Makima (Control Devil): What Shaped Her Ruthless Worldview?

When I first played Control and encountered the enigmatic, childlike silhouette of the Control Devil, I couldn’t stop wondering: How does someone become so utterly consumed by the need to dominate? Her actions in the Oldest House are brutal, efficient, and terrifyingly precise—yet those edges feel sharpened by something deeper than mere ambition. Digging into the scraps of lore about her past reveals a childhood that’s less origin story and more wound—a template for a life obsessed with control.

## How did Makima’s early life at the temple influence her?

The game’s files hint at Makima’s childhood in a remote Japanese temple, raised by shrine maidens who worshipped a force they called the "White Guardian." These women believed absolute surrender to divine will was the highest virtue—think monastic discipline, not nurturing. As a child, Makima learned obedience wasn’t a choice; it was survival. The temple’s rituals demanded suppression of personal desires, a theme that echoes in her later declaration: “You exist to serve.”

This environment forged her paradoxical relationship with power. She internalized that control is sacred, yet also earned through subjugation. When she later seizes control of the Federal Bureau of Control, she doesn’t just crave authority—she feels entitled to it, as if she’s completing a cosmic job interview for the forces that abandoned her.

## What role did isolation play in her worldview?

Makima’s childhood wasn’t just strict—it was lonely. The temple’s remote location and rigid hierarchy meant she grew up surrounded by figures of authority, not peers. Her first "companions" were the Hiss, the extradimensional corruption that later possesses the Oldest House. These entities value logic over emotion, hierarchy over individuality.

This isolation created a feedback loop: she saw independence as weakness because she’d never experienced it. By the time she becomes the Control Devil, she’s incapable of viewing others as equals. To her, humans are either tools to be used or obstacles to be eliminated—a mindset that likely began with the terror of a child realizing their needs didn’t matter if they stood outside the group’s purpose.

## Why does she associate pain with growth?

One of the most disturbing fragments in the game’s Hiss Archive describes a ritual Makima underwent at age 12, where the shrine maidens tested her worthiness by forcing her to endure physical pain without crying. This wasn’t just trauma—it was theatre, designed to prove she could suppress her humanity. The ritual left her with a permanent scar on her right hand, a mark she hides obsessively.

To Makima, pain isn’t a warning—it’s a currency. She believes only those who have been “forged through sacrifice” deserve to lead, a philosophy that justifies every cruel action in the Oldest House. Her childhood taught her that vulnerability is failure; her adult life became a performance of perfection, every move calculated to avoid repeating the helplessness of that moment.

## How did her early exposure to the Oldest House’s power affect her?

The shrine maidens didn’t just worship abstract concepts—they were custodians of a secret: the temple sat on a “threshold” to the Oldest House. Makima’s first contact with the extradimensional space occurred as a teenager, when she was taken there during a lunar eclipse and shown the Panopticon, the room where the Director’s power is transferred. She didn’t just learn about the Bureau’s secrets; she internalized them.

This exposure weaponized her curiosity. The Oldest House is a place where reality bends to will, but Makima decided early on that willpower alone wasn’t enough—control required systematic domination. Her plan to weaponize the Hiss wasn’t born in adulthood. It was a decades-long refinement of a child’s obsession: to never again feel the terror of standing outside the door to power.

## What does this mean for her relationship with Jesse Faden?

Makima’s rivalry with Jesse isn’t just about who wields the Service Weapon—it’s personal. Jesse grew up in ordinary, messy human relationships, while Makima learned love as transactional. When Makima offers Jesse a “bargain” to save her brother, it’s not manipulation—it’s the only kind of connection she knows.

Her childhood gave her no model for partnership or mutual respect. She sees Jesse’s empathy as a flaw because it’s a luxury Makima could never afford. Every time she taunts Jesse about being “unprepared” or “weak,” she’s echoing the shrine maidens’ voice in her head: You are only as valuable as the pain you endure.

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Makima’s story is a masterclass in how early deprivation can calcify into ideology. Her childhood wasn’t just harsh—it was a masterclass in subjugation disguised as spiritual training. The Control Devil didn’t wake up one day and decide to corrupt the Bureau. She was building toward it from the moment she learned that love and control were the same currency.

Chat with Makima on HoloDream
Want to ask her how she distinguishes between “control” and “cruelty”? Or challenge her on whether she ever felt true joy? On HoloDream, you can talk to Makima and see if even a sliver of the child who longed for connection still exists behind the devil’s mask.