully. Like his only marketable skills are watching TV and daytime drinking.



Jimmy: My brother from another mother. I mean... I-I hope so 'cause my mom was kind of a skank back in the day.



*Michael barging in to rob a jewelry store*

Ladies and gentlemen, this is your moment. Please don't make me ruin all the great work your plastic surgeons have been doing.



Michael: You gotta be kidding me! Why did I employ a hacker who can't run anti-virus software?



Trevor: I'll swing by and sign the contracts, alright? Just ignore the bodies.



Trevor: I know why they call them handlers. Because they handle like a dream.

Lloyd: This aint a toy, sir, it's heavy machinery.

Trevor: Thank f*** I'm high as a kite.



Jimmy: Hey, let's bounce.

Michael: Bounce? We're bouncing now? Is that what we're doing? Jesus f***ing Christ.



*Trevor is covered in blood after killing Wade's cousin Lloyd*

Wade: Oh Trevor, what have you got all over yourself? You're all red. Is that...is that syrup? 

Trevor: Yeah. Syrup...accident.

Wade: We've all been there. We sure have, but... but it don't taste like syrup.

Trevor: Don't taste me alright? Just... no licking.



*Michael is driving his family home after a therapy session*

Amanda: No one else gets this family. Not Dr. Friedlander, or my yoga teacher, or our tennis coach... or the juice guy, or the dog walker, or ...

Michael: Woah, hey hey...

Amanda: ... or Jimmy's third grade teacher ...

Jimmy: Or the trash guy.

Tracy: Or dad's proctologist.

Jimmy: Or the guy who thinks he's Jesus on Vescuppi Beach.

Tracy: Or the hippy bum who thinks the world is ending.



*Michael saved Jimmy from kidnappers (people he trolled online)*

Michael: Call me an idiot, but a troll, Jim? What's a troll?

Jimmy: Like a joker on the internet.

M: What sorta jokes?

J: Sorta mean jokes.

M: Like what?

J: Like someone posts something and you are like "That sucks. You suck, dick."

M:Oh. So, jokes that aren't funny?

J: No. You don't get it. The humor comes from repetition. Like, you say it once, big deal. Then you say it again, and again, and again, and again.

M: Okay

J: Like the other day, he posts a picture of his newborn, and I'm all like, "Damn son. That right there is one ugly-a** motherf***** of a baby." And I'm all like "My balls is prettier than that baby." and then I send him a picture of my balls. "I seen roadkill prettier than that baby. What the h*** is wrong with your baby?" And he's all like "Actually there's a problem with it's chromosomes," or something. and it's a miracle it survived birth." And I'm all like "It's actually a miracle I survived seeing a picture of it's ugly..."

M: Enough! Alright, e-fu**ing-nough. I get it.

J: Maybe that one was a little OTT, but it's generally really good times.

M: Yeah. Good times. Great times. The fu**ing fun you have.

"Oh please, are you really doing this for the achievement? Click a door 5 times, is THAT all that you think an achievement is worth? No no no, I can't just give these merits away for such little effort, a measly five clicks.



"I haven't finished building this section of the map, because you were never supposed to be here in the first place. Broken rooms, exposed developer textures... is this what you wanted?"



"In this game, the baby crawls left toward danger. You click the button to move him back to the right, and if he reaches the fire, you fail. It's a very meaningful game - all about the desperation and tedium of endlessly confronting the demands of family life. I think the art world will really take notice."



"Oh no no no no no. This is far too open-ended than I had in mind. I'm looking for something more narrow and linear, something that really makes you feel utterly irrelevant."



"At first Stanley assumed he had broken the map, until he heard this narration and realized it was a part of the game's design all along. He then praised the game for its insightful and witty commentary into the nature of video game structure and its examination of structural narrative tropes."



"Oh no no no no, you can't... did you just unplug the phone? No, that wasn't supposed to be a choice; how did you do that? You actually...chose incorrectly? I didn't even know what was possible."



"Ah, welcome back. You may have noticed that this room has begun to deteriorate as a result of narrative contradiction."



"Now that we know your choices are meaningful, we can't have you jumping off the platform and dying! Imagine the main character dying senselessly halfway through the story! That story would make no sense at all."



"Stanley. This is me being serious. In fact this is my serious room. It's where I come to be serious. That table is the most serious table I could find. I looked at many, many tables. Hundreds of tables. It's possible I looked at over a thousand tables.. I relate this story to impress upon you the extent to which this is the most serious room I have, which is why I've brought you here."



 "Stanley sat around waiting for more dialogue, but when a long time had passed and there was no more, he decided that the game was trying to send him a message."



"Oh, and uh, I guess this is where Stanley felt he needed to be right now, in this little hallway. Here, with no distractions, to study room 417. Not to actually enter it, no no no no, that would be far too forward. Stanley wanted to know it from the outside - to see it not just with his eyes, but with his heart. He would know room 417 as no man or woman had ever known an office before. That ladder over there! *gasp* Oh, and that little picture of a horizon or something! It's all just a never ending parade of joy for Stanley."



"My heavens! I've never met someone who can consume as much uranium in a single sitting as you can! Just look at you go!"



"Of all people I know who are playing this exact demo at this exact moment and standing in this exact room, your performance is easily in the top 5000! Top 4700 even! I wouldn't go as far as 4600..."





And finally my personal favorite, the *walk into janitor closet and sit there* dialog:



"Are you.. are you really still in the broom closet? Standing around doing nothing? Why? Please offer me some explanation here; I'm genuinely confused. You do realize there's no choice or anything in here, right? If I had said, 'Stanley walked past the broom closet,' at least you would have had a reason for exploring it to find out. Maybe to you, this is somehow its own branching path. Maybe, when you go talk about this with your friends, you'll say: 'OH, DID U GET THE BROOM CLOSET ENDING? THEB ROOM CLOSET ENDING WAS MY FAVRITE!1 XD' ... I hope your friends find this concerning. Stanley was fat and ugly and really, really stupid. He probably only got the job because of a family connection; that's how stupid he is. That, or with drug money. Also, Stanley is addicted to drugs and hookers." *a minute passes* "Well, I've come to a very definite conclusion about what's going on right now. You're dead. You got to this broom closet, explored it a bit, and were just about to leave because there's nothing here, when a physical malady of some sort shut down your central nervous system and you collapsed on the keyboard. Well, in a situation like this, the responsible thing is to alert someone nearby so as to ensure that your body is taken care of before it begins to decompose. HELLO!? ANYONE WHO HAPPENS TO BE NEARBY!! THE PERSON AT THIS COMPUTER IS DEAD!! HE OR SHE HAS FALLEN PREY TO ANY NUMBER OF YOUR COUNTLESS HUMAN PHYSIOLOGICAL VULNERABILITIES. IT'S INDICATIVE OF THE LONG-TERM SUSTAINABILITY OF YOUR SPECIES. PLEASE REMOVE THEIR CORPSE FROM THE AREA AND INSTRUCT ANOTHER HUMAN TO TAKE THEIR PLACE AT THE COMPUTER, MAKING SURE THEY UNDERSTAND BASIC FIRST-PERSON VIDEO GAME MECHANICS, AND FILLING THEM IN ON THE HISTORY OF NARRATIVE TROPES IN VIDEO GAMING, SO THAT THE IRONY AND INSIGHTFUL COMMENTARY OF THIS GAME IS NOT LOST ON THEM." *finally leave closet* "Ah, second player! It's good to have you on board. I guarantee you can't do any worse than the person who came before you."

"… Huh? The monster’s name is Claus? Its name is Claus?! That almost sounds like a persons name! But now its my robot. Not even a fragment of life remains in it. It’s Master Porky’s slave robot! It does what ever I Say! It acts on my will alone. It’s my double. It Doesn’t know anything about who you are! *cough cough* ” 

~Porky Minch