The effect of drinking a Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster is something akin to having one's brain smashed out by a slice of lemon wrapped around a large gold brick.
— Official Guide entry, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy
Likely dropped to avoid seizure by authorities, or because of seizure due to drinking it. Garbolg only brewed from 8:74 to 8:92 Blessed, killed when the vapors in his beard spontaneously combusted.
— Description of "Garbolg's Backcountry Reserve", Dragon Age: Origins
*BELCH* "Not bad."
— Oghren (after drinking from a cup containing, among other things, lyrium and darkspawn and archdemon blood), Dragon Age: Origins – Awakening
Maître Folace: Problem is, the ordinary fare got hijacked by the kids. What do we do? Do we go for the weird stuff?... This won't make anyone younger. (he pulls out a bottle)
Raoul Volfoni: Good, we're saved.
Maître Folace: Saved... we'll see!
Jean: Hey, did you pull out the vitriol?
Paul Volfoni: Why are you saying that?
Maître Folace: Well.
Paul Volfoni: Looks honest enough, though.
Monsieur Fernand: Without being frankly dishonest, at first glance, like that, it... looks a bit weird.
Maître Folace: It's from the Mexican's time, during the golden age... We had to stop making it, though, some clients were getting blind. Ah, this was causing no end of troubles!
(they prudently drink)
Raoul Volfoni: Gotta say... it's brutal!
Paul Volfoni: (tears in his eyes) You were right, it's the weird stuff, huh?
Monsieur Fernand: I've known a Polish woman who drank this for breakfast. (drinks, winces) Still, you gotta admit: it's rather a men's drink... (he coughs)
Raoul Volfoni: Do you know what it reminds me of? That funny kind of thing we used to drink in a low dive of Bien Hoa, not very far from Saigon. "The Red Shutters"... and the boss woman, a blonde bombshell... What was her name already, dammit?
Monsieur Fernand: Lulu la Nantaise.
Raoul Volfoni: You knew her?
(Monsieur Fernand rolls his eyes)
Paul Volfoni: I believe it tastes like apples.
Maître Folace: There's some.
(later, they're drunk)
Maître Folace: And... And... And... 50 kg of potatoes, a bag of sawdust, he could get you 25 liters of first-rate stuff from the alembic; a real wizard, Jo. And that's why I'm taking the liberty to intimate to folks inclined to sully memories that they'd better shut their stinky trap!
Paul Volfoni: You can say whatever you want, there's not just apples... there's something else... It wouldn't be, by any chance... beetroot? Huh?
Monsieur Fernand: Yes, there's some too.
Ratch: Ryncol's a local favorite. Don't try to act tough; it'll tear your insides apart.
Grunt: He's not joking. Ryncol hits aliens like ground glass.
Bartender: Okay — for you, something special. This is krogan liquor — ryncol. You'll set off radiological alarms after you drink it. Should I pour you a quad?
Shepard: Hell yeah! Put more stuff in the... the thing more stuff goes in.
Bartender: Your funeral, pal/sister.
Call: (chokes) Shit Johnner, what'd you put in this, battery acid?
Johnner: Just a little. For colour.
Richie: What's in this?!
Eddie: ...meths, Pernod, paintstripper, Mr. Sheen, brake fluid and Drambuie!
Richie: Drambuie?! Oooh hoo-hoo ooooh!
Eddie: Yeah, yeah, yeah, all right. You've gotta put something in for the birds, haven't you?
Richie: (taking a whiff) Jesus! How are you alive?
Eddie: I may very well not be!
— Bottom, "Hole"
"I pick up the martini glass and sip it slowly. The cocktail, made by some insane bartender on the homeworld, is damned good but like its name says it hits like a hammer."
— Captain Kanril Eleya (regarding the "Hathon hammer"), Bait and Switch
(845): Making and watching you take a mixed shot with vodka, chocolate syrup, tobasco sauce, cranberry juice, and sundried tomato juice wasnt the highlite of my night. Hearing you puking from downstairs was.
LCDR. Worf: (holding his head and groaning) Romulan ale should be illegal.
LCDR. Geordi La Forge: (matter-of-factly) It is.