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BioShock is a 2007 PC, Xbox 360 and Playstation 3 game chronicling a plane crash survivor's discovery of an underwater society named "Rapture" and the consequent exploration of the events behind the now dystopian society.


  • They told me... "Son... you're special. You were born to do great things." And you know what? They were right.

Radio Announcements[edit]

  • A Rapture reminder: We all make choices, but in the end our choices make us.

Little Sisters[edit]

  • I can see the angels, dancing in the sky.
  • Don't be a slow poke, Mr. B. Angels don't wait for slowpokes.
  • Chocolate is better than grapes! Chocolate is better than grapes! Chocolate is better than grapes!
  • There's a land called Lillipoppy, and living there is the Lillipop! I'll go there soon with Mr. Bubbles, and we'll search the place from tail to top. And if we find no Tattlelambie, and if I eye no Porkinot, perhaps we'll dine on ham and jammie, if we can't find the Lillipop!
  • Save me, Sir Bubbles!
  • It's like they're dancing, Mr. B!
  • Who looks after angels? I do...I do...
  • No, Mr. Bubbles! Please, get up! Mr. Bubbles! Why won't you move?
  • Mmm, I'm ready for dream-time, Mr. B.
  • Time for a nap, sweet angel.

Andrew Ryan[edit]

  • I am Andrew Ryan, and I'm here to ask you a question. Is a man not entitled to the sweat of his brow? 'No!' says the man in Washington, 'it belongs to the poor.' 'No!' says the man in the Vatican, 'it belongs to God.' 'No!' says the man in Moscow, 'it belongs to everyone.' I rejected those answers; instead, I chose something different. I chose the impossible. I chose... Rapture. A city where the artist would not fear the censor; where the scientist would not be bound by petty morality; where the great would not be constrained by the small! And with the sweat of your brow, Rapture can become your city as well.
  • Whenever anyone wants others to do their work, they call upon their altruism. 'Never mind your own needs', they say, 'think of the needs of...' whoever. The state, the poor, the army, of the king, of God. How many catastrophes were launched with the words: 'Think of yourself'? It's the King and Country crowd who light the torch of destruction. It is this great inversion - this ancient lie - which has chained humanity to an endless cycle of guilt and failure.
  • A man chooses; a slave obeys.
  • We all make choices, but in the end, our choices make us.
  • Why worship a flag or god, when we can worship that which is best in us, our will to be great.
  • It wasn't impossible to build Rapture at the bottom of the sea. It was impossible to build it anywhere else.
  • I believe in no God, no invisible man in the sky. But there is something more powerful in each of us, a combination of our efforts, a great chain of industry that unites us. But it is only when we struggle in our own interests that the chain pulls society in the right direction. The chain is too powerful and too mysterious for any government to guide. Any man who tells you differently either has his hand in your pocket or a pistol to your neck.
  • What is the difference between a man and a parasite? A man builds, a parasite asks, 'Where's my share?' A man creates, a parasite says, 'What will the neighbors think?' A man invents, a parasite says, 'Watch out, or you might tread on the toes of God...'
  • On the surface, I once bought a forest. The Parasites claimed that the land belonged to God, and demanded that I establish a public park there. Why? So the rabble could stand slack-jawed under the canopy and pretend that it was paradise earned. When Congress moved to nationalize my forest, I burnt it to the ground. God did not plant the seeds of this Arcadia; I did.
  • On the surface, the Parasite expects the doctor to heal them for free, the farmer to feed them out of charity. How little they differ from the pervert who prowls the streets, looking for a victim he can ravish for his grotesque amusement.
  • This Fontaine fellow is somebody to watch. Once, he was just a menace, to be convicted and hung. But he always manages to be where the evidence isn't. He's the most dangerous type of hoodlum... the kind with vision.
  • On my walk today I had my first encounter with a pair of them: he, a lumbering palooka in a foul smelling diving suit; and she, an unwashed moppet in a filthy pink smock. Her pallor was off, green and morbid. There was a rather unpleasant aspect to her demeanor, as if she were in an altogether different place than the rest of us. I... understand the need for such creatures. I just wish they could make them more presentable.
  • Rapture is coming back to life. Even now, can't you hear the breath returning to her lungs? The shops reopening, the schools humming with the thoughts of young minds? My city will live. My city will thrive. And, when that day comes, we'll use your tombstone for paving tiles.
  • Imagine the will it took to create a place like this. And what have you built? Nothing. You can only loot and break. You're not a man, you're just a termite at Versailles.
  • Before the final rat has eaten the last gram of you, Rapture will have returned. I will lead a parade. "Who was that," they'll say, as they point at the sad shape hanging on my wall. "Who was that?"
  • A man builds a city at the bottom of the ocean. That's a marvel. Another man happens to be on a plane that crash lands on the same city in the middle of the ocean. Why, that sounds more like... a miracle.
  • Even in the book of lies, sometimes you find truth. There is indeed a season for all things. And, now that I see you flesh-to-flesh and blood-to-blood, I know I cannot raise my hand against you. But know this: you are my greatest disappointment.
  • Does your master hear me? Atlas! You can kill me, but you will never have my city! My strength is not in steel and fire, that is what the parasites will never understand. A season for all things: a time to live, and a time to die. A time to build, and a destroy!
  • Could I have made mistakes? One does not build cities if one is guided by doubt. But can one govern in absolute certainty? I know that my beliefs have elevated me, just as I know that the things I have rejected would have destroyed me. But the city... it is collapsing before my... have I become so convinced by my own beliefs that I have stopped seeing the truth? Perhaps. But Atlas is out there, and he aims to destroy me, and destroy my city. To question is to surrender. I will not question.


  • Would you kindly?
  • I don't know how you survived that plane crash, but I've never been one to question providence. I'm Atlas: and I aim to keep you alive.
  • Plasmids changed everything. They destroyed our bodies, our minds. We couldn't handle it. Best friends butchering one another; babies strangled in cribs...the whole city went to hell.
  • I can hear that Splicer sounding off like it's the Fourth of July!
  • You might hear things about me...see my name about. Think what you will. There was a time when I cared about politics, but it's just an excuse men use to kill one another. I'm done with all that. I just want to see the sunlight again.

Sofia Lamb[edit]

  • For every choice, there is an echo. With each act, we change the world. One man chose a city, free of law and God. But others chose corruption. And so the city fell. If the world were reborn in your image, would it be paradise, or perdition?

Frank Fontaine[edit]

  • I remember when me and the Kraut put you on that sub. You were no more than two. You were my ace in the hole. But you were also the closest thing I've ever had to a son. That's why this hurts, kid. Life isn't strictly business.
  • Hate to see you this way, kid. Hell, I was there when you were born. You ever had a dog you gotta put down? Breaks your heart.
  • That Tenenbaum ain't what you think. Florence Nightingale, huh? That'll all come crashing down 'fore you can say "canned tomatoes". I've seen good bunco, and I've seen great bunco. But, when you waltz through Rapture and World War Two without even a scratch? You got more than leprechauns watching over you.
  • You think you're some kind of hero? I ordered you up from Suchong like a Chinese dinner: a little from Column A, a little from Column B. What do you plan on going back to? Your fake family? Your phony dreams? Putting you out of your misery will be the nicest thing anyone's ever done for you.
  • I had you built! I sent you topside! I took you back, showed you what you was, what you was capable of! Even that life you thought you had, that was something I dreamed of and tattooed inside your head! Now if you don't call that family, I DON'T KNOW WHAT IT IS!

Brigid Tenenbaum[edit]

Sander Cohen[edit]

  • I know why you've come, little moth. You've your own canvas. One you'll paint with the blood of a man I once loved. Yes. I'll send you to Ryan; but first, you must be part of my masterpiece. Go to the Atrium. Hurry now! My muse is a fickle bitch, with a very short attention span!
  • For example, I test you, little moth, but for a reason. I test all my disciples. Some shine like galaxies, and some...some burn like a moth at the flame! Come now, into my home.
  • Rapture's going to hell...and why? Because of them. Always behind the the Lyceum, at the galleries in SoHo, even down here in this so-called Utopia...the doubters.
  • You flutter all around the Fort, taking life as you go. You're not a're an angel. I've never painted an angel...maybe, I should.
  • That's three of four...what's that look? You don't like it, do you? I don't need to be judged by anyone! Screw you! Screw all you fucking doubters! Here's what I say to all of you!!
  • The Wild Bunny, by Sander Cohen. I want to take the ears off, but I can't. I hop, and when I hop, I never get off the ground. It's my curse, my eternal curse. I want to take the ears off, but I can't! It's my curse, it's my fucking curse! I want to take the ears off! Please, take them off! PLEEEEEEEASE!!
  • I could have been the toast of Broadway, the talk of Hollywood: but, instead, I followed you, to this soggy bucket. When you needed my starlight, I illuminated you! But now I rot, waiting for an audience that doesn't...ever...come. I'm writing something for you, Andrew's a requiem.
  • No one allowed backstage before showtime, little moth! Fidgety, fidgety, fidgety...

Dr. J.S. Steinman[edit]

  • With genetic modifications, beauty is no longer a goal, or even a virtue. It is a moral obligation. Do we force the healthy to live with the contagious? Do we mix the criminal with the law-abiding? Then why are the plain allowed to mingle with the fair?
  • I am beautiful, yes. Look at me: what could I possibly do to make my features finer? With ADAM and my scalpel, I have been transformed. But is there not something better? What if now it is not my skill that fails me...but my imagination?
  • When Picasso became bored of painting people, he started representing them as cubes and other abstract forms. The world called him a genius! I've spent my entire surgical career creating the same tired shapes, over and over again: the upturned nose, the cleft chin, the ample bosom. Wouldn't it be wonderful if I could do with a knife...what that old Spaniard did with a brush?
  • Today, I had lunch with the Goddess... "Steinman," she said. "I'm here to free you from the tyranny of the commonplace. I'm here to show you a new kind of beauty." I asked her, "What do you mean, Goddess?" "Symmetry, dear Steinman. It's time we did something about symmetry..."
  • Aphrodite is walking the halls...shimmering, like a scalpel. "Steinman," she calls, "Steinman! I have what you're looking for! Just open your eyes!" And when I see her...she cuts me into a thousand beautiful pieces...
  • Why do we have two eyes? Is there some law that says we must? Two arms, two legs, two ears, two breasts...
  • What can I do with this one, Aphrodite? She WON'T -- STAY -- STILL! I want to make them beautiful, but they always turn out wrong! That one: too fat. This one: too tall! This one: too symmetrical! And now -- What's this, Goddess? ...An intruder! He is ugly -- ugly! Ugly! UGGGGGLLLYYY!!


  • This little fish looks like he just had his cherry popped. I wonder if he's still got some ADAM on him.
  • I will show you what it's like to look different!
  • Even miles underwater...He still sees everything!
  • I'll wrap you in a sheet...
  • Is it someone new?


Kyle Fitzpatrick: Mr. Cohen... please!
Sander Cohen: [Over the intercom] Silence! Allegro, allegro! Da, da, da, da, da, da, presto! Presto! No! No!
Kyle Fitzpatrick: [Sobbing] I'm trying! Please!
Sander Cohen: Once again, young Fitzpatrick.
[Fitzpatrick resumes playing Cohen's dramatic piece]
Sander Cohen: Da, da, da, da, da, da! No!
Kyle Fitzpatrick: Oh, Cohen, you sick fuck! Let me out of here!
[the piano explodes]

Voice actors[edit]

External links[edit]

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