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Jak 3

2004 (VG)

Daxter: You want a perch? (gives an insulting hand gesture to Pecker) Daxter: Twirl on it! Pecker: Ok, now you've *really* pissed me off!

Pecker: Greetings, brave fighters! The one, the only, the greatest highness of all highnesses, the magnificent, eminently... Damas: Enough. Just get on with it. Pecker: Sorry, I got a bit carried away. Did I mention how fabulous your hair looks? Damas: Pecker!

Oracle: You will need all the power you can muster to survive this terrible test, great one. Daxter: I can handle it. Oracle: I was talking to the tall one... shorty!

Cyber-Erol: I've found some new friends to help me conquer this puny little planet. Jak: You're talking to the Dark Makers? Cyber-Erol: It seems my digital self can communicate with these poor tortured minds quite well. Oh, they're just like you and me, Jak. Well... me at least. They want a home, someone to call a friend, destruction of all Light Eco! They've volunteered to help me put this puny planet out of its misery. Ha ha ha ha ha haa... Jak: You're in for a big surprise. The Dark Makers don't play nicely with others. Just ask the Metal Heads. Cyber-Erol: I've been given the chance to wield a power even the Precursors could not control. Don't fret. You won't live to see what I turn this little world into. Maybe a rock, or a floating puddle of slag, or nothing at all. Complete oblivion! So hard to choose.

Samos The Sage: Nice moves, my boy. You're the best man we've got to lead an expedition into the catacombs. Count Veger: Please, please... let us not be too hasty. Are you sure you want this dark eco freak contaminating the hallowed halls of our glorious Precursors? I should lead the expedition myself. Ashelin: We're tired of your scheming Veger. Count Veger: I've got the answer you're looking for. My Precursor Monks have given me the knowledge to turn on the planetary defence grid. If you beg me to do so... Keira: Jak's always gotten us through thick and thin, I'm with him. Samos The Sage: Here here! Daxter: You're washed up, Vegan. Count Veger: Veger! It's Veger! You idiot! Daxter: Whatever! Ashelin: Count Veger, I hereby dissolve the City Council and strip you of your title, command, and all privileges. Now get out of my sight. Count Veger: What? How dare you! I offered you mercy, but now you will all burn in the Precursor fires of creation! I swear it!

Kleiver: Care to wager a little somethin' on a race, then? If you win, I'll let you keep that little vehicle for as long as you live. And if I win? Jak: I don't have anything. Kleiver: I'd say that yappy rodent of yours is a bit bony, but skinned and buttered he'd make a nice treat. My vehicle against him. Daxter: Forget it buddy! Jak would never... Jak: Done.

Tess: Daxter! My hero! Ahh! This city is too dangerous. We need our own little place in the country... a little pink house... with a white picket fence... and a fireplace... and a big four poster bed for me... and a little Ottsel run on the side of the house for you.

Baron Praxis: Games? Games are for wimps! Get out in the real world! It's called the sun!

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