Some Thoughts: On Maxwell's Self-Perception, His Dynamic with the Others, and the Unique Nature of His Relationship with Wilson
Still Wilson/Maxwell ship content! In this second piece, I want to discuss how the camp members view Maxwell who was a "sinner", the differences between their perspectives and Wilson's, and also examine Maxwell's attitude toward his own crimes—plus another reason why the dynamic between Wilson and Maxwell is one-of-a-kind! (Okay, honestly, there are many more reasons, but let’s tackle them one by one…)
This is a long read with heavy in-game quote references www—I’ve written a lot about my interpretation of Maxwell’s character, and this isn’t even all of it…
Now, onto the main topic! First, interactions between Don’t Starve characters are plentiful, and most of these amusing exchanges happen in their quotes—like Wigfrid hitting Wilson and Woodie with a backscratcher or the lightbulb joke between Wilson, Maxwell, and Wickerbottom.
This is also pretty adorable—Wilson handles Maxwell's shift assignments, even notifying him personally, and Maxwell still manages to get them wrong before cheekily blaming Wilson… Although Maxwell is older, Wilson talks to him like he's Maxwell's guardian, belike he's the one responsible for managing Maxwell's affairs (more on this later in the piece)."
I want to discuss how the camp members' perceptions of Maxwell have shifted—given that he was once the Shadow King, the main antagonist of the previous game / the mastermind who dragged everyone into the Constant to suffer, but is now reduced to a mortal forced to rely on them for survival. Even the narrator describes this situation as "awkward."
Although I really love Maxwell dearly, in my view—even if the reasons remain unclear (initially, it was said Maxwell dragged people in out of boredom for amusement, but later character profiles suggested he was forced, and the stage play's depiction of this was equally ambiguous; to this day, Klei hasn't filled in this plot hole)—Maxwell's act of pulling everyone into the Constant is unforgivable. This single action yanked multiple characters out of their original life trajectories, severing them from their families or careers. Not only that, it flung them from civilized society into a perilous wilderness. Any player who’s experienced the game knows just how dangerous the Constant is—clueless new players (mirroring the characters’ own first-time arrival) can only die and revive repeatedly, struggling in agony until Wilson finally ends it all.
So even if Maxwell technically fulfilled some characters’ wishes (like Wigfrid or Wendy) or provided refuge for those with no place in the real world (Willow or Webber), everyone still has every right to hate him. This is abundantly clear in the single-player game’s examination quotes for Maxwell’s statue and NPC—almost every character expresses disdain. It’s safe to say that if they aren’t seething with hatred, they at least hold deep resentment.
Examining Maxwell’s Statue ↓
The unquoted examination lines are all emotionally neutral, but it’s clear most characters have nothing nice to say about him...
Here, we can also see that initially, Wilson viewed Maxwell with the same hostility and distaste as everyone else. But after the single-player campaign concluded and the timeline shifted to Don’t Starve Together, Wilson’s perception of Maxwell diverged sharply from the others’. The bond between Wilson and Maxwell is undeniably closer than Maxwell’s relationships with anyone else in camp. As the sole survivor to complete Adventure Mode (our boy did it with zero special abilities, mind you), Wilson witnessed every facet of Maxwell’s nature: the silver-tongued deceiver, the vicious tyrant, the panicked schemer, and—most terrifyingly—the merciless monster of the Darkness. Yet he also saw Maxwell at his most pitiful and broken in the Throne Room (Maxwell’s behavior in Adventure Mode is the perfect embodiment of the phrase ‘paper tiger’… all bluster and threats, but utterly powerless against his advancing pawn. )
I’ve already covered the Throne Room scene in my previous piece, so I won’t belabor it here! The key point is that after Wilson freed Maxwell from the throne and took him in, the two spent a significant period alone together—likely a long stretch, given that their first meeting was in autumn, and the finished Florid Postern features a Deerclops Eyeball. This confirms they survived at least one winter together. (Others have noted this before, but it’s crucial.) They lived, worked, and relied on each other, even defeating the seasonal boss as a team before proudly displaying its trophy as a centerpiece of their shared efforts.
And it’s worth noting that many mechanics in Don’t Starve Together—including newly added items or boss health pools—differ from Don’t Starve. Wilson was the last to arrive in the single-player timeline (evident from each character’s chronological entry) yet became the first player to conquer Adventure Mode and dethrone the former king. Meanwhile, Maxwell is the ex-King of Nightmare who created this world. Wilson’s survival skills are indisputable, and while Maxwell’s single-player examination quotes reveal this cat’s practical abilities are… lacking (to put it mildly), his theoretical knowledge of his own creations remains encyclopedic.
But in Don’t Starve Together, with Charlie now the Queen, everything changed. Wilson and Maxwell became the first duo to test multiplayer mechanics, spending at least one winter in a two-person world. This means they had to explore all the new systems and changes together: the first death, the first revival via Telltale Heart, the first death penalty, the first use of a Booster Shot to restore max health, the first discovery of revamped caves, the first realization that bosses had beefed-up health pools… The list goes on.
[Insert headcanon here] Let’s be real—the first to die was definitely Maxwell. This fragile old man has half Wilson’s health, meaning a lot of creatures can one-shot him. Early on, both would’ve been wary of each other (former enemies, after all), and Maxwell wouldn’t volunteer his vulnerabilities. So Wilson, unaware his companion’s real health, probably assumed Maxwell could tank a hit—after all, he’s survived worse—only to turn around and find the old bastard dead 🙏.
Wilson was stunned—suddenly stuck with a ghost companion while his PTSD from Maxwell’s disintegration flared, sending his sanity plummeting ↓↓↓. Maxwell’s death in the throne-room was the closest thing to true death the Constant had ever shown… Wilson had died and revived countless times . He’d watched slain Pigs respawn from houses, Spiders crawl back from nests, even seasonal bosses return year after year. In this world, nothing dies permanently—until Maxwell did.
Sure, it was terrifying, but part of Wilson must’ve assumed Maxwell would reappear too… except he didn’t. The old man was just gone, not a trace left. And he stayed dead for a while (…). Wilson remained on the throne, enduring Ragtime’s ear-grinding, then met Charlie, got dumped back into the Constant, and built a camp—all before Maxwell finally respawned. To Wilson, that interim was absolute death. He’d never seen anything like it! And that disintegration scene? Traumatically vivid, followed immediately by his own despair (throne bondage). So I think his PTSD is very justified…
In Don’t Starve, Wilson always revived via Touch Stones or Meat Effigies—or just reset the world. But with the new rules? He had no clue what death meant now. (‘What if Maxwell got yeeted to another dimension? What if I’m alone again?’) Turns out Maxwell just became a floaty ghost, watching Wilson spiral into madness while crafting a Telltale Heart (Maxwell, baffled: ‘Why’s he freaking out so hard? Since when do spider glands and blood resurrect people? Higgsbury, what kind of science is this?’).
Sanity in freefall, Wilson zombied through the steps and revived Maxwell—who, upon waking, saw Wilson fighting Shadow Creatures and assumed his ghostly presence was the cause (awkward!). Little did he know his own death was what traumatized the poor guy. Not that Wilson would ever admit it, of course.
(And this isn’t the rambling—the narrator said the same situatiion)
(Of course, we can't overlook moments like Maxwell instinctively trying to recognize a boss as "family" only to be yanked back by Wilson, or how—after dying once and becoming even frailer —Wilson invents a Rot-stuffed Booster Shot to inject him, sparking violent resistance from the old cat... All utterly adorable!)
In this environment, the two survived alone together, solving problems and relying on each other. Though their initial distrust ran deep (Maxwell, in particular, was guilt-ridden), their forced cooperation in isolation created the perfect setup for a classic enemies-to-friends(-to-lovers) arc via the good ol' suspension bridge effect. After all, in the wilderness, they were each other's only companionship—their lives literally in one another's hands... Over time, Wilson gradually realized the "evil old cat" was really just a deeply traumatized, prickly creature—not so irredeemable after all, and even growing tamer under his care...!
So by the time the portal was built and everyone gathered, the dynamic became... complicated. Wilson, as the sole Adventure Mode conqueror who'd seen Maxwell at his most broken and spent months alone with him, naturally understood him on a fundamentally different level. Meanwhile, to everyone else Maxwell remained the same smug demon who'd tricked them into this hellscape, watched them die countless times, and laughed at their suffering!! The Maxwell in Wilson's eyes and the Maxwell in theirs might as well have been two entirely different creatures!! (...)
↑This is also why examining Maxwell’s quotes reveals the pattern I mentioned earlier→ He’s visibly more relaxed around Wilson, but when he faces to others, he still reflexively puts on his "Kingly airs" or reverts to that "villainous gentleman" act from his King of Nightmare days—because he’s subconsciously performing the version of himself they expect. But Wilson? He’s seen Maxwell at his rawest: that numb, despairing, broken puppet on the throne. That was the one time Maxwell wasn’t masking himself—couldn’t mask himself—and Wilson was the sole witness. So around him, Maxwell drops the act, belike ‘You’ve already seen me at my worst—what’s the point of pretending now?’
(Yet even with Wilson, Maxwell can’t fully open up… Since his days as William Carter, he’s been the type to bury his true thoughts and circumstances—even from those closest to him, like his brother or Charlie. And this habit directly catalyzed nearly every tragedy in his life.)
Anyway, in the end, everyone still gathered together. You can bet the moment the deceived crew saw the mastermind himself standing right there, they were ready to tear Maxwell limb from limb—Maxwell himself was terrified, with only Wilson standing in the way. Neither side could understand the other, but ultimately Wilson went belike: ‘Look, regardless of anything else—this is my camp. I’m the host here. I’m providing shelter and food. I’m the one sharing my resources with all of you. So if only for my sake, let this man stay. As the one who defeated him, I’ll vouch for him now. He won’t—and can’t —hurt anyone again.’
(Okay, yes, this is peak fanfic cliché—but come on, it’s absolutely plausible, if not outright inevitable!! In Don’t Starve, everyone’s examination quotes for Maxwell’s NPC/statue drip with hatred. When reuniting in DST, they don’t get Wilson’s gradual reconciliation arc—just a group of victims suddenly face-to-face with this pathetically fragile old man…Without intervention, I genuinely can’t fathom how Maxwell wouldn’t get torn to pieces!!
Faced with this, Maxwell would of course put on his usual ‘unflappable tyrant’ act in front of the group—while internally panicking, utterly baffled by Wilson’s defense. All he can think is: ‘Another debt to him…’ (Just how many cat-rescues is this now?... Wilson’s favors are truly unrepayable!)
(And those habits they developed or experiences they shared during their time alone together—those private moments only the two of them would know, that deeper understanding of each other's quirks, flaws, routines, even preferences... A kind of irreplaceable bond forged in isolation. Solitude good! Solitude great!)
Getting back on track—compared to single-player, the group's perception of Maxwell in Don't Starve Together has shifted significantly (though Maxwell himself has also undergone major changes between versions, which is equally fascinating and deserves its own separate discussion). This contrast becomes especially clear when comparing how characters examine Maxwell's statue in single-player versus multiplayer.
Where single-player responses were overwhelmingly hostile, the Together version takes a noticeably different tone:
The tone has largely shifted to teasing and doting (…). Realistically speaking, regardless of what Maxwell might have done during this time to alter their perceptions of him, the change in everyone’s attitude toward him has improved so drastically—to the point of being almost perplexingly amicable—because, let’s not forget, his past actions did irrevocably alter all of their lives. That they could extend such forgiveness and acceptance only goes to show how extraordinarily kind-hearted and tolerant the people he’s encountered truly are. 🙏🙏🙏
(Okay, but also—let’s be real—this cat still doesn’t present himself well!! He’s daily rude, mischievous, complaining about everything, lazy, gluttonous, and just generally insufferable . Yet somehow, they all collectively picked up on his ‘tsundere’ act—that awkward, soft-hearted, easily bullied core beneath the bluster (Maxwell’s trying to play the villain, but his true nature keeps leaking through…).
And so, they genuinely dote on him now. They care for him, treat him as a friend and proper member of camp, consider his feelings, and even try to help him become better.
Even in his short anime video, when Maxwell gets knocked out avoiding the rook's attack (I can't believe it—he wasn't even hit by it, just jumped aside and fainted from the landing—how is anyone this clumsy?), not only do multiple people come looking for him, but when he wakes up, their gazes are full of relieved, warm smiles. The rook that attacked him lies shattered nearby. It's clear evidence they've genuinely come to care for him—really treating him as one of their own now.
And yet, Maxwell remains trapped in his spiral of self-loathing, seemingly oblivious to their kindness—still convinced everyone hates him, completely unaware of their doting affection.
(Examining the Glossamer Saddle ↓)
(Examining Pearl's Pearl ↓)
(Examining the Cracked Pearl ↓)
(↓Examining the Giblet. "Fowl" here is clearly a pun on "foul" - entirely derogatory in meaning.)
He only trusts himself—instinctively wary, convinced everyone around him is hostile, completely lacking any sense of security (though his behavior is understandable, it somehow makes him even more rabbit-like...)
So in truth, Maxwell acts all high-and-mighty like he looks down on everyone, but subconsciously, he places himself at the very bottom. He uses self-deprecating puns, feels utterly insecure, believes he’s unworthy of trust, and has alienated everyone he possibly could (which adds a self-destructive undercurrent to his ‘villain’ act). He reflexively assumes every glance directed his way is accusatory, leaving him no room to escape. All this proves that, in his eyes, he’s fundamentally different from the rest of the camp—while everyone else interacts as equals, he remains an outcast, a guilty aberration. To him, he’s long since forfeited any credibility or right to kindness, let alone belonging. Others’ hatred is just deserved—and the sole architect of this isolation? His own past sins. So really, he ‘deserves’ to be denied normal relationships.
(Let’s be real—the gap between Maxwell’s arrogant facade and his deeply insecure, self-loathing core is delicious … but truthfully, his psychological issues trace back to his magician days. After Charlie fled upon finding him, he’d hide in secret rooms tearing up his own posters (…). And yet, objectively speaking, everyone’s been remarkably patient and forgiving toward him! Given how unforgivable—and frankly, irreparable—his actions were, Maxwell’s guilt complex and Charlie’s outright hatred are probably the only normal reactions here!)
But Maxwell’s perspective isn’t entirely baseless. His quotes reveal a genuinely sensitive, observant side, with a thinking style skewed toward emotionality (somewhat like Wendy’s, though his niece clearly outclasses this dumb cat in both depth of thought and articulation—most of Maxwell’s reflections remain stubbornly emotional and self-centered).
He constantly anthropomorphizes animals around him, projecting his own emotions and circumstances onto all sorts of flora and fauna—seeing himself in them and spiraling into melancholy (depresso mode activated).
(The contrast with Wilson here is stark—he maintains a firm distinction between humans and animals. He might find creatures cute, but animals are animals: meant to be utilized to their fullest, alive or dead. I’d argue this stems from their professions: as a scientist, Wilson likely has medical training (he volunteered to amputate someone’s leg when he examine the Peg Leg, and his Victorian skins/Forge Mode literally depict him as a doctor) (Meaning he’d even chop off a healthy leg)).
—This inevitably made animal experimentation a routine part of his work. Even while showing them respect, daily operations involved euthanizing subjects post-experiment—to him, animals were indeed primarily utilitarian, a perspective only reinforced by survival in the Constant. Hence why this man can call a Koalefant adorable before immediately slaughtering it for meat (then praising its corpse as cute) (…) (He also called frogs cute—Wilson, what even is your aesthetic standard? Okay fine, does this mean perhaps he don't think Maxwell’s ugly?).When he examining Carrot Rats and Rabbits, he considers them lab animals (accurate given their experimental use), wants to capture the Rabbit King for experiments, gets ideas upon seeing Merms, and calls Carrot Rats 'excellent lab rats' or 'just sentient vegetables'. Meanwhile, as a magician, these small creatures were long-term companions in Maxwell’s performances, naturally fostering his habit of anthropomorphizing them. So we can see Max launches into full animal conversations, arguing with his rabbits and their 'entourage' despite their obvious incomprehension.
(Even Maxwell's quotes imply Simon the Rabbit King was a mischievous troublemaker who often ruined his performances - yet he still uses affectionate nicknames like 'scallywag'... Vibe check: that one aunt in YA novels who shrieks and tattles to parents when the protagonist's gang pranks her.)
He also constantly delivers similarly emotional, melancholic monologues—
So honestly, you can tell that compared to Wilson's mostly factual, objective expressions about his direct observations/descriptions of reality, Maxwell's thoughts are clearly more sensitive and emotionally influenced. He unconsciously projects emotional associations onto what he sees, and these reflections—colored by his own experiences and mental state—are usually negative (sigh... depresso).
Additionally, his careful use of pronouns reveals another thoughtful side of him—as others have noted, with WX-78 being a canonically genderless character, Maxwell even specifically uses "Mx." (the honorific for those who prefer not to specify gender) when addressing them. Maxwell is a man from the early 20th century. Even in that era, he still made sure to consider everyone's pronouns, ensuring they felt welcomed and unoffended—which shows that, when he wants to, he does put genuine effort into considering others (though granted, only if he feels like it... but he has done it).
But circling back—what do others really think of Maxwell? This becomes clearest in extreme scenarios, like when characters burn items/assault/kill. Below, I'll list all the reactions toward Maxwell from characters who experienced his reign—those who transitioned from DS to Together.
Honestly, it's clear everyone's being unusually lenient with Maxwell... When examining his pyromaniac version, Wickerbottom treats him like a misbehaving toddler needing placation. But their true feelings surface when checking his assault/murder variants—though usually restrained, they're no saints. None (Wilson and Webber excepted) can genuinely erase his past transgressions from memory, so some lingering tension inevitably persists. Maxwell's surely picked up on these subtle cues—that he remains the camp's perpetual outsider, that they're constantly monitoring him, gauging his threat potential, fully prepared to combine past grievances with new offenses should he misstep again (...). And considering he's still covertly exchanging messages with Charlie behind their backs... yeah, absolute forgiveness seems impossible at this point!)
Even when 'Bad Maxwell' gets examined by normally gentle souls like Wickerbottom and Warly, their verbal lashings are brutal—the fact he can provoke such ire from them is almost impressive...
Wurt's examination quotes reveal glimpses of their underlying stance:
LMAO, From the perspective of an indigenous child bystander the ultimate verbal gut-punch. Part of me pities him (well, self-inflicted misery, really).
Similarly, no one in camp would discuss Maxwell’s sins around the children, so Wurt’s remark must stem entirely from her own observations—if even a sensitive child perceives this, Maxwell himself can’t be oblivious.
From this, we derive two key points:
First, Maxwell possesses profound awareness of his past crimes and harbors genuine guilt. To him, any hatred or retaliation from the others is entirely justified. This isn’t just evident in his self-loathing quotes. During Adventure Mode’s finale in the Throne Room, if the player silences the ragtime record he’s endured for centuries, he whispers “Thank you.” But reactivating the music to torment him prompts: "I suppose I deserve that." ← This line alone crystallizes his stance. He believes he deserves retaliation, malice, false hope followed by cruelty. With the throne denying him death, the music is the sole means to inflict suffering—and he’d accept worse, internalizing it as his due. “I deserve that” fundamentally means he fully acknowledges his crimes, accepts any retribution from his victims andviews all suffering as rightful punishment.
(Thus, any act framed as “payback” would likely paralyze his resistance…)
And in the stage play, the King (Maxwell) delivers this soliloquy:
On the surface, this appears as Maxwell reflecting on his past greed, but in reality, his tragic fate wasn’t determined by ‘one more show or one less.’ Them had chosen him from the start—the moment he obtained the Codex Umbra, his destiny was sealed. Yet without it, William Carter would’ve been crushed in the train accident rather than saved by the Codex’s power—or stranded eternally in the Constant without the Throne, doomed to wander alone. Thus, his claim of ‘never sought the crown’ carries two implications: either guilt over dragging others into this mess (‘Let me suffer here alone’) or belief that his death/nonexistence from the start would’ve spared everyone.
—Hence his follow-up line: ‘What a terrible thought.’ Because it’s essentially suicidal ideation… The fact he entertained this is terrible! Maxwell’s persona radiates arrogance, selfishness, and egocentrism, yet beneath lies a man so consumed by guilt he’s imagined scenarios where the Codex never existed—or where he never existed. (Notice he fixates not on his fate without the throne, but the world’s… implying he wonders if others would’ve thrived without him.) (Seriously, Maxwell should get therapy. His psyche is uniquely catastrophic even by this camp’s standards)
Secondly, even if the other camp members still harbor resentment and distrust toward him—however well-concealed behind politeness and their own inherent kindness—Maxwell’s acute sensitivity allows him to detect the subtlest cues in their behavior. Inevitably, his mind spirals into negative interpretations, even when no malice is intended. His hyperawareness latches onto every flicker of displeasure or hostility, and like a form of self-flagellation, he obsessively dwells on them, sinking deeper into emotional turmoil. The guilt he feels toward others and the self-loathing he describes in his quotes truly leave him no escape—a phrase with dual meaning he’s forced to coexist daily with the living victims of his actions, even relying on them for survival, at the same time, he can’t evade the weight of his own culpability—these consequences are undeniably his to bear.
But Wilson is the exception. As evident from the earlier quotes, Wilson and Webber are the only two characters who transitioned from DS to Together—who lived through Maxwell’s reign yet never bring up his past misdeeds when examining ‘Antagonist Maxwell.’ Webber’s a child who doesn’t hold grudges, but Wilson’s silence is remarkable… He was one of Maxwell’s victim, enduring countless torments for no reason. Yet he’s also the one who defeated Maxwell, personally drawing a line under their feud. He’s seen Maxwell at his most broken, witnessed the shattered soul beneath that pristine suit. From the moment he handed Maxwell that meat skewer to this day, Wilson’s been consistent in his stance—as discussed last time, he refuses to dwell on the past, treating Maxwell with equality, respect, and ease. He’s the only one who’s given Maxwell a real chance to start over and interact normally. The past stays past. Even if Maxwell misbehaves now, Wilson judges each incident on its own merits—no dredging up old wounds. This attitude isn’t forgetfulness or full forgiveness, but conscious letting-go. And Wilson’s the only one positioned to do this. He defeated Maxwell, reversing their power dynamic, his ‘revenge’ was seizing control from Maxwell—suppressing him without cruelty.
Most crucially, he’s just a genuinely good man. Max suffered for decades—meeting Wilson was your one lucky break.jpg
This is why Wilson holds a unique place in Maxwell’s psyche. As noted previously, he’s the sole source of safety Maxwell’s felt in ages—the only one whose care and tolerance let him drop his guard. Like a spoiled old cat, he dares to bicker and banter freely with Wilson. In an environment where Maxwell feels trapped, Wilson’s presence alone doesn’t suffocate him. Because Wilson has moved on—even when Maxwell assaults, burns, or kills. Around him, the cat finally relaxes… and thus, dependency forms. That’s why we see Maxwell’s (seemingly prickly but actually) clingy antics: mimicking Wilson’s speaking, jumping into his conversations, obsessively name-dropping Wilson in quotes—as if proving to others, ‘See? I have someone this close too.’
(Adorable. Will analyze next time…)
To Wilson, who doesn’t overthink this It’s just: ‘Why’s my cat rubbing on me all the time? Fleas?
And let's be honest—Wilson attitude toward Maxwell is truly one-of-a-kind… Relaxed (.), or more accurately, compared to others, he doesn’t really take Maxwell all that seriously (okay fine), also remains unusually patient and tolerant with him.
First, we have to address Wilson’s examination quote for Assault Maxwell: ‘Seems you've gone from "dapper" to "slapper."’ Here, Wilson deploys a vicious pun—while ‘slap’ means to strike, ‘slapper’ as a noun is (…)
Is this teasing or flirting? And coming from someone as gentlemanly and polite as Wilson—just how close are you two behind closed doors to be tossing that word around in broad daylight?! (What’s next, Wilson whispering it during bedroom activities?? Mind the kids in camp!!)
The contrast with others’ reactions to Assault Maxwell is stark. Most tense up, expressing disappointment—‘Same old villain, what destruction will he wreak now?’ Only Wilson drops this aggressively suggestive pun (…). Even with Pyro Maxwell, he quips: ‘Maxwell's just asking to get roasted.’ Like… dude treats Maxwell’s crimes—assault, arson—as jokes (‘no big deal.jpg’). Problem is, this isn’t some random troublemaker but a felon with a rap sheet!! Why the blasé attitude?!
His Murderer Maxwell quote is eerily calm compared to others—angry yet composed. Even when faced with murder, ex-villain-boss edition, Wilson stays unshaken, fully in control… radiating absolute confidence in handling him. And why wouldn’t he? This is the man who single-handedly dethroned the Shadow King—current fragile-old-man Maxwell doesn’t stand a chance.
Compare this to how Maxwell panics when facing 'Murderous Wilson,' and invoking their truce agreement (…the fact he even remembers the truce)
↓ Maxwell’s examination quote for ‘Reviver Wilson’ is gold! This cat who’s normally too awkward to show affection—even with Wilson, whom he calls ‘acquaintance’ at most—actually mutters ‘a real pal’ here. Those ellipses… they carry the weight of genuine vulnerability…! (Alright, friendship meter: 100% unlocked)
So it all makes sense now—why Wilson handles assigning Maxwell’s tasks! He essentially functions as Maxwell’s de facto guardian in camp. During the initial gathering, Wilson was likely the one who vouched for Maxwell’s stay, so everyone naturally deferred to him, thinking, ‘If he’s willing to shield Maxwell and bear responsibility for him, let him manage the old man.’ The others don’t even know how to interact with Maxwell normally, so task delegation flows through Wilson—the only one fluent in ‘communicating with this creature.’ When Maxwell acts off, they report to Wilson first. Maxwell always claims he’s ‘built a wall between himself and the world,’ yet Wilson kicked a hole through it, dismantling their conflict while becoming Maxwell’s sole bridge to others. (Wilson’s motive for breaking in might as well have been: ‘Is this the way home? Wait, did I take a wrong turn—’)
On the other hand, Wilson can suppress Maxwell from every angle—he’s practically Maxwell’s natural counter. Even at Maxwell’s peak during his King of Nightmare era, wielding power beyond mortal comprehension, Wilson still overthrew him. Post-throne, the frail old man gets pinned to the ground without resistance. Conversely, Maxwell only feels at ease around Wilson. This cat needs Wilson’s oversight precisely because a guardian’s role is both restraint and protection.
I realize this piece has focused heavily on Maxwell—but honestly, his characterization is fascinatingly nuanced. At first glance, he appears to be that tired trope of the unlikable, stereotypical villain (an old white guy, no less), but deeper analysis reveals something far more complex. Even within DST's deliberately fragmented narrative, his backstory and in-game quotes paint him as a profoundly conflicted individual—simultaneously childish, stubborn, emotionally contradictory, and prone to melancholic spirals (...frequently, at that). Yet when contextualized with the game's lore, these traits aren't just shallow 'tsundere' quirks—they're the direct result of his traumatic experiences. That depth transforms him from a one-note antagonist into a genuinely textured character.
And so, even when we circle back to the fact that he's still ugly, still rude, and still morally dubious... it's impossible not to feel oddly fond of him. (And hey—if Higgsbury himself likely thinks the same way.)
Finally, a shoutout to my friend shippers! Many of these details emerged through collective lore-digging, which has been the real joy of analyzing this pairing. See you in the next essay!
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