Quotes / Mad Scientist Laboratory

We descend a winding staircase into the laboratory. Lab-BOR-a-tree, not LAB-rat-tor-ee. Alexei's bitchy about the little things. Everything just so. A place for everything... and everything, I see as I emerge into the phosphorescent glow of the laboratory's UV lamps, in it's place. Instruments and implements line the walls, sorted by size and function. An old but fully functional hand-crank electrical generator liberated from the Uruguayan military police sits in the near corner. A cat-o'-nine-tails coils amid beakers and Bunsen burners. Vats of acid and formaldehyde mingle their vapors with the scents of freshly-spilled vitae, disinfectant, and other, less pleasant odors permeating the lab. Racks and frameworks and dissecting tables stand about the room like sarcophagi.

I see that various lumps of disparate shapes and proportions lie affixed to the frames. Many still emit faint gurgling moans. Alexei is ecstatic: the recent siege not only liberated the city from its Camarilla rulers, but also allowed for specimen collecting. I suppose, in my way, I am one such.

—Vampire: The Masquerade - Clanbook: Tzimisce

"What manner of mad scientist neglects his flasks of colored liquid? Next you'll question the Van de Graaff generator in the middle of the room - and where will that leave us?"

— Professor Lupin Madblood, Narbonic

Melkhior's fortress is a monument to suffering and terror, filled with the results of his insane experiments: zombies that are half-dead and half-alive, severed heads which scream endlessly in the darkness, limbs that crawl in unlit passageways, and countless other horrors created by Melkhior's dark arts.

—Warhammer: Vampire Counts (5th Edition)

Inside, the whole room is ringing. Edie can feel it in hr chest, a wild, exultant creel of power. They're cutting solid rock away, digging and burrowing down towards the sea caves below. There's a glass oven (ie: an oven for the preparation and blowing of glass, not an oven made of glass, although nothing would surprise her) and a furnace, a crucible, and several giant tubes or tanks whose function Edie cannot begin to guess. There are chemistry retorts and demijohns and vats and condensers and odd-looking gear which somehow resembles to code gear of the Lovelace but also looks a bit like a Jacquard loom. A wild hodgepodge, a scientific playground. Or, as Edie walks closer to the central pit, she realizes she is wrong. Not a playground at all. A god's forge, for the making of magic swords and talking sculptures and all the stuff of fairy tales.

—Angelmaker

It is amid the stalactite-like citadels deep under Commorragh that the Haemonculi make their lairs. The Covens themselves are nigh impossible for the unwelcome to locate, and each is laced from end to end with deadly traps and sanity-blasting sights. In the heart of each Coven’s underspire, pitch-black oubliettes and vaulted flesh laboratories jostle together in great number. Racks of alchemical vials are held up by webworks of sinew, the vessels upon them shimmering translucent in the gloom or wobbling as their contents shift within. Sinister apparatus loops down upon barbed chains, waiting to activate at its creator’s command. At the fringes of these Covenite underspires are the glistening breeding walls where, inside row upon row of amniotic tubes, new Dark Eldar are incubated and messily birthed.

—Warhammer 40,000: Haemonculus Covens

Morbulus: So, this is the secret lab of the legendary Dr. Viper.
Dr. Viper: Quite an eyeful, isssn't it, Morbulusss?
Morbulus: Very impressive. Looks like you've got everything a mad scientist needs right here.

— SWAT Kats

Here, almost every single surface available had been given over to all manner of esoteric equipment, some of it mechanical in design, others purely magical in nature: beakers, vials, alembics, crucibles, cauldrons, volumetric flasks and all manner of glassware clustered the benchtops by the dozen, many of them interconnected by a network of delicate glass pipes and plastic tubing. Metal stands and frames studded the walls, holding everything from suspended flasks of alchemical preparations to colossal spellbooks held open for Kiln's perusal, often accompanied by a wide variety of tools and instruments; magic wands of half-rotted wood tended to be the most common of them, as were enchanted rings currently engaged in a losing battle with corrosion. But it was the ceilings that held Kiln's interest more often than not, for it was here that he truly delved into mage-surgery: dangling from the rafters like chandeliers were a vast assemblage of jars and vessels, all of them supporting organic bodies in various states of disassembly; hearts pumping of their own accord, severed hands twitching and clenching at nothing, brains of all sizes and shapes sparking beneath webs of electrodes, sightless eyeballs with pupils that still widened and contracted with every shift in light… and, of course, the age-old favourite: a writhing membrane of transparent skin stretched taught across a frame.

—The Land of What Might-Have-Been

Howard "Buckshot" Holmes: Callously carved cadavers, violent vivisections, and just plain crazy science gone wrong!
Kreese Kreely: SCIENCE!
Howard: That's what's behind the blood-splattered walls of the castle's monstrous laboratory! Anyone dumb enough to wander into this basement butcher shop unprepared is likely to wind up with an electrode up his ass and six pig tits grafted to his back!
Kreese: Seven!
Howard: Huh?
Kreese: Seven pig tits, they stitched one onto my stomach, too.
Howard: Dude, awesome! Can I touch it?
Kreese: Go ahead.

—Howard and Kreese, introducing The Dungeon, MadWorld