I never expected someone to impersonate me.
I'm not a celebrity or influencer. I’m a game developer — someone who’s built a professional identity through years of work on UEFN, Fortnite, and my own games, sharing knowledge, shipping content, and occasionally contributing to platforms like HackerNoon. That’s what made this experience so disturbing:
One day, I discovered that someone had created a fake X (Twitter) profile pretending to be me. They used the username @porkotyler from an old student project of mine before I started working on video games.
It wasn’t inflammatory or controversial. It wasn’t even especially active. But it was convincing — enough to pass as me if you didn’t look closely. And that’s exactly what made it dangerous.
The Discovery
The account had been created in 2007 but only became active in February 2025. It posted almost exclusively about Fortnite and UEFN — the exact field I work in. No jokes, no trolling, no wild takes — just impersonation through quiet, calculated mimicry.
The account had amassed 7,300 followers but barely any engagement. No replies, no likes, no quote tweets. Just a strange, silent presence.
They even created a Linktree profile, using only my real, official links. No scams. No fake websites. Just a shadow version of me.
My Response
The moment I realized what was happening, I took action:
- I reported the impersonation to X, which resulted in the account being temporarily restricted and placed under investigation.
- I searched the internet for duplicates, checking other platforms and search engines.
- I notified Linktree and provided proof of identity, requesting the removal of the impersonating profile.
- I also contacted local law enforcement and their cybercrime department to document the case and prepare for potential legal action if it escalates.
I documented everything: screenshots, links, timestamps, platform responses. In situations like this, paper trails matter.
The Psychological Toll
Even though the impersonator didn’t post anything offensive, the experience was deeply unsettling.
When someone pretends to be you online, especially in your professional space, it creates a disturbing sense of loss: loss of control, of identity, and of safety. You start asking questions that don’t have answers:
- Why me?
- What were they after?
- Is this going to happen again?
I found myself anxious, distracted, constantly checking for updates. The account may have been passive, but the emotional impact was anything but.
Why I’m Sharing This
There are three reasons I chose to write this article.
1. To Help Other Developers
If you’re a programmer, creator, or public-facing builder, you are a potential target — even if you’re not famous. This happens more often than we talk about. I want others to learn from my experience and know what to do before they’re caught off guard.
2. To Create a Public Record
This article acts as an official statement — a permanent, timestamped declaration that this is me, and that anything else out there under my name, but not connected to my real accounts, is fraudulent.
3. To Reclaim My Voice
Someone tried to hijack my digital identity. Writing this lets me take it back — fully, publicly, and without fear.
What You Can Do to Protect Yourself
If you're in tech or creative industries, here’s a simple checklist:
- Google yourself regularly (use incognito mode).
- Use KnowEm or NameCheckr to see if someone’s using your name or handle elsewhere.
- Set up Google Alerts for your name and alias.
- Document everything — screenshots, URLs, timestamps.
- Report impersonation immediately to platforms like X, Linktree, GitHub, etc.
- Keep your usernames consistent across platforms, even if inactive, to reduce risk.
Even if it seems harmless at first, take it seriously. A passive impersonator today can become a malicious actor tomorrow.
Final Thoughts
This experience reminded me how fragile our digital identities really are — and how important it is to guard them.
The internet makes it incredibly easy for bad actors to create convincing fakes. But with vigilance, documentation, and transparency, we can fight back — and we should.
If you’re reading this and something similar happened to you, know this: you’re not alone. It’s not just “an online thing.” It’s real, and it matters.
This article is how I take my name back. And if you ever need to do the same — let this be your starting point.
Want to connect? My real links are in my official bio. If you’ve been through something like this and want to talk, feel free to reach out or share your story.