What you might not know is that I got a bit of a slapped wrist for that article, because I cast a light, of sorts, on the confidential deliberation process. I was asked - very nicely - to edit out some of the more salacious details, like the drug-taking and knife fights and partial nudity.
Suffice to say, I wasn't invited back this year. I was, however, asked to be a judge on the most recent BAFTA Children's Awards, for some reason. Clearly, the Children's Awards and the Games Awards need to start sharing databases over which of their judges might be an indelicate nark...
But anyway. You're probably aware that last night saw the 2016 BAFTA Games Awards, hosted by whatsisname. Click through for the full list of winners, and me telling you why it's all so completely pointless, and why I'm a godawful narcissist.
Here they are then. Here's that list of games which won big at the 2016 BAFTA Games Awards:
Best game: Fallout 4 (Bethesda Game Studios)
British game: Batman: Arkham Knight (Rocksteady Studios)
Debut game: Her Story (Sam Barlow)
Story: Life Is Strange (Dontnod Entertainment)
Performer: Everybody's Gone to the Rapture (Merle Dandridge)
Artistic achievement: Ori and the Blind Forest (Moon Studios)
Audio achievement: Everybody's Gone to the Rapture (The Chinese Room)
Family game: Rocket League (Psyonix)
Game design: Bloodborne (FromSoftware)
Game innovation: Her Story (Sam Barlow)
Mobile and handheld game: Her Story (Sam Barlow)
Multiplayer game: Rocket League (Psyonix)
Music: Everybody's Gone to the Rapture (The Chinese Room)
Original property: Until Dawn (Supermassive Games)
Persistent game: Prison Architect (Introversion Software)
Sport game: Rocket League (Psyonix)
Ones to watch: Sundown (Mild Beast Games)
eSports audience award: Smite (Hi-Rez Studios)
BAFTA fellowship: John Carmack
What do you make of that list? Like me, you possibly agree with some of it, and possibly disagree with some of it. You might even be angry and outraged by the results.
I mean, I wouldn't have given Fallout 4 Best Game, or Best British Game to Arkham Knight.
And some of the categories - sport game, for instance - I'm not even qualified to comment on.
You may also, potentially, wonder whether the voting was political and rigged... which is what I often hear when it comes to people discussing awards.
Speaking as a two-time BAFTA judge, I can tell you that as far as each of the individual voting panels goes, the process is sincere and open - when it comes to voting on the games the panel is presented with, at least. Prior to that, the wider BAFTA membership gets to vote, which whittles down the selections. So, individually... there's nothing political about the way BAFTA does its voting. In a broader sense, the meaning of the awards is entirely political, and - in a broader sense still - utterly pointless.
I was honoured to be asked to be a judge, both times I've done it. It was a unique and cool experience, it's an interesting process to be a part of - I do like a debate - and genuinely fun. I also got to meet some fascinating people.
Now... what I'm about to say risks coming across like a humblebrag, but I'll try to be as honest as I can about it. I've been nominated for a few awards in my time. And I've won a few - indeed, I've got one of my BAFTA nominations framed and on the wall in my hallway, and I've got my Royal Television Society Award on my mantlepiece (albeit mostly hidden behind a mirror and a plant).
I think in a broad context, awards are pointless. All they are, ultimately, is a gift for marketing. If they're won by an individual, it's potentially useful for getting more work. If they're won by a game or a company, they can be slapped on a product to help it sell. It's good publicity. That's all. We all have our favourite game, or TV show, or movie, or album, and it's never going to necessarily tally with what an awards panel tells us.
So why do I keep my awards on semi-display, if I'm so blasé about it all?
I should state that I find awards ceremonies pretty dull and awkward. You've got to hope you're sat next to someone you know, and if you're not it's basically small talk all night. I always feel out of my depth when pretending to be a grown-up in those sorts of formal situations.
Consequently, I've become a fairly unsociable person as I've gotten older. Or, rather, more selective in my socialising.
My main consideration when I do anything these days is how tired and/or hungover and/or bored will it make me? I'd much rather sit in a pub drinking Diet Coke, and shoot the breeze with mates, rather than have a forced, wine-fuelled, conversation with someone who's nervous at the potential prospect of having to get up on stage and give a speech... or depressed because they didn't win.
Plus, conversations with creative people are always "What have you worked on? What are you working on next?". People watching their backs. Digging for opportunities, or looking for threats.
What's more, I'm terrible at networking - it's insincere and unsatisfying, and I need sincerity and honesty. I'm no good when trying to engage with someone who's wearing a disguise. When my attempts at trying to connect just bounce off the facade. It's telling that the BAFTA award is a golden mask, and the Oscar is a blank-faced golden figure. That's what everyone there is having to be. Or feels they have to be. Vulnerabilities are hidden away behind business faces and nice outfits.
Also, if you're a nominee at these things you're presented with a choice of either having to put on a brave face because you've lost - whatever the awards mean to you personally, winning is still the preferable option on the night - or humbling it up to the losers.
At the RTS Awards last year, I was sat on a table with the team behind the brilliant kids show Katie Morag - lovely, genuine people, all of them - but both our shows were nominated, and only one of was going to win.
Either outcome was going to be awkward... and it was. Likewise, a friend of mine was nominated in the same category, and you can bet we'd both been practicing our good loser expressions in the mirror before we left. He sent me a lovely congratulatory text, but it's telling that I never saw him again that night. Which was a relief for both of us, frankly.
The awards I've won have never seemed to get me any work. The ceremonies have never gotten me any work. And I find the awards meaningless. So... why put the award up in my house?
I don't condemn anyone for whom awards mean something. If they're a validation of who you are, then ok.
Things that really matter to me are my family, my kids, my friends, my relationship, my experiences. Digitiser.
I'd rather the people I love tell me I'm a good person, than own a certificate telling me I'd done a good telly show. But that's me. We're all different.
But still. Work is an important part of my life, and awards/nominations are a solid, physical, validation of how much effort I've put into my career. They're a pat on the head, basically. I mean, I'd still rather have had the fifty quid, but a plastic statue is better than nothing.
More than that, though, they're about showing off. I'm not above that. Not everybody gets to work in a job that gives out awards - but such is the narcissistic thrust of the creative industries. I know that working as a writer is a job that many people see as desirable. I know I have friends who are jealous of what I do for a living (even if the reality is that being a writer is a terribly insecure and bruising career, and I have to work far harder than I've done in any other job I've had).
And I understand that.
A mate of mine, who I've never felt any envy towards previously, was recently nominated for an Oscar - yeah, I know... that's as surreal to me as it probably sounds to you - and for the first time ever, I'm ashamed to say, I felt jealous of his career. It happens, and though I might try to suppress that feeling, emotions bubble up whether we want them to or not.
Part of that is perhaps because working in a creative industry is seen as glamorous (and my mate getting to go to the Oscars was an experience that I perceived as glamorous). And I suppose it is glamorous to you if you're impressed by sitting at a table next to Les Dennis or Mr Tumble (just as him getting to sit near Leonardo seemed glamorous to me). But day to day there's nothing remotely glamorous or thrilling about what I do, and I expect that's the same for everyone who was nominated in the BAFTA Games Awards.
I suppose having a certificate and an award up in my house - even if I tend to forget they're there - is the closest I get to bringing that perceived glamour home. It's the one chance I have to slightly bask in that, even if it risks the jealousy of others, or alienates me.
THE SEARCH FOR MEANING
Ultimately, if I take any meaning from awards, that's what they mean to me. It's validation for the hard work, and it's being able to say to myself... "Yeah... alright - they've got reason to be jealous, because... well... I've got one of those things - aren't I clever?"
And despite that, I know that it really means nothing. I know it doesn't make me better than anyone else. That it was just some people in a room, on a particular day, deciding that a particular thing I wrote, was objectively better than other things that they were asked to consider that day.
The purpose and meaning of awards, be they Oscars, TV awards, kids TV show awards, or video game awards, can only really be judged by the people who do or do not receive them.
Beyond that, they're not newsworthy. They don't matter. We've just been told they matter. It has been drummed into us since birth - we're a society that believes in entitlement and validation. That a shiny thing - which you can't eat or plant or use as a buoyancy aid - means something. It only means something because the media has placed a value on it. Awards don't grow on trees. Society has created them - they're one step removed from being a carrot on a stick.
If you disagree with the results of the BAFTA Games Awards, and you probably disagree with some of them... don't worry about it. That doesn't make you wrong, any more than it makes the awards wrong. They're a thing that can be comfortably ignored. Let them have their moment. Enjoy your own best game. When the apocalypse comes those awards are going to be useless, and the writers and the game designers are going to be the first ones to be eaten.
I'm probably overthinking it. I usually do.