TechScape: They used my identity to flog a doomed cryptocurrency – and then things got weird

On Monday morning I woke up to a pair of odd DMs on Twitter. "Sir, Greetings, Do you have any information about Dejitaru Tsuka token," asked one "Dr. Joker"; another had a similar question: "Yo dude what do you know about Tsuka."

I'd not heard about the cryptocurrency, and a quick scan suggested it wasn't worth my time: it was a classic "shitcoin", a newly created token with no reason for existence beyond buying low and selling high.

Gambling on shitcoins takes the subtext of much of the crypto space and turns it into the entire purpose. There is no pretence, here, of anyone banking on widespread use, or of the coins having a purpose. The game is to find one that will go up, buy it cheap, push it as hard as you can to others, and then cash out at the top. The community takes phrases usually associated with financial crime - "shilling", "pump and dump", and so on - and wears them like a badge of honour.

Tsuka was a classic of the form. The only explanation on the public web for the token was some mangled English describing a Japanese legend that destines "the dejitaru tsūka dragon to breathe vast flames of wisdom and prosperity to all who embrace its ferocity and strength" linking, of course, to some exchanges where you could buy the coin.

So I assumed the DMs were the "pump" phase of pump and dump, and ignored them. But then I got a follow-up message, asking me if I was behind an email address "hernalex@proton.me", that the developer of the Tsuka coin had posted on to the blockchain, with the note "encrypted Guardian contact". One buyer had emailed the address, and, thinking they were speaking to me, asked if they knew anything about the coin. A one-word reply, "Yes", helped push a buying frenzy - of sorts.

The numbers are low: before my name was used to promote the coin, it was trading at eight thousandths of a cent (that's $.00008), and after a massive rally it had reached the dizzying high of almost twice that, $.00015. But that still represented around $100,000 of notional value built on a lie.

But I had to try to correct the falsehood. I managed to find the main community channel for Tsuka, on Telegram, and joined its membership of 150 or so users before posting a quick message: "I've got nothing to do with this project. Someone is pretending to be me." But I wasn't able to see the response - I was swiftly kicked from the group, and my post was deleted.