L.A. Noire is a PS3, Xbox 360, and PC game developed by Team Bondi, set in 1947 Los Angeles. The game revolves around the journey of an L.A.P.D. detective named Cole Phelps, as he rises the ranks of his job and descends into the underworld of the City of Angels. But as the story progresses, it is revealed that Phelps might be trying to atone for his actions during World War II, actions that may come back to haunt him.
- Friends who want to stay friends don't discuss religion or politics. In my case you can add the war to that.
- Everyone has their vices. Even you, Phelps.
- Roy Earle: I knew this creep was in on the morphine heist. A victim of his own product.
- [Phelps draws his M1911 pistol and aims it at Earle]
- Beat Cop: Hey, Detective! Can we back it off a notch? This is getting out of hand!
- Herschel Biggs: There is a time to talk and a time to shut up. This is the time to be quiet, son.
- Cole Phelps: Courtney Sheldon was a corpsman, Roy. He served his country. He went out with a medical kit and an Army .45 into places that made the Valley of Death look like a picnic. He was either naive enough or dumb enough to get involved with the Suburban Redevelopment Fund along with the mayor, the DA, Monroe, and a certain crooked cop. He was involved in the morphine heist. But he has a puncture wound in his jugular, which makes this a murder case. He was a better man than you'll ever know. You say one more word about him and I will blow your fucking head off!
- Earle: You've finally lost it, partner.
- Phelps: I have a pretty good idea why Sheldon is dead, and I know about Monroe. Your vast, corrupt future is draining away as we speak.
- Earle: [Laughs] I got better things to do than argue the rub with you.
- [Earle leaves and Phelps turns to the Beat Cop.]
- Phelps: Stay with him until the coroner gets here. Make sure Technical Services bags the evidence. If you let this creep anywhere near it, I'll come looking for you.
- Beat Cop: Yes, sir.
- Biggs: You know, Phelps, you're not the worst asshole going around.
- Phelps: Thanks, Herschel.
- Leland Monroe: That goddamned pet lunatic of yours is burning down our houses!
- Dr. Harlan Fontaine: Keep your voice down, Leland. Control is of the essence.
- Leland Monroe: Keep my voice down?! Do you know how much these sons of bitches charge for lunch? Fuck 'em!
- Fontaine: Leland, we will not solve our problems by announcing them to the general public. We only speed ourselves on the way to the gallows.
- Monroe: He's your imbecile, Harlan. Get him under control or get rid of him.
- Fontaine: Speaking of which, I've had to dispose of our young medical student.
- Monroe: You what?... You certainly are a cold character, Harlan.
- Fontaine: He has a friend called Kelso who knows all about the development on Normandie Avenue.
- Monroe: I know about Kelso.
- Fontaine: And you thought it unimportant to inform me?
- Monroe: I thought I could take care of it.
- Fontaine: And have you?
- Monroe: No, I haven't.
- Fontaine: Kelso works for Benson. Is he reliable?
- Monroe: No, he's totally unreliable, but he has so many pernicious habits he's got nowhere to run.
- Fontaine: Can you take care of Kelso?
- Monroe: Don't push me, Harlan. Get rid of the fruitcake. He's no longer necessary. I'll take care of Jack Kelso.