"Have you ever been hungry? Like really fucking hungry? Like holy shit I could eat an entire full-sized horse stuffed with a family of refugees and then sautéed in chicken broth over the burning ruins of an animal shelter drizzled with hollandaise sauce and sprinkled with a pinch of paprika? So has Galactus. Only when Galactus gets hungry, he makes your stupid idiotic bullshit hunger look like an anorexic supermodel starvation diet being snack attacked by the offensive line of the 1982 Washington Redskins after they've been turned into undying vampires whose ultra-unquenchable thirst can only be slaked by feasting on the blood of humans."
"Take joy in the last few hours you have left... for he is nearly here."
By Victor von Doom
"Actually, I am the gentlest, the most unambitious of monarchs! My only desire is to make my people happy — and to further the cause of peace, and of brotherly love! I have been informed that my devoted subjects actually dance in the streets, at the merest mention of my name!"
— Fantastic Four #57, written by Stan Lee
Dr. Doom: Rivals?... [seizes Kristoff] No one rivals Doom! NO ONE! Doom is supreme! There is no power on earth, no intellect in all creation to equal Mine!
— Fantastic Four #258, written by John Byrne
"Long live Doom!"
— Doom 2099, Issue #1, written by John Francis Moore
Klaw: You narrate your life as you go along, don't you? Are you being taped?
Dr. Doom: Why, yes! Every utterance of Doom must be recorded for posterity!
Dr. Doom: Why, yes! Every utterance of Doom must be recorded for posterity!
— Secret Wars (1984), Issue #9, written by Jim Shooter
"Once, happiness seemed so much closer... so easily within my grasp! For a darkly handsome gypsy youth... a genius... a dabbler in sorcery, it seemed all roads led to success... to fulfillment... even love! Then came the accident which ruined my face and my life in one single, searing instant! The paths are less clear now, for a man whose chief pleasure — is shattering mirrors! Perhaps, when the world is mine, I shall have all mirrors destroyed!"
— Soliloquy in Superman and Spider-Man, written by Jim Shooter
Dr. Doom: Philosophically we are much alike! You and I are the mightiest beings on this planet! I choose to exert my power to impose my will upon the world — you choose not to! And yet, even that choice does, indeed, affect the lives of every man, woman and child on Earth — condemning them, in fact, to poverty, disease, famine... and to the hideous suffering they inflict upon one another! You cannot escape it, Superman! You dictate the fate of mankind... one way or the other!
Superman: I know! But... what can I do? Seize power and try to remake the world into a utopia? That would put me in a class with men like Hitler... and you!
Doctor Doom: You misjudge me, Superman! I am no raging Fuehrer, wringing hatred from misfit followers! My Kingdom is a place of peace and contentment!
Superman: I know! But... what can I do? Seize power and try to remake the world into a utopia? That would put me in a class with men like Hitler... and you!
Doctor Doom: You misjudge me, Superman! I am no raging Fuehrer, wringing hatred from misfit followers! My Kingdom is a place of peace and contentment!
— Superman and Spider-Man, written by Jim Shooter
Dr. Doom: Consider this. If 'magical thinking' is the assumption of a higher narrative in the flow of events... then true magic...
Loki: What are you talking about, you mad old—
Doom: It's. My. Move. As I was saying. True magic is the imposition of a narrative upon reality. It is telling a story to the world... and making the world believe it. The dark work of police and politicians. Of rulers. And tricksters. And if magic is narrative... then to be a creature of magic... to be a god... is to be a creature of story. Yes? Your move.
Loki: Um... Sorry, I wasn't listening. Why do your robots all look like you again?
Doom: Not the move I would have made. Still — it's a fair question. Why do they look like me? Doesn't it create the possibility that I am one? That Doom may, at any moment, be a machine? That I am not myself? Of course it does. That is how I wish it. I once let Arcade strike a match on me, just to maintain that confusion. Think, boy. If I am ever defeated or dishonored — If I ever act in ways unworthy of myself... If I ever die... The word goes out: "It must have been a Doombot." And the reverse is true. My robots often confuse my foes — I may be a robot now, speaking these words. How would you know? How would I? What is Doom? The flesh and blood I can swap out at my convenience? The mind that can be copied into a thousand machines? No. Doom cannot fit in such small containers. I am not my body. Not my mind. I am... I am the old trunk, filled with ancient mysteries. I am the explosion in the college laboratory. I am the mask that burns with the fires of vengeance. I am the legend that unites this nation. I am the story of Doom. And if Doom is a creature of story...
Loki: Stop. Just... stop. This is madness, Doom. You're not a story. You're not a god. One day, you'll die—
Doom: Oh? The story of Doom can end, you say?
Loki: Yes!
Doom: Then I'm a better story than you.
Loki: What are you talking about, you mad old—
Doom: It's. My. Move. As I was saying. True magic is the imposition of a narrative upon reality. It is telling a story to the world... and making the world believe it. The dark work of police and politicians. Of rulers. And tricksters. And if magic is narrative... then to be a creature of magic... to be a god... is to be a creature of story. Yes? Your move.
Loki: Um... Sorry, I wasn't listening. Why do your robots all look like you again?
Doom: Not the move I would have made. Still — it's a fair question. Why do they look like me? Doesn't it create the possibility that I am one? That Doom may, at any moment, be a machine? That I am not myself? Of course it does. That is how I wish it. I once let Arcade strike a match on me, just to maintain that confusion. Think, boy. If I am ever defeated or dishonored — If I ever act in ways unworthy of myself... If I ever die... The word goes out: "It must have been a Doombot." And the reverse is true. My robots often confuse my foes — I may be a robot now, speaking these words. How would you know? How would I? What is Doom? The flesh and blood I can swap out at my convenience? The mind that can be copied into a thousand machines? No. Doom cannot fit in such small containers. I am not my body. Not my mind. I am... I am the old trunk, filled with ancient mysteries. I am the explosion in the college laboratory. I am the mask that burns with the fires of vengeance. I am the legend that unites this nation. I am the story of Doom. And if Doom is a creature of story...
Loki: Stop. Just... stop. This is madness, Doom. You're not a story. You're not a god. One day, you'll die—
Doom: Oh? The story of Doom can end, you say?
Loki: Yes!
Doom: Then I'm a better story than you.
— Loki: Agent of Asgard, Issue #6, written by Al Ewing
"Ms. Van Dyne, I am not some common criminal that can be distracted by your prattling. You are nothing to Doom. And your pathetic attempts to play mind games with me amount to exactly less than nothing. So please, stop embarrassing yourself."
— Dr. Doom to Wasp, The Avengers: Earth's Mightiest Heroes
"Imagine. I now possess the power to end hunger. To abolish disease. To eliminate crime. To establish a perfectly content, perfectly ordered world — all under the benevolence of MY IRON WILL!"
Invisible Woman: This is pretty uninspired. The big, bad Doctor Doom kidnapping me just to lure us here to your wretched little island?
Dr. Doom: Yes, I'm so sorry to involve you in the timeworn damsel-in-distress cliché, Mrs. Richards. I fear the only thing missing is the onrushing train. However, sometimes expediency outweighs originality. Now, with your permission...
Dr. Doom: Yes, I'm so sorry to involve you in the timeworn damsel-in-distress cliché, Mrs. Richards. I fear the only thing missing is the onrushing train. However, sometimes expediency outweighs originality. Now, with your permission...
"King of Space. Master of the Sun. You claim such vast dominions. Is it to balance your small souls? Could I not lay claim to the light and the void, if I wish it? Have I not earned such titles? I, who have mastered all arts, all sciences, all secrets? Whose technology and magic cross the stars as easily they scramble an alpha telepath's mind? Who would dare to say I have not earned the right? Yet I am king of a single nation on a simple planet. A beloved garden tended by iron hands. And the only title I have ever claimed... is DOCTOR."
By other characters
"Oh shut up and listen to someone else for once! Stop talking in that ridiculous way! What's your problem, Victor? What have we ever actually done to you to deserve this stupid waste of everyone's time? Are you listening to me? Sitting there with your stupid machines and your childish jealousy, when you should be curing cancer or taking your people to the stars! What's the point of talking to you? Would you like me to explain this in a language you understand? Try anything like this ever again and I'll put a thousand force field bubbles inside that mighty brain of yours and burst it from the inside. Toys. Honestly, you should be ashamed of yourself."
— Invisible Woman, Fantastic Four: 1234 #4 (2002), written by Grant Morrison
"For all your boasting and raving, you're just a delusional sociopath with a mother complex, Victor. You realize how pathetic that is, right? All that knowledge, tech and magic together, and yet you're still a demented, psychotic egotist hellbent on making Reed's life miserable out of some imagined grudge. God help me, I've been quiet and allowed you into our lives from time to time out of necessity or respect for your relationship with Val. But don't for a damn minute think I've forgiven you."
— Invisible Woman, Fantastic Four Annual #1 (2014), written by James Robinson
Scott: I guess if you want your armor, you can keep your armor. At least until I peel it off of you piece by piece by piece. Not that there was anyone inside that empty suit of armor. Oh, there may have been seventy or eighty kilograms of breathing, bleeding flesh housed inside — but certainly nothing I'd call human. You'd have to have a conscience, a soul to be a human being. And now I've saved the best for last.
Doom: No! Not the mask! NO!
Scott: Looky, looky! Imagine that. No scars at all. You think the world doesn't know you fix your face the instant you steal ultimate power? The Beyonder, the Life Force — all those fixed faces, all those mind transfers into new bodies and new faces. And yet every single time, you somehow end up scarred again afterwards. You know what I think, Doom? You scar your face yourself. For a man like you, it's much easier inflicting a fake imperfection on yourself than admitting to having a real one. It's not the ugly dead scar tissue of your face that isolated you from humanity, Doom. It's the ugly dead scar tissue of your soul. There's a word for people like you: sociopath. Someone utterly incapable of even conceiving — let alone comprehending — that other people are real. It's Planet Doom, population 1 — with 7 billion people-shaped cardboard cutouts for you to fold, spindle, and mutilate at will. I've had the misfortune of meeting people convinced you're not a monster. That you're nuanced. Layered. Deep. Having some of the cell-mates I had would soon cure them of that view. Sociopaths mimic human virtues the way jackdaws mimic human voices. Your nuance is the solid gold toilet seat in Saddam's palace. Your sophistication is the Wagner phonograph playing in the background at the Wannsee conference. Your depth is the hopper capacity of Uday's and Qusay's wood chipper. Your boast that "Doom never lies" is always the first lie out of your mouth. Your Ruritanian code of honor is as constant and real as a Potemkin village, only a pretense to be the man you know you're not.
Doom: And how are you any different than I am... hero? You invade my country, you destroy my property, you assault my person with the goal of first maiming and crippling and then murdering me.
Scott: I know one way I'm different — I know I'm not God and don't deserve to be.
Doom: Noooooo!
Doom: No! Not the mask! NO!
Scott: Looky, looky! Imagine that. No scars at all. You think the world doesn't know you fix your face the instant you steal ultimate power? The Beyonder, the Life Force — all those fixed faces, all those mind transfers into new bodies and new faces. And yet every single time, you somehow end up scarred again afterwards. You know what I think, Doom? You scar your face yourself. For a man like you, it's much easier inflicting a fake imperfection on yourself than admitting to having a real one. It's not the ugly dead scar tissue of your face that isolated you from humanity, Doom. It's the ugly dead scar tissue of your soul. There's a word for people like you: sociopath. Someone utterly incapable of even conceiving — let alone comprehending — that other people are real. It's Planet Doom, population 1 — with 7 billion people-shaped cardboard cutouts for you to fold, spindle, and mutilate at will. I've had the misfortune of meeting people convinced you're not a monster. That you're nuanced. Layered. Deep. Having some of the cell-mates I had would soon cure them of that view. Sociopaths mimic human virtues the way jackdaws mimic human voices. Your nuance is the solid gold toilet seat in Saddam's palace. Your sophistication is the Wagner phonograph playing in the background at the Wannsee conference. Your depth is the hopper capacity of Uday's and Qusay's wood chipper. Your boast that "Doom never lies" is always the first lie out of your mouth. Your Ruritanian code of honor is as constant and real as a Potemkin village, only a pretense to be the man you know you're not.
Doom: And how are you any different than I am... hero? You invade my country, you destroy my property, you assault my person with the goal of first maiming and crippling and then murdering me.
Scott: I know one way I'm different — I know I'm not God and don't deserve to be.
Doom: Noooooo!
— FF #16 (2014), written by Karl Kesel
About Doom
Dr. Victor Von Doom is exactly the sort of average-Joe-turned-badass who transcended a life of petty crime and went straight to large-scale, world-domination-scheming global villainy. Created by comics legends Stan Lee and Jack Kirby in 1962, Von Doom has spent nearly fifty years beating the shit out of the Fantastic Four, Spider-Man, Iron Man, the Silver Surfer, The Incredible Hulk, The Avengers, the X-Men, Punisher, Blade, Superman, and every other roided-up do-gooder asshole in comics, and even though writers always seem to fuck him up in movies and TV shows, you still love him anyways — mostly because he wears a suit of nuclear-powered titanium armor, wears a bitchin’ green cloak, carries a Lil' Jon-style pimp chalice, commands near-limitless power from a horde of ultra-obedient minions, and because his last name is "Doom" and/or "Von Doom".
"I had a hand in creating Doctor Doom...Doom is a very tragic figure... I like Doom. Doom has got a lot of class, he's got a lot of cool. But Doom has one fallacy: he thinks he's ugly. He's afraid to take that mask off. Doom is an extremist; he's a paranoid. He thinks in extremes... if Doom had an enemy, he'd have to wipe him out. And if Doom thought that anybody was smarter than himself, he'd kill 'em, because Doom would have to be the smartest man in the world."
— Jack Kirby, Kirby & Lee: Stuff Said!: The complex genesis of the Marvel Universe, in its creators' own words, by John Morrow
"Everybody has Doctor Doom misunderstood. Everybody thinks he's a criminal, but all he wants is to rule the world. Now, if you really think about it objectively, you could walk up to a policeman, and you could say, 'Excuse me, officer, I want to tell you something: I want to rule the world.' He can’t arrest you; it's not a crime to want to rule the world."
— Stan Lee
"The truism that Victor von Doom is, despite his villainy, a noble person is absolute crap. A man whose entire motivating force is jealousy is ridiculously petty, not grandly noble. Yes, Doom is regal and yes, whenever possible, Doom likes to act as though he possesses great moral character because to him that's what great men have... [but Doom] would tear the head off a newborn baby and eat it like an apple while his mother watched if it would somehow prove he was smarter than Reed."
"Doom was born a [Romani]... Put differently, he was one of us. His aspect was scarred from his attempts to transcend himself, and so he donned a mask...Comics are so often seen as the province of white geeky nerds. But, more broadly, comics are the literature of outcasts, of pariahs, of Jews, of gays, of blacks. It's really no mistake that we saw ourselves in Doom, Magneto or Rogue."
