Team Fortress 2

"Heavy: Some people think they can outsmart me. Maybe, [sniff] maybe. I've yet to meet one that can outsmart bullet."

"Heavy: Oh my God. Who touched Sasha? [turns] Alright, WHO TOUCHED MY GUN?!"

"Scout: Um, I don't even know where to start with you. I mean, do you even know who ya talkin' to?"

"Scout: Basically, kind of a big deal."

"Scout: You listenin'? Okay, grass grows, birds fly, sun shines, and brother, I hurt people."

"Scout: If you were from where I was from, you'd be f[bleep]kin' dead!"

"Heavy: [Referring to the Pyro] I fear no man. But that... thing... it scares me."

"Spy: One shudders to imagine what inhuman thoughts lie behind that mask... What dreams of chronic and sustained cruelty?"

"Scout: My blood! H-he punched out all my blood!"

"Soldier: You call that breaking my spine? You RED team ladies wouldn't know how to break a spine if- AUGHHH! MY SPINE!"

"Engineer: Hey look, buddy. I'm an engineer — that means I solve problems. Not problems like 'What is beauty?' because that would fall within the purview of your conundrums of philosophy. I solve practical problems. Fer’instance, how am I going to stop some big mean mother hubbard from tearing me a structurally superfluous new behind? The answer: use a gun. And if that don't work... use more gun. Like this heavy caliber, tripod-mounted, little ol' number designed by me... Built by me... and you'd best hope... not pointed at you."

"Demoman: What makes me a good Demoman? If I were a bad Demoman, I wouldn't be sittin' here, discussin' it with you now would I? One crossed wire, one wayward pinch of potassium chlorate, one errant twitch...and kablooie!"

"Demoman: I'm a black, Scottish cyclops. They've got more f-[incredibly long bleep]-s than they've got the likes of me."

"Demoman: So… t’all you fine dandies so proud, so cocksure… prancin' aboot with your heads full of eyeballs… come and get me I say! I'll be waiting on ya with a whiff of the 'ol brimstone. I'm a grim bloody fable... with an unhappy bloody end!"

"Demoman: Oh, they're going to have to glue you back together... in hell!"

"Soldier: “If fighting is sure to result in victory, then you must fight!” Sun Tzu said that, and I'd say he knows a little more about fighting than you do, pal, because he invented it, and then he perfected it so that no living man could best him in the ring of honor. Then, he used his fight money to buy two of every animal on earth, and then he herded them onto a boat, and then he beat the crap out of every single one! And from that day forward any time a bunch of animals are together in one place it's called a ”zoo”! [...] Unless it's a ”farm”!"

"Sniper: Snipin's a good job, mate! It's challengin' work, outta doors. I guarantee you'll not go hungry, cause at the end of the day, long as there's two people left on the planet, someone is gonna want someone dead."

"Sniper: Dad? Dad, I'm a- Ye- Not a "crazed gunman", dad, I'm an assassin! ...Well, the difference bein' one is a job and the other's a mental sickness!"

"Sniper: Feelings? Look, mate, you know who has a lot of feelings? Blokes what bludgeon their wife to death with a golf trophy. Professionals have standards. Be polite. Be efficient. Have a plan to kill everyone you meet."

"Spy: This is a bucket."

"Soldier: Dear God."

"Spy: There's more."

"Soldier: No!"

"Spy: We have seventy hours to live. For most men, no time at all. We are not most men. We are mercenaries. We have the resources. The will. To make these hours count! The clock is ticking, gentlemen. Let's begin."

"Spy: Our first dying wish is Scout's. He's... drawn a picture of me getting hit by a car. I have something radiating off of me."

"Scout: Yeah, those are stink lines. That's why the car hit him. Cause he smells."

"Spy: [rolls eyes, takes another card] Yes I see. Here you've drawn me having... sexual congress with the Eiffel Tower. [he takes another card] The Eiffel Tower having sexual congress with me. [takes yet another card] Both of us relaxing post-coitus."

"Demoman: [mouthing, confused] "post-coitus”…?"

"Spy: I'm crying and the Eiffel Tower has stink lines coming off of it. Did anyone besides Scout put a card into the bucket?!"

"Scout: [giggling] Oh man, Classic Scout."

"Spy: [sighs] Fantastic. This was a huge waste of my time."

"Soldier: [pulls out a card] You did not read mine!"

"Spy: [sighs again] Does it say you want the bucket?"

"Soldier: [interrupting] Yes!"

"Scout: We both got buckets of chicken. Wanna do it?"

"Fried Chicken Tramp: [shrugs] Eh, okay."

"Spy: SEDUCE ME!"

"Soldier: I have done nothing but teleport bread for three days."

"Dude, you'd get a closed casket at the ugly cemetery."

"[Referring to the Heavy] I am owning you, you fat, bald, fatty fat... fat fat!"

"You'll never hit me! You'll never hit my tiny head! It's so tiny I got a frickin'... such a tiny li'l head!"

"Pop quiz: How long's it take to beat a moron to death? Errnt! Sorry, time's up, you're dead."

"Come on, Bat. Let's go introduce you to some skulls."

"Hey! Other team! See dis butt! Eat it! Eat my butt! Ha ha ha! Yeah!"

"I have this disorder that makes it physically impossible for me to lose! It also makes me irresistible to ladies. Like all ladies. Everywhere."

"I hate ghosts so. Much. Just be solid already, stupid ghosts…"

"Ey is somebody keeping track of my heads batted in?"

"I don't know how to lose. I tried it once. It didn't work."

"I… eat… your… sandwiches! I EAT EM UP!"

"Heavy: I am Heavy Weapons Guy... and this is my weapon. She weighs one hundred fifty kilograms and fires two hundred dollar, custom-tooled cartridges at ten thousand rounds per minute. It costs four hundred thousand dollars to fire this weapon...for twelve seconds."