Towering trouble a litrp.., p.1
Towering Trouble: A LitRPG Isekai, page 1
Towering Trouble:
A LitRPG Isekai
Lin Taylor
Table of contents
Book 1, Chapter 1: Threads
Book 1, Chapter 2: Trolled
Book 1, Chapter 3: Pincushion
Book 1, Chapter 4: Telegraphing
Book 1, Chapter 5: Home
Book 1, Chapter 6: Greenhand
Book 1, Chapter 7: Adorribles
Book 1, Chapter 8: Alchemy
Book 1, Chapter 9: Ruhildi
Book 1, Chapter 10: Necrourgist
Book 1, Chapter 11: Oracles
Book 1, Chapter 12: Skellingtons
Book 1, Chapter 13: Demon
Book 1, Chapter 14: Chosen
Book 1, Chapter 15: Descent
Book 1, Chapter 16: Arborcaede
Book 1, Chapter 17: Arbordeus
Book 1, Chapter 18: Trowbane
End of Book 1: Character Survey
Book 2, Chapter 1: Disarmed
Book 2, Chapter 2: Questions
Book 2, Chapter 3: Hollow
Book 2, Chapter 4: Worms
Book 2, Chapter 5: Saskia
Book 2, Chapter 6: Split
Book 2, Chapter 7: Focus
Book 2, Chapter 8: Killer
Book 2, Chapter 9: Shapers
Book 2, Chapter 10: Underneath
Book 2, Chapter 11: Fork
Book 2, Chapter 12: Pit
Book 2, Chapter 13: Vindica
Book 2, Chapter 14: Bastion
Book 2, Chapter 15: Funnelling
Book 2, Chapter 16: Screaming
Book 2, Chapter 17: Coming
Book 2, Chapter 18: Gathering
Book 2, Chapter 19: Fallback
Book 2, Chapter 20: Inferno
Book 2, Chapter 21: Vassal
Book 2, Chapter 22: Shattered
Book 2, Chapter 23: Icing
Book 2, Chapter 24: Yona
End of Book 2: Character Survey
Book 3, Chapter 1: Eraser
Book 3, Chapter 2: Colony
Book 3, Chapter 3: Blow
Book 3, Chapter 4: Tempest
Book 3, Chapter 5: Vortex
Book 3, Chapter 6: EXP
Book 3, Chapter 7: Cloudtop
Book 3, Chapter 8: Fireflower
Book 3, Chapter 9: Essence
Book 3, Chapter 10: Waveriders
Book 3, Chapter 11: Revenant
Book 3, Chapter 12: Choven
Book 3, Chapter 13: Krakura
Book 3, Chapter 14: Princess
Book 3, Chapter 15: Scouring
Book 3, Chapter 16: Lingyawon
Book 3, Chapter 17: Dreams
Book 3, Chapter 18: Assassins
Book 3, Chapter 19: Frost
Book 3, Chapter 20: Queen
Book 3, Chapter 21: Foreigners
Book 3, Chapter 22: Deadlands
Book 3, Chapter 23: Ulugmir
Book 3, Chapter 24: Rift
Book 3, Chapter 25: Render
Book 3, Chapter 26: Strike
End of Book 3: Character Survey
Book 4, Chapter 1: Departures
Book 4, Chapter 2: Rise
Book 4, Chapter 3: Fall
Book 4, Chapter 4: Eternals
Book 4, Chapter 5: Novoretsk
Book 4, Chapter 6: Invaders
Book 4, Chapter 7: Ambiellar
Book 4, Chapter 8: Imperator
Book 4, Chapter 9: Primordial
Book 4, Chapter 10: Unveilers
Book 4, Chapter 11: Eggs
Book 4, Chapter 12: Dougan
Book 4, Chapter 13: Scales
Book 4, Chapter 14: Stand
Book 4, Chapter 15: Firestorm
Book 4, Chapter 16: Unveiled
Book 4, Chapter 17: Abellion
Book 4, Chapter 18: Wings
Book 4, Chapter 19: Sacrifice
Book 4, Chapter 20: Maelstrom
Book 4, Chapter 21: Mortality
Book 4, Chapter 22: Bitter
Book 4, Chapter 23: Bloom
Book 4, Chapter 24: Ixathi
End of Book 4: Character Survey
Book 1, Chapter 1: Threads
Water poured down the rocks in rivulets, splashing onto her face and running down the back of her neck. The wall had become a waterfall, slick and perilous. It was a struggle just to maintain her grip on the wet stone. Until the deluge passed, she was stuck.
There came a deep rumbling sound, like thunder, but it kept rolling and rolling.
And then she saw it. A great churning maelstrom swept down the cliff face toward her, bringing mud and boulders and death.
Frantically, she sought the shelter of a nearby crevice, just across from the slab to which she clung. Abandoning all thoughts of caution, she leapt.
She almost made it.
The wave hit like a battering ram, sending her tumbling; tumbling into the abyss.
Caught in the whirling, pounding vortex, eyes squeezed shut, she could no longer tell which way was up and which was down. She only knew that down was her destination. Down was shattered bones and twisted limbs; brains splashed across jagged rocks. Down was slow suffocation beneath a crushing mass of mud, stone and debris.
Down was…any moment now…
It occurred to her that this would be a suitable time to be afraid. She was not. She was at peace. If this was the end, so be it.
But she kept falling, and the end didn’t come.
When she finally opened her eyes, her world had become calm and quiet. It was a dark place. A deep place, surrounded by murky water. Far below, there was a glimmer of light; a beacon shining in the dark.
Behind her flailed a tangle of fleshy vines, gently tugging her down toward the light. They pulled at her elbows and knees and spine, like puppet strings. She couldn’t tell where her flesh ended and the vines began.
Further below, the tentacle-vines coiled together, forming a thick rope. There were other ropes twisting about in the water. Attached to them were the silhouettes of her fellow passengers. Some like herself; others quite different. All hung limply, peaceful in repose.
As she sank into the warm depths, the light below grew nearer. And behind the light, the shadowy form of a vast winged creature, prowling the deep.
One of the other figures drifted close—almost close enough to touch. She caught a glimpse of a face; eyes closed. Asleep or dead, she couldn’t tell.
It was her own face.
Saskia Wendle jerked awake in a tangle of sodden sheets. There was a pressure around her skull, and her throat burned, reminding her that all was not well in Wendleville.
Groaning, she looked at her phone. 6:43 a.m. Much earlier than she normally got up, but she knew she wouldn’t be getting any more sleep this morning. Might as well make the most of it.
Pulling out her sketchpad and pencil from the bedside cabinet, she drew a sketch of the winged leviathan, the tentacle-vines and the people attached to them. As always, her dream had been hazy on the details, but she filled them in as best she could.
Saskia had been having variations of the same dream ever since the accident. In a strange parallel to the creative process, the dream had acquired a life of its own, twisting and evolving piece by piece, until it bore little resemblance to the events that inspired it. Her subconscious had clearly been hard at work.
In reality, there had been no landslide; no sinking into the ocean. And certainly no tentacles or winged creature or sleeping doppelgängers. There had been a fall, but she had no recollection of what it had felt like to tumble off a cliff. All she remembered was the hospital bed, and the slow, tedious, agonising recovery.
Done with the sketch, she shuffled blearily to the bathroom, wincing as a tendril of pain wriggled through her brain. Mornings were the worst.
Still not getting any prettier, she thought, eyeing her scars in the mirror. She ran her finger down the ragged strip of scaly tissue on her neck. It skirted the line between itchy and painful. Must have been scratching it in her sleep.
Saskia went through her morning routine on autopilot, only coming to her senses when she emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, and heard her mother speaking.
“What?” croaked Saskia, her sleep-deprived brain belatedly remembering how to English.
“I said I saw your light on. You were up early.” Alice Wendle’s face crinkled with concern. “Are you okay?”
“Had another dream I needed to get onto paper,” said Saskia. “Ugh, I feel like crap, actually.”
“Language, Sass.” Her mother spoke reflexively, as if Saskia was still a child, and not a 23-year-old who was free to use any frocking words she wanted to, dogramit! Alice touched her hand to Saskia’s forehead. “Are you going to call in sick?”
“No, it’s just a bit of a flare-up,” said Saskia. “I’ve had worse. And I can’t take any more time off. Too much to do. Big demo coming up at the end of the month.”
“I wish you wouldn’t push yourself so hard,” said her mum. “It’s only been a couple of years since…well, you know. They may be your friends, but they don’t pay overtime. You shouldn’t be working such long hours.”
“Hey, this job is the one bright spot in my life right now,” insisted Saskia. “Don’t knock it. Long hours and low pay are the trade-off for doing what we love, instead of…I don’t know…working for a bank or something.”
“Believe it or not, I actually enjoy my work too,” said Alice, who was a bank manager.
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Her mum laughed. “Well maybe I am at that. But need I remind whose ‘boring’ career paid for the university education you dropped out of. Who covered your medical bills and cared for you. And who’s giving you free board, so you can afford to earn a pittance doing what you love.”
Saskia sighed. Her mother was playing the guilt card. That card was so overpowered. “I don’t actually think you’re boring, Mum. That was just me being, well, me. Anyhow, uh, gotta go!” She headed for the front door.
“Sass, I think you’re forgetting something…”
Saskia looked down at her skinny, towel-wrapped figure. “Right. Gotta get dressed and then go!”
It was a twenty-minute bicycle ride to work. Saskia’s neurologist still hadn’t given her the all-clear to drive. Apparently her seizures would be a risk to public safety if she were allowed behind a wheel. But if she blacked out on a bike, she’d probably only endanger herself. It gave her no small sense of pride that she was now able to ride such distances. A year and a half ago, she’d struggled to take a few small steps to the bathroom.
Today though, it took considerable effort just to ride in a straight line. Perhaps she should have just taken the day off.
Saskia was the first to arrive at the studio this morning. She used the term ‘studio’ loosely. It was actually a renovated basement beneath the Bare Assentials gentleman’s club. Not the best place to be seen entering and leaving each day, but the rent was cheap.
And for Threadless Studios, being cheap was all-important. As a self-funded independent game development studio that had yet to release their first title, they couldn’t waste money on a comfortable office in a good location.
The company consisted of three friends from university: Raji Kumar, Dave Winfield and Fergus Buchanan. And Saskia herself, who came to the party late, after she’d recovered enough to be able to work. Her condition had forced her to ‘take a break’ from her final year. Afterward, she could have gone back to finish her fine arts degree, but their offer had been too tempting to refuse. A real job and real experience in exactly the field she wanted to work in, even if the pay was lousy, had seemed far more appealing than a piece of paper with her name on it. As an added bonus, she got to tell her mum she was dropping out of university to work in a strip club.
The company’s first title was Threads of Nautilum, an action role-playing game set in a fantasy kingdom. The guys had been working on it for a year and a half, beginning before they even completed their degrees. Saskia had been with them for a year. Raji estimated they were still at least six months out from completion, so she fully expected to be working on it for at least the next two years, if the company didn’t go belly-up before then. Game development almost never went according to schedule, even for veteran teams. Which Threadless Studios most certainly were not.
The three guys were all programmers, although they juggled various roles at Threadless. Raji, who had made a fair bit of cash from an app he developed while at university, supplied the startup capital, and paid the rest of them their salaries. He was their AI programmer, creative lead and frontman for the company. In the traditional corporate world, he’d be called a CEO, but everyone laughed at him whenever he brought it up. Dave was the level designer, tools programmer, lead tester and curmudgeon. If someone came up with an amazing idea, he’d be the one to shoot it down with an unerring bolt of reality. Fergus was the writer, sound designer, and also a quarter-decent amateur composer. He’d created a placeholder soundtrack for the game. If they could afford to hire a professional composer closer to release, they would. Otherwise, his efforts would have to do.
Saskia was no programmer. To Saskia, C++ was an unusual bra size, and a terminal belonged in an airport, or formed part of a sentence she never wanted to hear from a doctor. She was the studio’s artist, animator, and user interface designer. She created the concept art for characters and locations, constructed three-dimensional models, and made them move about realistically and interact with the game’s physics engine. The layout and visual flavour of the various menus, status bars, journals and other screen overlays were also her handiwork. Occasionally one of the guys would ask her to fetch him a coffee, whereupon she would tell him to bog off and make it himself.
Speaking of coffee, the first thing Saskia did upon reaching the office this morning was serve herself a drink from their top-of-the-line coffee machine—the one thing not even this tiny indie studio would skimp on.
Today’s task was simple. She needed to touch up the low-detail versions of the game’s character models that would be featured in the upcoming demo. She’d already completed the most detailed models with the maximum number of polygons and high-resolution textures, but the task didn’t end there. The game needed to support a range of detail levels, in order to look good on high-end gaming PCs, while still being able to run smoothly on low-end laptops and game consoles. Also, the game swapped out the models at various distances, so it didn’t waste resources rendering high-detail models that were too far away for the player to notice the difference.
The models in question were characters of various archetypal fantasy races, such as elves, dwarves, orcs, trolls and hobbits (or rather, halflings—they didn’t want to get sued by Tolkien's estate) with a few slightly more original races such as the bat-like chiron thrown in for flavour. Saskia wasn’t exactly in love with this rather generic cast of characters, but she tried to put her own spin on each one. Her elves were scruffy, with unkempt hair and bad teeth, and were often covered in dirt. They lived in trees and didn’t have time for personal grooming. Her dwarves had carefully manicured beards and pranced around in fine silks, bought with all that gold they dug out of the mountain.
Polishing the low-polygon models was a relatively mindless task, requiring little creativity or problem-solving. Just a good knowledge of the tools. This was probably for the best. It felt like a worm was nesting inside her skull. And her thoughts kept wandering back to her dream.
She pulled out the sketch she’d made earlier that morning, and a few others she’d drawn previously. Mulling them over while she worked, an idea took hold. Perhaps she could find a way to use it…
Dave was the first of the guys to arrive, at the early hour of 10:03 a.m. Her friends, and indeed, Saskia herself, were typically not ‘morning people.’ They showed up when they showed up, and they stayed late. Really late. Sometimes they never left, and she arrived the next morning to find them drooling over their keyboards.
Later that morning, Raji stopped by her desk, eyeing her sketches. “I haven’t seen this before. New concept?”
“Oh that? It’s from this dream I keep having. Thought we could try and use it as a monster in the game. You see those tentacle-vine things? They come out of the water and latch onto its victims, controlling them like puppets.”
Raji looked at her for a long moment. “You have fucked up dreams, you know that?”
Saskia nodded. “Yeah, I’m pretty weird.”
“I like the idea though,” said Raji. “I was thinking about a scene where the players would have to fight their companions. This could be an interesting spin on that. There’d be quite a bit of physics and AI work getting those tentacles behaving properly. What do you think, Dave?”
“I think we should get the demo ready, and stop adding new features at the last minute,” said Dave, without looking up from his workstation.
“Yeah, fuck you too, Dave,” said Raji.
“Any time,” said Dave.
“He does have a point though,” said Raji. “Perhaps we should revisit this next month, once we’re out of crunch mode.” He went back to his desk.
Saskia raised her eyebrows. “There’s a mode other than crunch mode? How do I unlock it?”
“By dying,” said Dave.
“Nope, doesn’t work,” said Saskia. “Already tried.”
The room filled with an awkward silence. Saskia was the queen of awkward silences. She turned back to her work.
Later, Saskia, Raji and Fergus, who had finally deigned to show up, headed to a nearby cafe for lunch. Dave, who was absorbed in debugging a particularly tricky piece of code, ate at his desk.
“So I need to record a bunch of combat sounds—grunts, shouts, death screams, etcetera,” Fergus was saying around a mouthful of pad Thai. “Right now we’re mostly using stock sounds for these, but we can’t keep using them in the demo, because we kinda-sorta…pirated them. I think I’ve got most of the male voices sorted. Bunch of friends volunteered, including Raji. But I’m short on female volunteers, because, sadly, my wider circle of friends is basically a giant sausage fest…”
