In defense of an oft-hated character
The hatred for pVerso is understandable. His role in the annihilation of the canvas' people is hard to justify. (Ignoring the fact that it was Renoir and not Verso doing this.) But everything that led up to it wasn't Verso's choice. On the contrary, Verso is punished every time he tries to save his families while preserving the canvas (HIS canvas) and its people. His actions make perfect sense when digging into his character.
Verso was never intended to be his own person. And never will be. He's nothing more than the clone of a dead man, deprived of individuality. It's debatable whether he even has free will. Every decision is heavily influenced by real Verso's personality. He's programmed to love his family, to have a passion for music, and to sacrifice himself for others. He's programmed to be a facsimile of a person. He's forever forced to be someone other than himself. How would you feel if you were forever forced to be someone other than yourself? How would you feel if you never got to be yourself?
Verso was created as tool to be used and a puppet to be controlled. He's only loved when he's useful. His parents can't process their grief, so he has to carry it. His father beats him into submission to force him back into the role he resists. Even his beloved painted sister, burned and tortured by her mother, is just a pawn. This role is so ingrained that he endures immense pain by cutting himself in half, just to briefly bring a smile to the faces of his new friends. He knows that he'll soon lose them, just like all the others. But he can't help getting attached (despite his efforts). How would you feel if being useful was the only way to earn love?
Verso lived a relatively normal life until Clea shattered the illusion. His real family and the fake family are killing each other. Aline, Renoir, and Alicia are all killing themselves in the world that real Verso made. He knows that everything he knows and experiences is make-believe. His life is fake, his world is fake, his family is fake, and his friends are fake. All a lie. The people he loves don't love him back; they only love the person he's designed to replace. How would you feel if being loved depended on your usefulness?
Verso was made immortal, then deeply and repeatedly traumatized. By his own parents. He is denied the right to live and the right to die. He was burned alive. Learned that everything he ever knew was fake. Used by his mother. Controlled by his father. Betrayed and tortured by the woman he loved. Forced to kill his love to defend himself. Brutally and repeatedly killed by his uncaring sister's creations. Both of his families are killing everyone, including themselves, simply because he exists. How many times has he agonizingly died? How many times has he attempted to end his suffering? How would you feel if you were trapped in an endless waking nightmare for 100 years?
The real Verso shines through in the few whimsical scenes. (Choo choo.) Who he could've been had he not been broken by the world "he" made and his parents are destroying. But the decades and decades of trauma, suicidal depression, and nightmare-fueled sleep? That isn't just a story for some people. That's severe clinical PTSD.
Great art is both window and mirror. Art imitates life, and life is brutal.