". . . If it were only the other way! If it were I who was to be always young, and the picture that was to grow old! For that—for that—I would give everything! Yes, there is nothing in the whole world I would not give! I would give my soul for that!"
"The more of my power you use, the more control I gain over your body. You use your power to get what you want, and I come a little closer to my own goals. You scratch my back, I crush yours. Pretty sweet, huh?"
"Friends, I know I'm in hock to y'all pretty deep already, but it seems our little froggy prince lost his way, and I need your generous assistance gettin' him back. (Evil Laugh) I hear ya- now what's in it for y'all? Well, as soon as I dispose of Big Daddy Lebouff, and I'm runnin' this town, I'll have the entire city of New Orleans in the palm of my hand... and you'll have all the wayward souls your dark little hearts desire. Ya'll love that, doncha? So, we got ourselves a deal?
"If you think you've gotten a good deal from a Deveel, first count your fingers, then your limbs, then your relatives."
If you want to cross the bridge, my sweet
You've got the pay the toll
Take a gulp and take a breath
And go ahead and sign the scroll!
Flotsam! Jetsam! Now I've got her, boys!
The boss is on a roll!
Inkyrius: You sold your soul to fiends?
Varsuvius: Technically, it is more of a fixed-term lease with an occupancy date yet to be determined.
Bart: I'd sell my soul for a racing car.
Devil Ned Flanders: [Appearing in a puff of smoke with a racing car] That can be arranged...
Bart: Meh; I changed my mind. [Pissed, the Devil disappears]
Marge: Bart, stop pestering Satan.
One must be wary in dealing with the Spirit Forges: the Wraiths and Shades that inhabit them offer items beyond mortal dreams, in exchange for a sampling of your blood. The Wraith Smiths forge their items with forfeit souls...
—Kain, Blood Omen: Legacy of Kain
It is the magician's bargain: give up our soul, get power in return. But once our souls, that is, ourselves, have been given up, the power thus conferred will not belong to us. We shall in fact be the slaves and puppets of that to which we have given our souls.
—C. S. Lewis in The Abolition of Man
Lando: That was never a condition of our agreement, nor was giving Han to this bounty hunter!
Vader: Perhaps you think you are being treated unfairly?
Lando: (reconsiders) ...No.
Vader: Good. It would be unfortunate if I had to leave a garrison here. (leaves)
Lando: This "deal" is getting worse all the time!
Justin Crowe: I am reminded of the old saying "To make a deal with the devil".
Tommy Dolan: (uncomfortable laugh) Oh, but I'm not that bad, am I?
Justin Crowe: No, you're right. You aren't.
Fry: That could be my beautiful soul sitting naked on her couch. If I could just learn to play this stupid thing.
Bender: Oh, but you can. But you may have to metaphorically make a deal with the devil. And by "devil", I mean Robot Devil. And by "metaphorically", I mean get your coat.
Seth "Colonel Presley could have made a deal with me. I have always taken an interest in music. His life would have been different."
— Elder Seth and Krokodil Comeback Tour
What do you want?
"What do I want? I want to live just long enough to be there when they cut your head off and stick it on a pike, as a warning to the next ten generations that some favors come with too high a price. I want to look up into your lifeless eyes and wave like this."
Satan frequently runs into credit payment risks.
To swear contract with demons is to embrace a false change. It is an easy power, a basic power, with only one outcome: destruction without echo.
"Every devil wants to be your friend, and like a friend, he'll help you out of a jam, see. Need a few coins to get by? The devil's got a few to spare. Need a warm body to fill your bed? The devil knows the best ladies. Want status? Riches? Property? Power? The devil has the answers. He'll give you all you want and more. And what does he want in exchange? Just a little thing-a trifle, really. And it won't affect you in the slightest. All he wants is your soul."
—Conner Smithson, Seeker of Virtue The Book of Vile Darkness
There is... one thing... I mean, everything has a price... I really hate to repeat myself, but... NOTHING'S "FREE."
— Alice Cooper, "Gimme"
"Go, go, gadget Faustian bargain!"
— Harry Dresden, The Dresden Files
"And by any chance does all this knowledge and power and good advice come for only three easy installments of nineteen ninety-five plus shipping and handling? Or maybe it comes with a bonus set of knives tough enough to saw through a nail, yet can still cut tomatoes like 'this'."
— Harry Dresden, The Dresden Files
"I...I went to the police, like a good American. These two boys were brought to trial. The judge sentenced them to three years in prison, and suspended the sentence. Suspended the sentence! They went free, that very day! I stood in the courtroom like a fool, and those two bastards, they smiled at me! And I said to my wife, 'for justice, we must go to Don Corleone.'"
— Amerigo Bonasera, The Godfather
Dan Marino: I can't stand retirement. Come on, just let me win one Superbowl.
Satan: In exchange for eternal damnation of your soul? You're much too nice a guy for me to want to do that to you, Mr Marino.
Marino: You did it for Namath!
Satan: Yeah, but Joe was coming here anyways.
Marino: This sucks. (storming off) I'll just go to the Superbowl as an announcer! And I'll win myself an Emmy!
Satan: That's the spirit!
Nicky: You're a good Devil, Dad.
Satan: And I also happen to be a Jets fan.
Look around. Witness the legacy of those who were brave and dared to dream. You can rise higher and reach further than they ever did... if you only accept our help and our gift to you.
Some choose material wealth, mere shadows of true wealth, true power. You will have no need for paper and metal when you carry within you something much greater.
Some choose to be made into figureheads, pale shadows of those who walk the true and enlightened path, alongside us. Become the one who pulls the strings, not the puppet on the throne.
Some choose to be granted the gift of sight, to envision and recreate beauty... but beauty is hollow compared to true power.
Some choose to be granted the gift of language, to use words to seduce and change the world... but true power cannot be contained by words, and true power can shape the world to your will.
Come, and we'll speak of your future. We are fascinated by you. We want to hear everything about you.
The time has come to accept our gift to you. We can give you everything... the world. You only have to choose to accept it.
The Dreamers, The Secret World
Creation is a terrible, uncaring place. The gods are corrupt. Heaven is a sham and a scam, full of grifters and liars and con-men. The divine embodiment of virtue and righteousness hasn't left his pleasure dome in years. The average mortal is born into grinding poverty, breaks his back laboring for his entire life, and dies an ugly, undignified death. Then everything he is as a person is erased, his soul passes through an impersonal sorting system, and he begins a new life of pain and toil. His children will face more of the same. Those who stand up and stride forth and try to do something about this tend to get crushed under the tread of the truly mighty—corrupt provincial gods (which is most gods), their gifted sons and daughters, or the haughty Terrestrial Exalted. If you're really unlucky, maybe you'll come down on the bad side of a Lunar who wants to re-order your society into something he likes and you don't. Or an Abyssal will want to kill you for existing. Or you'll get drafted into a militia to face down a Solar. Or you'll get drafted into a militia by a Solar, robbed of your desire to stay on your plot of land and protect your meager belongings and loved ones by his honeyed, Essence-driven words. And then you'll die for a cause you have no investment in, or to further some magic asshole's agenda.
What about that is worth preserving? You just got a fat kick in the nuts from the world, again. The latest in a series of them. You are despondent. And then a terrible thing comes slouching out of the tree line, and it says that the architects of the cosmos understand your pain. They, too, have been unjustly overthrown, and imprisoned, and mutilated into the horrible thing you see before you. But they need a hero to save them. To bring down the cruel hegemony of the uncaring gods. To castigate a world steeped in corruption. So help us, they say. We cannot act, but we can give you power that will make the bickering gods of field and storm that ruin your crops every other year quail in terror. We cannot free ourselves, but we can give you a guide to help you set us free. We cannot reach beyond the bounds of our prison, but we will give you the strength to brush the stars out of the sky and set armies fleeing in terror before you. We cannot save those you love, but we can give you the cosmic might to do it yourself. All you have to do is serve us, and help us, and you will be Exalted above all other men when we are free, and the world will be yours.
They're lying with every second breath, but they're also telling you everything you want to hear. So you say okay. You say, yes, I'll change the world. And then the demon explodes into a hideous web of Essence and viscera, and closes about you, and your heart leaps in terror and revulsion and horror, but it's too late.
She says "I can help you, but what do you say?"
But it’s not free baby, you'll have to pay
— Savage Garden, 'Break Me Shake Me'
Tibalt: Gentlemen, today is your lucky day. I am here to make you the offer of your lifetime. Wanna hear? Oh, why am I even asking, of course you do. I offer you whatever your hearts' desire, be it women, money, power or fame. Or maybe just a really good steak. All I am asking for in return is your signature on this...
(Tibalt snaps his fingers, causing a massive roll of parchment to appear in his hand.)
Tibalt: ...piece of paper, promising me your immortal souls upon your eventual demise. A small price to pay for the things I am offering, am I right?
The demon was suddenly all around her, in her throat, in her eyes, in her lungs, scraping against her skin, raking her across her back, lifting her up, sliding between her toes and fingers, impossible tongues of shadow all around her, licking at her quivering flesh, whispering sweetly into her ears, so sweetly, promising justice, promising punishments and power, if only, if only she'll serve, if only she'll serve the lords of Hell, be their arbiter, their magistrate, carry their laws into Creation and make the dragon-bloods and their Scarlet Empire fear her judgement. The promises permeate her mind, the images of dragon-bloods in gallows, Empires shattering, the dragons thrown aside, the gates of Heaven thrown wide by demons and shadows and there, in the middle of it all, there she is, and she is tall, and powerful and blind and beautiful, and it is so perfect, even as the noose descends on the mightiest gods, and they're all squirming, all dying, even her previous victims, they were all dying, again and again, and it was all too much, it rushed over her and she was overcome, and she couldn't help but urgently plead: "Yes, yes, yes, yes..."