It has mismatched button eyes. One a murky green, the other a chipped, faded blue. Its fur is a deliberately matted grey, and it has this little stitched-on frown that sits somewhere between melancholy and just… done. Its name is Bartholomew, and it is the single most divisive object in a fandom I have ever seen.
And I’ve been in a lot of fandoms. I was there for the Star Wars prequel debates. I witnessed the great Shipping Wars of the early 2000s forums. I’ve seen communities rise and fall over patch notes and character redesigns. But this? This is different. This is a special kind of beautiful, high-octane nonsense.
Because, you see, Mouthwashing fans are tearing each other apart over a cat plush.
A stuffed animal. I feel like I need to repeat that for effect.
So, What's the Big Deal With a Stuffed Cat?
To understand the sheer gravity of the Bartholomew Brouhaha, you have to understand Mouthwashing. It’s not some bright, happy game where you run around collecting coins like in an endless runner. Not even close. Mouthwashing is a grim, atmospheric, soul-crushingly difficult indie adventure game. Think nihilistic philosophy meets survival horror, all rendered in a bleak, watercolour art style. It’s the kind of game that leaves you staring at the credits in stunned silence, questioning your life choices.
And Bartholomew the cat? He’s not even really in the game.
Well, not visually. He’s mentioned exactly once. In a single, water-stained journal entry you can find in a flooded cellar, the game’s tortured protagonist writes about a stray cat with mismatched eyes that he fed as a child—a fleeting moment of innocence before his world collapsed into shadow and rust. That’s it. That’s the entire canon of Bartholomew. He’s a symbol. A ghost. A metaphor for lost warmth in a cold, unforgiving world.
And now he’s a $34.99 plushie with floppy ears and beans in his paws.
You can see where the problem starts.
The Great Plush Schism: Lore Purists vs. Merch Modernists
The moment the official game studio, Silent Orchard Interactive, announced the Bartholomew plush, the fandom split right down the middle. It wasn't a gradual crack; it was a seismic event. On one side, you have the faction I’ve come to think of as the Lore Purists.
The Purists are apoplectic. To them, turning a profound symbol of despair into a cuddly toy is an act of profound artistic sacrilege. It’s taking the game’s brutal, uncompromising tone and sanitizing it for mass consumption. They argue that holding a physical, cutesy version of Bartholomew fundamentally misunderstands his purpose in the narrative. He isn’t supposed to be cute. He’s supposed to be a memory that hurts. This, they cry from their Reddit threads and Discord channels, is the “cutesy-fication” of art. It’s a betrayal.
And then you have the Merch Modernists.
The Modernists think the Purists need to, and I’m quoting a popular forum post here, “go outside and touch some actual, non-metaphorical grass.” They see the plush as… well, a plush. A cool piece of merchandise that allows them to connect with a game they love. For them, Bartholomew represents a rare glimmer of light in the game’s oppressive darkness, and having a plush to celebrate that isn't a betrayal—it's an embrace. It’s a way to reclaim a tiny piece of hope from a relentlessly bleak story. Who are the Purists, they ask, to gatekeep how people enjoy things? It’s not like buying the plush rewrites the game’s code.
Why This Is About More Than Just a Plush Cat
I’ve been watching this unfold for weeks now, and I’ve realized something. It’s not really about the stuffing or the button eyes. This is a proxy war. It’s a battle for the very soul of Mouthwashing and, by extension, a lot of other indie darlings that suddenly find mainstream success.
The core question is this: What happens when a niche, deeply personal piece of art becomes a commercial product? When does a “work” become a “brand”?
The Purists fell in love with a difficult, uncompromising adventure game that felt like it was made for them. They see the plush as the first step on a slippery slope toward mainstream pandering. First a cat plush, then what? A happy, colorful mobile game spinoff that plays like some tropical surfing adventure? A Saturday morning cartoon? They’re afraid of losing the very thing that made Mouthwashing special: its refusal to compromise.
The Modernists, on the other hand, want the creators to be successful. They want more people to discover this amazing game. They see merchandise not as a watering down of the brand, but as a victory lap for an indie studio that deserves all the success in the world. They believe a game can be both a profound work of art and a successful commercial entity with cool merch.
The most fascinating part? The developers at Silent Orchard have remained completely, utterly silent. No clarifications, no blog posts, no tweets defending their decision. Just a quiet restock of the Bartholomew plush when it sold out in three hours. Their silence has become a Rorschach test for the fandom. The Purists see it as a guilty admission of a cash grab. The Modernists see it as a quiet confidence in their artistic and commercial choices.
It’s a perfect storm of artistic integrity, consumerism, and the eternally fraught relationship between creators and their fans. And it’s all focused on one sad, stuffed cat.
Frequently Asked Questions About the Bartholomew Brouhaha
So, why exactly are Mouthwashing fans tearing each other apart over a cat plush?
In short, it’s a conflict of interpretation. One side sees the plush as a betrayal of the game’s dark, serious themes—turning a symbol of tragedy into a cute commodity. The other side sees it as a harmless way for fans to celebrate a piece of lore they love and support the creators. It's a classic battle between artistic purism and fan consumerism.
What's the 'Mouthwashing' game even about?
Imagine a very bleak storybook about loss and decay, but you can walk around in it. It's a third-person adventure game known for its punishing difficulty, minimalist storytelling, and incredibly dense, melancholic atmosphere. It’s art, but the kind of art that makes you want to call your mom afterwards just to make sure she's okay.
Have the developers picked a side in the plush debate?
Nope. Not a word. They released the plush and have said nothing about the fan reaction, which is only making things more intense. Their silence is basically a blank canvas that both sides are projecting their own arguments onto.
Isn't this whole thing kind of... silly?
Oh, absolutely. On the surface, it’s utterly ridiculous. But it’s also a fascinating look at what people care about. Fandoms are passionate, and that passion often comes out in strange ways. The plush is just the physical object they've latched onto to debate much bigger ideas about art, commercialism, and ownership.
Where can I actually get the Bartholomew plush?
It’s only available on the official Silent Orchard Interactive online store. But good luck—it sells out almost instantly every time they restock it. The controversy has, ironically, made it the most sought-after piece of gaming merch this year.
I have to admit, after all this, I went and ordered one. I had to. It felt like I needed a physical artifact from this bizarre cultural moment. When it arrives, I’m not sure if I’ll see it as a symbol of artistic compromise or a cute tribute to a great game. Maybe, just maybe, it can be both.
