The Tower is Falling

This isn’t easy to write. I’ve stayed silent for a long time out of fear. Fear that anything I said would be twisted, misinterpreted, or used against me the way so much already has. But silence hasn’t protected me. It has only allowed others to tell a story that isn’t mine. So this is me, taking my voice back. This is the story of what happened to me in the Wizard101 Community.

Years ago, I joined the Wizard101 community as a player. I was happy to be a player. Eventually, I streamed a little, I participated, and I made friends. I didn’t seek power or titles. I was invited into a staff team by someone named Nathan, a prominent community figure who said he was 35 years old and needed help moderating his Facebook group while being a full-time working dad. I didn’t know then that accepting that invitation would change the course of my life.

As time went on, I showed up for the community. I listened, I created, I led. People began to look to me for support, and I gave everything I had. Eventually, the community’s trust in me grew stronger than their trust in the original owner. And during that time, a devastating thing happened: Nathan told us he had cancer.

I believed him. We all did. The community rallied. I supported him publicly and emotionally, even organizing donations at his request. Later, it became clear: it was all a lie. Nathan faked having skin cancer and a heart attack. He never showed proof, and eventually, he stepped down. He claimed it was temporary, but the community asked me to lead. Even then, I gave ownership back out of integrity. But when I asked Nathan to verify his identity, be transparent, and stop the rumors that were forming, he refused. That’s when I became the permanent server owner, not out of ambition but out of duty.

Since then, I’ve poured my heart into building something safe and beautiful. But that hasn’t stopped the shadows from following me. I have been harassed, slandered, and accused of unthinkable things. People have taken moments of kindness and twisted them into something sinister. They’ve called me a predator when, in fact, I was preyed upon.

I was misled about Nathan’s age. He told me and all of us he was 35. He concealed his identity. He refused to show ID. He created a culture where loyalty meant performance, where questioning meant punishment. I was manipulated emotionally, socially, and psychologically. And even after all that, I tried to stay kind. At times, I responded to him with flattery or friendliness because I felt I had to, not because I wanted to.

The truth is, I saw Nathan as intimidating. Someone who reminded me of the abusive dynamic I had experienced more than once with men in other positions of power in my life. He was controlling, manipulative, emotionally reactive, and demanded public praise. I didn’t feel empowered to say no. I was never in love. I wasn’t trying to lead him on. I was afraid. And like many survivors, I did what I could to stay safe in a system that wasn’t safe for me.

Looking back, it’s still difficult to reconcile how someone who claimed to have cancer and heart complications, who led a community, spoke with authority, and told me directly he was 35, could have actually been minor. But that’s what many in the community eventually came to believe, based on the evidence they uncovered and the conversations that followed. When I knew him, I had no reason to question it. He never spoke or acted like a child, and everything about his role and behavior supported the image he presented. The moment I began to feel something was off, I stopped entertaining any flirtation entirely, even at the risk of my position. I started asking him to verify who he was. He refused. I could not have known he wasn’t who he said he was — and I did everything I could to find the truth when it mattered.

Nathan not only told me directly that he was 35. He consistently presented himself that way in public spaces. On the official Wizard101 forums, he spoke with confidence and authority, often weighing in on community-wide topics in a tone that echoed adult leadership. In this post about challenging solo quests, he offered feedback as a seasoned player, while in this announcement, he introduced Ravenwood Academy as a community hub where KingsIsle would be actively reviewing feedback. Something that would only make sense coming from a trusted adult collaborator.

These posts weren’t isolated. They were part of a larger pattern. His tone, role, and recognition reinforced the impression that he was a mature, responsible figure in the community. I wasn’t guessing or projecting. I had every reason to believe I was interacting with a fellow adult.

What hurts the most is knowing this has cost me more than my peace and my Wizard101 accounts. It has cost me opportunities, including the dream of working professionally in the gaming industry. When people Google my name, they don’t find my years of service or the community I helped build. They find rumors. Lies. Silence.

So I’m speaking now. Not for revenge. Not for pity. But for truth.