Post by Simon Butler on Feb 5, 2005 10:12:09 GMT -5
Some of the worst Ocean games ever were done by an external software house I worked for before my first stint at Ocean.
They were called Canvas...and they were set up by ex-Imagine guys Steve Cain and Ian Weatherburn.
Steve had the common sense to step back almost immediately after helping set it up due to Ian's overwhelming desire to be a tin-pot dictator. He's not totally responsible for his manners or lack of them...he was ruined by having worked for Imagine first and they ingrained his already abrasive personality with an unbearable ego and a complete lack of concern for other people's feelings.
Ian then recruited industry fat-bastard Roy Gibson...another Imagine retard and together they wormed their way into David Ward and Jon Woods good books, but almost immediately after that they proceeded to chrun out complete dross like Highlander and It's a Knockout and Legend of Kage.
Titles that actually sully the good name of shite.
We all knew what we were doing was crap...but we had no say whatsoever in the quality of the games...Ian and Roy made sure the games were done as fast as possible so they could get the cash and move speedily onto the next one.
In all good conscience I couldn't tolerate it after a while and regardless of the salary I quit.
I then found myself recruited by Mr Bracey and cannot thank him enough...I have no idea what I would have done if he hadn't phoned me.
Roy went on to embezzle just about every penny that he could from Canvas and his supposed partner and friend Ian. He then stole a job in America that was meant for Steve Ward and split.
Mainly because the word reached him that my last paycheck hadn't arrived and I was headed to the Wirral to kick him ten stone lighter. Or so I heard.
But I did get to slap Ian around for an hour or so which filled an otherwise empty afternoon.
Ian floundered for a while but once a seemingly endless line of repo men started turning up at the office and shame of shames at his snooker club in Soutport to demand the keys to his car...he threw in the towel, rented a motor, drove to Hudersfield to go with his father tosee the home side play and the same evening drove up onto the Yorkshire moors and gassed himself.
Thanks Roy you useless sack of shit!
Ian was flawed but he was worth ten of you.
I hope you can sleep at night.
They were called Canvas...and they were set up by ex-Imagine guys Steve Cain and Ian Weatherburn.
Steve had the common sense to step back almost immediately after helping set it up due to Ian's overwhelming desire to be a tin-pot dictator. He's not totally responsible for his manners or lack of them...he was ruined by having worked for Imagine first and they ingrained his already abrasive personality with an unbearable ego and a complete lack of concern for other people's feelings.
Ian then recruited industry fat-bastard Roy Gibson...another Imagine retard and together they wormed their way into David Ward and Jon Woods good books, but almost immediately after that they proceeded to chrun out complete dross like Highlander and It's a Knockout and Legend of Kage.
Titles that actually sully the good name of shite.
We all knew what we were doing was crap...but we had no say whatsoever in the quality of the games...Ian and Roy made sure the games were done as fast as possible so they could get the cash and move speedily onto the next one.
In all good conscience I couldn't tolerate it after a while and regardless of the salary I quit.
I then found myself recruited by Mr Bracey and cannot thank him enough...I have no idea what I would have done if he hadn't phoned me.
Roy went on to embezzle just about every penny that he could from Canvas and his supposed partner and friend Ian. He then stole a job in America that was meant for Steve Ward and split.
Mainly because the word reached him that my last paycheck hadn't arrived and I was headed to the Wirral to kick him ten stone lighter. Or so I heard.
But I did get to slap Ian around for an hour or so which filled an otherwise empty afternoon.
Ian floundered for a while but once a seemingly endless line of repo men started turning up at the office and shame of shames at his snooker club in Soutport to demand the keys to his car...he threw in the towel, rented a motor, drove to Hudersfield to go with his father tosee the home side play and the same evening drove up onto the Yorkshire moors and gassed himself.
Thanks Roy you useless sack of shit!
Ian was flawed but he was worth ten of you.
I hope you can sleep at night.