Two weeks later and I’m still sad. Maybe this article will help me cope. But probably not.
For the last few seasons of Mob Psycho 100, Dimple has played a fairly small and unassuming role in the plot. He’s the little devil on Mob’s shoulder, always encouraging our young protagonist to go against his morals and use his powers for personal gain. Every now and then, he’d create some conflict, like when he partnered with Ritsu in season one. Most of the time, he’s just Mob’s trouble-making sidekick.
But that’s not to say Dimple is a flat character. His character arc kept chugging along right alongside Mob’s, albeit in a more subtle manner than our hero. Now that it’s all said and done in season three, it’s safe to say that Dimple is one of the strongest characters in Mob Psycho 100.
Most of Dimple’s backstory is a mystery. He’s a spirit that’s been around for an unspecified amount of time. His goal, on the other hand, is pretty clear: he wants to become a god. So he starts a ‘peaceful’ cult in an effort to do so.
Until our favorite awkward middle schooler comes along and tears it all down.
Now much smaller, weaker, and goofier, Dimple does the only thing he can: he sticks to Mob. If he could just get the kid to sing to his tune, then becoming a god would be a walk in the park. The kid was about as cooperative as a herd of cats, but he could work with that.
Much to the spirit’s dismay, however, Mob did not bend so easily. No matter what was thrown at him, the young esper refused to give up on his convictions. Dimple could never wear him down. Rather, it was Dimple himself to be worn down.
As the story goes on, Dimple gradually comes to see Mob’s perspective. He comes to appreciate his constant efforts to improve himself and respect those who work truly hard to fulfill their goals. For example, when he possesses the captain of the Body Improvement Club in season two, Dimple spends the whole time bragging about how cool and tough the captain is.
By the end of season two, Dimple is no longer the little devil on Mob’s shoulder. Sure, he still offers him shortcuts and easy ways out to get what he wants, but those are half-hearted; he knows that Mob wouldn’t take the easy way out. He’s Mob’s troublesome, slightly narcissistic but well-meaning buddy.
Until that damn broccoli shows up.
This is where Dimple tries to step back into the role he had back in season one. All this time, he still wanted to become a god. Now, thanks to the Divine Tree and the Psycho Helmet religion, he has a chance to get exactly what he wanted. He hardly even has to work for it. Godhood is handed to him on a silver platter.
Just for a little while, Dimple has everything he always thought he wanted. People praise him as a god, satisfying his ego. His divine powers make him nigh unstoppable, with only Mob being able to stand against him. If all this had happened to season one Dimple, he’d have been perfectly content.
Problem is: Dimple isn’t the same as he was in season one. After spending so long with the ever-hard-working Mob, he’s not the kind of person (or spirit, I guess) to take the easy way out anymore. Simply having divinity given to him by sheer luck leaves him feeling hollow and unsatisfied.
But more than anything, he’s lonely.
Remember: Dimple is a highly egocentric character. In the original Japanese version, he refers to himself using the -sama suffix, so he basically calls himself Lord Dimple. One of the main reasons he wanted to become a god is to have that vanity fulfilled and have people acknowledge him. He likes to think that he’s amazing, but he desperately wants that extra validation.
Mob gives him that by being friends with him. He doesn’t suck up to Dimple and further boost his ego. Instead, he simply sees Dimple for who he truly is. Not as a massive all-powerful god, but as a tiny little ghost that just wants to be seen. In the end, that’s all the little guy ever really wanted.
Turns out, being a god isn’t all about the divine power or the worshippers. It was about the friends we made along the way.
Dimple is a wonderfully well-written character. His arc progresses in small, subtle, but meaningful ways all the way until it comes to an explosive end. You don’t really realize how big of a role he truly plays until it’s all over. But once it ends, you realize just how powerful it was the whole time.
Much like a truly good friend: you don’t realize how good you have it until it’s gone.
Nope, this didn’t work, I’m still really sad.