It was all a personality thing. Molyneux was one of those people who had phenomenal charisma and the ability to use it. He was very good at inspiring people, particularly younger and more impressionable developers. He thought laterally rather than literally, metaphorically rather than functionally. Every conversation you’d have with him about one of his games focused on experiences, moments, possibilities, emotional pay offs, and other high–point ideals. He would combine those ideals to form an exciting story for what a game might be, often road testing a certain phrase or image with you before using it with the press. This, I gather, is not unlike the way Steve Jobs seems to have been.
However Molyneux struggled with consistency. He often couldn’t reconcile conflicting ideas no matter how many ways a team explained their problems to him, responding by trying to sell them all the harder, and if that didn’t work becoming emotional. Being questioned about details seemed to irritate him immensely, as though doing so compromised his dreams. Molyneux would also get fixated. In one example he had an idea for our business sim game (The Movies) to remove all cash meters because he felt numeric progress shouldn’t matter even though all the gameplay was based around generating profits. It would take weeks or months for commonsense to prevail in these situations, often leaving senior management feeling at their wits end.
His dual nature led Molyneux’s teams to treat him with kid gloves. They needed him to sell big visions and keep the press excited, but dreaded the day he’d turn up to get involved. In hindsight – and I choose these words carefully – subsequently learning that he’s dyslexic sort of put this in context. Dyslexics are often brilliant, but the multi-webbed way in which they think can make it hard for them to be understood, and some of them tend to react emotionally when they’re not. Looking back (and I don’t necessarily offer this as an apology) I think a lot of that held true in Molyneux’s case. He could be supremely inspiring, which is why many of the people around him were so loyal, but had a magpie brain that often undermined his intent. He was well suited to those verdant mid-90s days when there was room to experiment, be fun for the press and eventually stumble onto an idea that shone. But as games became more expensive to develop and the industry more corporate, I personally believe he struggled.
The week that I left Lionhead was coincidentally the week that the studio was sold to Microsoft. This, it seems to me in retrospect, was also when the Molyneux story stalled. While he had made some promises for both Black and White and Fable that never came to pass (later mea-culpa’d and accepted by the press as overeager-Peter-is-overeager) post-Microsoft Lionhead didn’t have the same ambitious aura. It had one solid franchise in Fable, but also an infamous project named Milo and Kate. A Kinect-powered adventure featuring an supposedly-real AI character with whom you could talk and play, it made many waves at places like TED. And yet it never went anywhere, never even seeing the light of day.