I am well aware that to a large extent my reaction to what happened is my own fault; I could have brushed it off, not let effect me. But then it would not have been me. The thing that lets me express my art is the thing that also leaves me exposed and sensitive to all energies, positive and negative. You can't open yourself up and only let the good stuff in. It does not work that way. You can learn to transmute the negative energy into positive, but that takes experience and wisdom.
To put it into context, I was only 27 years old and working on the sequel to Kick Off 3 (which was later released as GOAL! by Virgin; ANCO released their own sequel which I did not work on). I was riding high, but I was also very private. ANCO were dealing with everything, I was just working away on the next game. Sensible Soccer had been released that year, and my two year undisputed reign in the field of football games came to and end. Yes, this happens. I can accept that. I was kicking myself for taking too long developing the sequel, but that was my fault.
Amiga Power were big fans of Sensible Soccer, which was fine, but they also started actively attacking KO2. I can understand why, it was an angle. They played the clash of the titans, and they chose their side. It made for entertaining reading. Throughout this I remained silent. Remaining silent was the best thing to do. My view was that I had better just focus on my next game and take football games further than the clone could.
Then one day in August 1992, taking a break from work on GOAL! (then Kick Off 3), I read the newly published July edition of Amiga Power (Issue 15, page 94). To my horror, they had published a fake letter supposedly by me. Although being silent was the right thing to do, it seems that I was not going to be allowed to be. In 1992, way before the term was invented, I was trolled in a most vile way.
The letter makes me look like a complete ass. It makes me look like a sulky little kid. It looks totally unprofessional. It looks fake, doesn't it? Like an April Fool's. Had it just been that, I think I might have survived. Some idiot sent in a letter, and in good faith Amiga Power published it (but without checking its authenticity, which they really should have. This would not have been hard, I did not live in Bristol at the time, but in Ely, Cambridgeshire). The problem is that the editorial (The three editors of that issue were Matt Bielby, Mark Ramshaw and Stuart Campbell) went on to validate the letter in their comments. I knew nothing of the Amiga Shopper Show they refer to. I never spoke to the editorial staff. I never offered to send three of my play testers. As far as I knew we did not have three play testers (Steve Screech was the only play tester I knew). They may have been referring to some kind of exchange with ANCO, I don't know. Their comments may have been made in goodwill. But what it did was validate the authenticity of the letter.
I think this did a lot of damage, because up until then I had kept myself to myself. This letter was the first supposed appearance of Dino Dini the game developer. It was my first message to the world, and it was fake. Who can tell what damage it caused? Who read it? Who believed it? How did it effect public perception of who I was and what I stood for? Maybe the effect was minimal in this respect, maybe nobody, other than me, cared. All I know is that I cared a great deal. It got to me. The picture that was painted was completely at odds with who I was. It was like being back at school again. It was like being bullied again. I was not prepared to deal with this. There is the story and there is the truth and the two are forever fighting. Should I roll over and take it? Should I fight it? Should I ignore it? Lose-lose-lose.
I sent a letter to them complaining. I thought about suing, but that seemed extreme. They printed a retraction, but the damage was done. You can't kill an idea, and ideas, like a computer virus, can take on a life of their own.
Obviously I was struggling with what Sensible Soccer represented. I was struggling with the acclaim that a clone of my game obtained. I was struggling with the negativity thrown at me by those who loved a clone that would never have come to be if it had not been for me. I was struggling with the idea that Sensible Software were a decent game developer who had their own share of success, and yet were not satisfied with that and had to invade my turf. Honestly, wouldn't you as well, if you were in my shoes?
As I struggled with my feelings, I did not know what I thought any more. My confidence was knocked. I could not speak to people about my work without the whole KO / Sensible Soccer thing hanging in the air. The pressure to deliver something great for the sequel become intense in my mind. I questioned by abilities and my creation... I lost my way.
ANCO could have and should have helped me deal with this, but the final blow occurred when I discovered that Anil Gupta, the owner of ANCO, had been talking to Sensible. In a phone call, I challenged Anil, asking him about loyalty. The man with whom I had worked honestly and in good faith and for whom I had created success he had never dreamt of, told me he that owed me no loyalty. And that was that. I quit ANCO.
I don't blame all these events on one stupid letter, but I do point out that there are consequences to every action we take. Had that proto-troll in 1992 not played his trick, had Amiga Power checked the source before publishing, history would probably have taken a different course. Maybe I would have had the strength to overcome the obstacles that were going to present themselves. Maybe I would never have lost contact with the Kick Off and Player Manager names. But having said all this, there is ultimately only one person I can blame or praise for how my life turns out, and that's me. It is not what happens to you, it what you choose to do about it that matters.
I would like to thank all those who have contributed to the major challenges of my life. You all taught me very valuable lessons, which I am still reviewing. No one said life should be easy, and none of this really matters in the end. It's a silly thing. Far worse things happen over the road, after all.
Having finally documented this and put it out there, I feel better. Carrying this stuff around inside tends to weigh you down. Better to park it here, I think.