The more difficult option on the "Her barbed tongue" opportunity card:
"You spit foul recriminations and vicious calumny. Ladies faint dead away and gentlemen stagger under the barrage. Your target runs, weeping, with her hands over her ears. You follow her! Your tirade continues in the street, where hansoms careen hastily off and urchins fall from rooftops. You pick up your victim's dropped letters and wave them as a final salute. You are spent."
Also, the second option of the "supply information to a foreign power" storylet. "Your contact can't write fast enough. He breaks a pencil. Another pencil. Russia is sinking! Fallen London will annexe the tomb-colonies! Mr Wines is marrying the skeletal corpse of a nun! The Spider-Council is holding a debutantes' ball! It's almost impossible to stop once you've started. Just keep talking. Everything will be fine."
If you fail at asking a bat for work, you get the message, "Can bats look affronted? Apparently they can. You wouldn't think they had the requisite facial muscles."
Writing an opera that is "a light comedy about the lives of the saints".
"Oh, but what a jolly little opera you have written. You establish your mood quickly. The first song has St Augustine chasing Manichaeans off with a broom. The audience chuckles nervously. The Empress doesn't seem to be offended, so the work continues. Two bishops in the front row walk out during You'll Have To Stand Still If You Want To Be A Martyr. The Bishop of Southwark promises to do something very secular to you."
If a "friend" tries to give you a Starveling Cat and you accept, the game will give you this message:
The Starveling Cat has moved into your Lodgings. May God have mercy on our souls.
When asking the Shivering Relicker to recertify your scraps, you may get "A straight answer, at least: 'You know what that is? It's rubbish.'"
The Alt Text for one snippet about the Starveling Cat: "Yes, it can haz cheeseburger. It can haz anything it wants!"
If you lost your Correspondence Stones, you later get a chance to buy them back with a large amount of Prisoner's Honey. If you do, you get this message:
The librarian swaggers off, presumably to open a string of honey-dens. You are left alone with your stones. There's blood on one and ash on another, but they're definitely yours. It's like meeting old friends. Old friends that occasionally set you on fire.
During the "Bag a Legend" ambition, one will eventually travel to the Convent of the Sisterhood. The Mother Superior finds it necessary for her initiates to test one's mettle:
You dodge the first fusillade of bullets, and kick over a table for cover. Two tiny nuns with daggers leap over it and stab at you. While you're dealing with them, that big bruiser with the axe hacks your makeshift defence into kindling. A novice tosses throwing blades at your face.
Few people are violently disposed towards nuns by nature. However, these particular sisters will tear you into chunks unless you defend yourself. You pull a bayonetted rifle from the wall and lay about yourself with it, sending wimples flying. You bludgeon, stab and shoot your way through the sacred warriors. You run out of nuns before you run out of bullets.
The second option success on the "Dealing with an Assassin" card. You send the assassin a box of chocolates and a card mocking them. This gets them so angry that they march to your door and knock on it furiously. Your response is to calmly open it and smash them over the head with a coal shovel, loot the unconscious body, and toss them over the balcony.
A bit meta, but there is one player who takes every opportunity they get to send the head developer rats-on-a-string every time the relevant card comes up. At the Feast of the Exceptional Rose, this happened. And then this.
It gets even better when they decided to test how many words the message box will allow. At 4 am.
After acquiring a particularly menacing jade idol, you're presented with a list of things to do with it. Leave it, lock it away, feed it the blood of small animals, or feed it the blood of small animals after inviting an audience around first ("because no-one has anything quite this sinister").
An uncharacteristically humorous line from Seeking Mr Eaten's Name:
“I was hungry,” you say as you tear the page from the book, “and you gave me only the pelt of trees. I was thirsty, and you gave me only ink. I was mmff mff ff mm. Mmm hmm fm.” Your mouth is full of paper.