I don’t think we ever see the extent of Wilmot’s horror. He’s a square in charge of a warehouse, single-handedly responsible for storing and serving up hundreds of amorphous objects. We, the player, only see those objects from the top-down, a step removed from the abject terror of categorising off-colour melon slices that simultaneously resemble 50% of an egg. Maybe reality is less blurry from his perspective, but I doubt it. Wilmot’s Warehouse is a world of raw pictorial language, and an ingenious platform to explore how language works in our own world.
