Fallout: New Vegas

Robert Edwin House: I haven't shown my hand - I've shown one card. I've given my enemies a single, provocative datum upon which to fixate. They have no idea what other cards I'm holding. It's a strong hand, believe me - I dealt it to myself.

Robert Edwin House: Nothing to impede progress. If you want to see the fate of democracies, look out the windows.

Robert Edwin House: Success depends on forethought, dispassionate calculation of probabilities, accounting for every stray variable.

Caesar: You're the courier who's caused so much trouble for my Legion, and yet you dare come before me. Vulpes Inculta, the best of my frumentarii, is dead. All the bribes I sent to the Omertas ended up buying me nothing. The Great Khans aren't exactly clamoring to fight for my Legion *now*. The garrison I established at Nelson has been wiped out. Years of meticulous scheming to place a mole at Camp McCarran - wasted. The Kings of Freeside are cooperating with the NCR now, which frees up soldiers to defend the dam. You even disrupted a promising weapons deal with the Van Graffs. So tell me this, because I *really* want to know: I am feared - with good reason - but *you* of all people dare to come before *me*, the mighty Caesar. What were you thinking?

Courier: [Terrifying Presence option] That I'd decorate this tent with your guts.

Caesar: G-guards! GUARDS! HELP ME!

Mr. New Vegas: A package courier found shot in the head near Goodsprings has reportedly regained consciousness, and has made a full recovery.


Mr. New Vegas: Now *that* is a delivery service you can count on.

Mr. New Vegas: Refugees at Bitter Springs are giving startling accounts of the Legate, known as Lanius, who is said to be Caesar's top field commander. One refugee told us that "The Legate took over an *under-performing* squad of troops by beating its commander to death in full view of everyone." The Legate then ordered a tenth of his own troops to be killed by the other nine-tenths.


Mr. New Vegas: And you thought your boss was a pain.

Mr. New Vegas: Rumors persist about a super mutant refuge nestled high in a ski lodge to the northwest. If you should find it, do not, repeat, *do not* belittle a super mutant for taking the bunny slope.

Mr. New Vegas: The women of New Vegas ask me a lot if there's a Mrs. New Vegas. Well, of course there is. You're her. And you're still as perfect as the day we met.

The Lonesome Drifter: Well, I was born in a little town out Montana way. Me and Ma didn't have much, ever since my pa up and left.

Courier: [Lady Killer Perk] Wait, Montana? You wouldn't happen to be seventeen, would you?

The Lonesome Drifter: No sir, I'm twenty-eight. Why?

Courier: Oh, thank god. Nevermind. So your father left?

Courier: Wasn't the NCR's army big enough to defeat your securitrons and the Three Families?

Robert Edwin House: Indeed it was - and still is. But not without taking significant casualties. Would Kimball and Oliver have traded the lives of hundreds of soldiers for absolute control of Hoover Dam? Oh yes. They weren't afraid of me, they were afraid of Caesar - that attacking me would leave them vulnerable to a Legion offensive. And so they negotiated. Not out of the kindness of their hearts, as they try to make it seem. Because the calculus of power left no other choice.