Quotes / Genius Loci

"Torvendis can never be fully mapped. The deserts change to forest, the glaciers to rivers of lava, the mountains to ocean troughs and the cities to plains of dust. Trying to chart it seems to make the landscape change even faster, as if Torvendis takes exception to any attempt to unravel its secrets with compass and map. No one on Torvendis ever wakes up to the same world twice, and in a world where even the colour of the sky mutates from hour to hour nothing ever stays the same.

But even the land never changes as much as the patterns of power that have played across Torvendis for aeons, like wildfires flaring and burning out."

The Doctor: I see. This asteroid is sentient.
Auntie: We walk on his back, breathe his air. Eat his food...
House: [through Auntie and Uncle] And do my will. You are most welcome, travellers.
Amy: Doctor... that voice, that's the asteroid talking?
The Doctor: Yes. So you're like a... sea urchin; hard outer surface - that's the planet we're walking on - big, squashy, oogly thing inside - that's you?
House: That is correct, Time Lord.

"The Zone wants to be respected. Otherwise it will punish."

"Observe the Razorbeak as it tends so carefully to the fungal blooms; just the right bit from the yellow, then a swatch from the pink. Follow the Glow Mites as they gather and organize the fallen spores. What higher order guides their work? Mark my words: someone or something is managing the ecology of this planet."
Sid Meierís Alpha Centauri, Lady Deirdre Skye, "Planet Dreams" (Accompanies discovery of the "Centauri Empathy" tech)

"You waited so long to heed us, earthdeidre,
Almost we pruned you, as we may yet prune your branches."
Sid Meierís Alpha Centauri, Planet, "Conversations With Planet" (Accompanies discovery of the "Secrets of Alpha Centauri" tech)

"The desert prowled up to the front porch, eyeing Lucas Marsh with interest."
Cactus Flowers and Bone Flutes, by Mercedes Yardley

Mike Enslin: [Into his tape recorder] General Manager claims that the phantom in room interferes...
Gerald Olin: I have never used the word "phantom."
Mike Enslin: Oh, I'm sorry. Uh, spirit? Specter?
Gerald Olin: No, you misunderstand. Whatever's in 1408 is nothing like that.
Mike Enslin: Then what is it?
Gerald Olin: It's an evil fucking room.

Big Barda: But the Dark Age had not just changed the world, they say. It had not only driven the seas to vapor and burned the cities of Man. No. It had also changed him. Stripped him of his famous face. Destroyed his home. And so, they say, he came to the crossroads here... and became a new one. Welcome to the Canyons of Clay.
Supergirl: Whoa! Youre' telling me this place is alive?
Silver Banshee: No. This place is death.

HELLO, TEST SUBJECT. Echo, echo. WELCOME TO YOUR FIRST TEST. I'M YOUR OVERSEER, CAVE JOHNSON, AND I THINK IF YOU KEEP TESTING, YOU MIGHT FIND SOMETHING VERY INTERESTING ABOUT THIS PLANET... [Chuckling] It's me. I'm the planet, you live on me! Wanted to save it for later, but it's just too darn good. You really wouldn't have seen it coming. Do me a favor - don't tell any of the other test subjects.
Also, don't pollute.
Planet!Cave Johnson, Portal 2: Perpetual Testing Initiative

"What is this place?"
The face stirred again. "Myself," it sang. "Metamorphosis. Ascension. I am that I am." The face broke up again into dozens of whirring birds.
A clump of vines twitched, rolled in on itself and coalesced into a leaf-green wolf. It said "I am the land, awakened by blood," and loped away.
"No longer a larva," an orchid-mouth said. "The pupal stage ends, for myself and the others."
The flesh beneath Ruthven writhed into a gigantic face. It whispered "Did I not promise to rejoin you at Gehenna?" then vanished into the meat again.
—Lambach Ruthven meets the Tzimisce Antediluvian, Vampire: The Masquerade - Nights Of Prophecy

The fabric of Bishopsgate is literally alive, a vast complex web of flesh. Tendons run through cavities in walls. Nerve endings and blood vessels thread through narrow fissures in the mortar and brickwork. Eyes and ears sit behind glass panels, and in the lowest sub-basement, at the head of the so-called Labyrinth, a vast maw waits to be fed. Was this always the way? Was this the intention of the asylum's original designers? Or has the thing that lived below grown into the walls over the years? Worse: what if Matthew Gorlay had an occult plan? What if it were he who threaded the flesh into the fabric of the building, making the madness of the dead into a living personification of madness that projected its own insanity into the patients and doctors who lived here?