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Fallout 2

1998 video game

Fallout 2 (also known as Fallout 2: A Post Nuclear Role Playing Game) is a 1998 role-playing video game developed by Black Isle Studios and published by Interplay Productions. It is a sequel to Fallout (1997), featuring similar graphics and game mechanics. The game's story takes place in 2241, 80 years after the events of Fallout and 164 years after the atomic war which reduced the vast majority of the world to a nuclear wasteland. The player assumes the role of The Chosen One, the grandchild of the first game's protagonist, and undertakes a quest to save their small village on the West Coast of the United States.

Quotes

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  • Come here, Chosen One. There are things you should know.
    • The Village Elder
  • You will be faced with many challenges throughout your lifetime, and the most difficult of these will be dealing with your fellow man. There will come a time when diplomacy and tact will prove to be useless and your hand must be raised instead.
    • Cameron
  • You've gotten a lot farther than you should have, but then you haven't met Frank Horrigan either. Your ride's over, mutie. Time to die.
    • Frank Horrigan
  • What do I want? I don't really know. Most of the time I ignore my quest and walk into the homes of others, riffling through people's shelves... oooh, like those over there!
    • The Chosen One

Cassidy

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  • [On Lenny] Ghoul-boy, you better keep your damn distance. Shoooo-weee, do you stink.
  • Dad named me after some comic book character from before the war. Said he was a mean sonuvabitch, too.
  • If I was twenty years younger, I'd go east and explore the Midwest. Too late now, I s'pose.
  • God I wish I had a limit break...

Marcus

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  • Been there. Seen that. Got the scars.
  • I'll just stay here and tighten the vices on my shoulders.
  • Jacob heard the call and embraced it. So did the Vault Dweller. But no matter how many rise above, the masses will always destroy them, right?

Myron

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  • So. Who the hell are you? Spill it, or I'll have the guards BEAT it out of you.
  • Hey stupid! Jet, mother fucker, Jet! Yer talkin' to its maker. Its creator. Its... god.
  • I did so make Jet! What, you think this lab is for show?
  • Yeah, what? Can'tcha see I'm thinking here?
  • Very good. And that's all your ever gonna learn, pal. You wanna know, you figure it out.
  • 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?
  • 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?
  • Ah for fuck's sake, it can't be done, all right? It's a goddammn drug, not a bacterial infection.
  • Kee-rist. That has got to be the dumbest... hmmmm...
  • Ha! You'd have better luck convincing a radscorpion to part with its tail than to get Vault City to part with anything.
  • Hoh! Oh, so-o-o what was that, like Tribal humor? Yea, hardy-har-har. Pretty fucking funny.
  • Great. One of the mental midgets from upstairs. Look, I ain't got much here, but you can tuh-tuh-take whatever you want.
  • Sure! You bet! Uh, here you go. Here's all of it. Now uh, you go back to your stall now, okay?
  • Abso-fucking-lutely! Heh, you bet! You and I are gonna to be the best of friends, okay?
  • 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!
  • You and me - friends forever n' ever. Or the next injection. NOW GET THE HELL OUTTA HERE!
  • Who're you an' how the hell did you get in here? Wh-where are those jackass guards?
  • Do I look like a cartographer? You want to scour the desert for them, you go right ahead.
  • Uhm, I'm gonna need some radscorpion venom sacs first. Ironic, in'Mason: Well, check out this bouquet of assholes.
  • Damn right I did! I make the shit everybody wants and can't get enough of.
  • Amateurish? Ama-amateurish? Jet's pure genius, and don't you forget it! And I didn't stumble across it, I MADE it.
  • I feel like I've passed an arbitrary experience point limit and gained more power.

Sulik

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  • What can we and I do you for?
  • Grampy-bone be doing da killin' right now.

Others

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  • Mason: Well, check out this bouquet of assholes.
  • Mason: What're you doing here, punchy? Lose your way to the boxing ring? Get outta here.
  • Sergeant Arch Dornan: Welcome to the camp Navarro, so you are the new replacement. You are out of uniform soldier, where is your power armor!?
  • Raider: You fight like old people fuck!
  • Raider: Take the pain motherfucker!
  • 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.

Dialogue

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Chosen One: I had some questions...
Myron: Yeah, what's on your mind?
Chosen One: Tell me about Jet.
Myron: We've been over this. I'm not here to be your memory.
Chosen One: You'll be a corpse if you don't answer my question. How did you create Jet?
Myron: Uh, in my lab. Next question.
Chosen One: HOW did you develop it, smart guy?
Myron: Ah, Christ. Well...when I came across the Mardino family way back when, they were farming peyote cacti and trying to sell it to tourists as the "Reno Expericence." Total bullshit.
Chosen One: Go on.
Myron: I mean, peyote? C'mon, it isn't even half the strength of say, old school LSD.
Chosen One: Uh, about the Jet --?
Myron: Plus, a peyote trip is too long. The profit's in fast turn around and high addiction. Like, uh, barbitutates before the Big One, y'know?
Chosen One: I hope this is leading somewhere.
Myron: Problem is, in the new climate, we can't grow most of the veggies needed for the best drugs.
Chosen One: You just like hearing yourself talk, right?
Myron: Couldn't grow coca plants, opium poppies -- and man did we try -- so we figured our best bet was shrooms.
Chosen One: Why?
Myron: You can grow 'em of you use plenty o' brahmin shit as fertilizer.
Chosen One: Speaking of plenty of shit...Go on.
Myron: Plus, hallucinogens have low overheads, so I started experimenting with derivatives of lysergic acid diehtylamide and psilocybin. Still...
Chosen One: Still...?
Myron: Still, I really wanted to whip up a hard-hitter that didn't rely on veggie extracts. Man, was I an idiot, 'cause the answer turned out to BE the extracts, or, more precisely, what they were growing IN.
Chosen One: How do you mean?
Myron: See, old Jesus Mardino wanted something that the Redding miners would get addicted to fast AND make them work harder. So, I said, 'no prob,' right?
Chosen One: Right. Go on.
Myron: Well, it wasn't too hard to come up with a good upper. A sample of that pre-war protein extract, corrupt it and bam -- decent amphetamine.
Chosen One: Uh, "protein extract?"
Myron: Before the Big One some meat companies were experimenting with a cheap protein extract for growing food, but they had to ditch it. One little skin bacteria contaminates it, and it's all screwed.
Chosen One: Screwed? How?
Myron: The contaminated version acted like an amphetamine when ingested. Little side effect. Don't ask. It's, uh, technical.
Chosen One: So...did you somehow get a hold of this protein extract?
Myron: I din't have to. When they first screwed it up, they contaminated tons of that shit. So, rather than ditch it, they fed it to their brahmin herds to try and recoup their losses.
Chosen One: So you used brahmin shit as fertilizer for the shrooms, except the pre-war protein contamination gives whatever shrooms grown in brahmin shit...certain extra ingredients?
Myron: Close...
Chosen One: Yes...?
Myron: See, we started experimenting with the brahmin shit as fertilizer for the shrooms, except get this: then, we noticed slaves working the fertilizer vats were getting high from the fumes...
Chosen One: So the fumes were enough to produce the effect?
Myron: Riiiight.
Chosen One: I thought so.
Myron: By putting tons of brahmin shit in the vats, we found out the fumes give off more than enough of a kick. Eureka. Literally. 'Course, we had to test to get the mix right...
Chosen One: How much testing exactly?
Myron: Hmm...about a hundred slaves? Mostly heart attacks, cerebral hemorrhages, psychotic episodes...that sort of thing...
Chosen One: Are you insane? You killed a hundred human beings just for drug testing!?
Myron: Well, not on purpose. I mean, slaves are expensive. Still, we made the money back in the first few months, so the Mardino family wasn't too pissed at me.
Chosen One: Myron, you killed more than a hundred human beings just for drug testing? Did you get your conscience lobotomized when you were a kid?
Myron: You're getting bent at me over a bunch of slaves? Hey, we had to make sure Jet didn't kill our customers.
Chosen One: Oh, well, THAT makes it all right, then.
Chosen One: What weapons are you skilled with Myron? Any?
Myron: [snort] Beats me.
Chosen One: Keep close to me.
Myron: Eh... all right. You ain't hitting on me, are you?
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.) 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) 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.
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.

Voice actors

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