Bitter: Book One: Bitter, #1

By V. Moody

VRMMORPG has arrived, along with: bugs, exploits, OP classes, over the top nerfs, p2w, ridiculous RNG, lockboxes, raging players, broken mechanics, limited bag space, tedious crafting... and then there are the goblins and ogres.

Bitter is a daily online serial, an ongoing story available to read on the web. A slice-of-life tale about a 16 year old schoolgirl who finds her life is not what she wanted, so she gets another one.

This book collects the first one hundred chapters in an edited form.

• Language: English
• Publisher: V Moody
• Release date: Dec 13, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386592945

Book preview

Bitter

Book One

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by

V  Moody

Cover by jcalebdesign.com

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Copyright: V Moody 2017

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the author.

PREFACE

Bitter is an online serial available on MoodyLit.com where it is free to read. Chapters are released daily, Monday through Friday, and there are currently five hundred chapters up.

This book is a collection of the first one hundred chapters in an edited and revised form. Books are released every one hundred chapters, with a gap of around four months.

You can read the raw chapters as they are posted online, or the tidied up version in eBook form. Some readers like to get a daily dose on their commute to work, others would rather wait and read it in larger chunks. Some people prefer to read it after the typos have been removed (well, most of them).

The story will always be free and donations are never solicited, but my thanks to those who buy the books as a way to support my efforts, and also to the people who join my Patreon.

I have a number of other stories, all free, on my site. Please check them out.

If you like this story, do leave a review or rating on Goodreads, it makes a big difference to an indie author.

V. Moody

How to Avoid Death on a Daily Basis

The Good Student

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter One

But why were you fired? Britta asked Dad across the dinner table.

I wasn’t fired, I was let go, said Dad very calmly. Almost like he’d rehearsed it. He put his knife and fork down parallel to each other on the empty plate. Then he readjusted them to make sure they were even more parallel.

Britta knew him too well to not spot the obvious signs. Okay, why were you let go?

It’s complicated, her father said. They’re restructuring and they had to let some people go. I was just unlucky.

Unlucky because you were caught doing something you shouldn’t have been doing?

Britta, said Mum with a sharp look thrown in. Don’t badger your father. I’m sure if there was anything more to it, he would tell us. Her look moved over to Dad and got chillier.

Britta’s dad worked for Anderson Peters Electronics. Or at least he used to.

APE was one of those companies that if you’d bought shares in them back when they were a small company indistinguishable from all the other small tech startups, you would now be very well off.

Britta’s family wasn’t very well off. Her dad had worked in a fairly low position. No stocks or shares for him. And now, no job either.

It didn’t make sense. Why would they get rid of people when they were the fastest growing company in the world? Her dad must have done something.

But that didn’t make sense either. If he had broken some rule or screwed up on the job, then why had they given him one of their brand new VR pods as severance pay? You don’t hand over a machine that cost more than a luxury car to someone you just let go; especially if the reason you let them go was because they’d been fired.

You should’ve taken the money, said Mum, stabbing her fluffy potatoes unnecessarily. The stupid thing takes up the whole of the living room.

The pod was between the sofa and the television, like an enormous coffee table. It didn’t match the curtains or the upholstery.

I’m telling you, said Dad, that ‘stupid thing’ will make us more money than a lifetime of working a regular job.

Yes, said Mum, if we sell it.

Can’t. Not legally. If we don’t want it, we have to send it back.

Britta had no idea how a glorified games console would make them money. It was the product that had made APE famous — a full-immersion virtual reality conduit that put you in the game, literally. It didn’t use special glasses or a headset; you had to climb into the machine and lie there while your brain was transported into a new world.

Can I have a go? asked Britta.

No, sweetie, it isn’t a toy. It’s a very advanced piece of tech and I’ll be using it to make us rich. Just you wait and see.

Mum didn’t look convinced. She pressed her fork down hard on the mash so it squeezed up through the tines.

Sitting down together for dinner was something they’d only recently started doing. When Britta’s sister, Marisa, moved out to go to university, Mum decided they needed to spend more quality time together.

Her parents were a modern couple, which meant they had nothing in common and argued a lot. They both worked (until today) and shared the household stuff like cooking, although not cleaning. They had a Syrian woman who came in to do that twice a week. They weren’t well off, but they could afford a widowed refugee with three kids to feed.

And how long will it take you to make us all rich? Mum pressed down her fork, although how torturing the mash would get her an answer, Britta had no idea.

I’ve got homework, said Britta. She left the table and put her plate in the kitchen, which was really just the other half of the dining room. She passed the living room on her way to the stairs and popped her head in. The pod looked like a shiny, space-age coffin.

They were still bickering In the dining room. Very quietly, very politely.

Dad was a nerd. He was a grown man who thought being a professional gamer was cool,  like being a rockstar. Britta shook her head. He would never be cool. And she was his daughter, so she’d never be cool either. She knew it only too well.

Britta went upstairs. She’d already done her homework — she’d finished it at school during lunch — so she started on next week’s. She wasn’t a very popular girl. She had a small group she hung with, and they weren’t popular, either. Rashida was her closest friend and her parents were very religious, so they couldn’t socialise outside of school.

If there was gossip going around, or some scandal, the only way Britta would hear about it was by eavesdropping on other people’s conversations. Which she was quite good at.

The following morning, Britta sat at the front in Miss Cumber’s class pretending to be looking for something in her text book. A group of boys were huddled around a phone, making noises like monkeys under a banana tree. They were talking about a video game. It was usually either a new game or pornographic pictures of someone famous that got them excited. Occasionally it was a car.

This game was unlike any other, according to them. And it was being released exclusively for the APE pod.

It was the mention of the pod that caught Britta’s attention.

I’m getting one for Christmas, said one of the boys.

You any idea how much they cost? Where’s your dad gonna find that kind of cheddar? Cash Converters?

They gonna release a budget version. They always do. Bundle it with the game, innit?

That’s what I heard, too. No point releasing an MMORPG and making it too expensive for anyone to buy the thing. There’ll be no one to play it. They’ll have to call it an ORPG. I’m telling you, budget version for Christmas. Black Friday, even.

Unless they give it away for free, your skint arse ain’t getting shit.

Britta felt like turning around and saying, I’ve got one of those at home. She didn’t.

They’d probably call her a liar. She certainly wouldn’t be able to answer any questions they had. And even if they believed her, once they found out she wasn’t allowed to use it, they wouldn’t be very impressed. Not that she wanted to impress them.

The rest of the day she kept overhearing people talking about the new game. She wondered if that’s how Dad planned to make money. She knew what an MMORPG was and how rabid people could be when it came to playing them. In-game items sometimes even sold for real money!

It didn’t matter if the items didn’t actually exist. The value was based on demand, and if nerds wanted to buy ones and zeros for ridiculous amounts, that’s what they were worth. Maybe Dad knew what he was doing after all, unlikely as that seemed.

When she got home that evening, there was a strange humming sound coming from the living room. The door was closed. She slowly eased it open enough to be able to get her head through the gap.

The pod was glowing. It was grey and blue, and the blue parts were pulsing with light. She stared at it for a few seconds, but she was looking at a big, glowing box. It wasn’t very thrilling.

Her father, drenched in sweat and bleary-eyed, emerged later that night. Just in time for the family meal.

You stink, said Mum.

He sniffed his armpits and grinned. Yeah. I do.

She insisted he take a shower before eating and for once he didn’t argue with her. He really didn’t smell good.

If they really did release a budget version of the pod, thought Britta, sales of deodorant would go through the roof.

Other than Dad disappearing into the pod every morning and emerging the following evening, life continued as normal. Relatively.

He didn’t say what he was doing in there, didn’t have war stories to tell, gave no indication what the game was like. Britta didn’t press him on the matter because she wasn’t particularly interested. She had a desktop computer in her room and occasionally played games on it to pass the time. They were of limited interest.

She could see how people got obsessed with them, but only in the way you could get obsessed with scrunching up sheets of paper and lobbing them into a bin on the other side of the room. Mindless, repetitive actions soothed people who had nothing better to do. Video games were another version of catching a ball in a cup.

Her Dad had bought every games console ever made. She had played them since she was a toddler, and found them boring. The prettier the graphics, the more on rails they tended to be. They gave you the illusion of choice, but in reality they were tightly scripted and led you by the nose from here to there. Find a key, open a door, fight a monster with terrible AI, get a reward. Repeat.

Look at Mr Scumbag over there, whispered Rashida in third period geography. He’s using his phone.

Rashida was referring to Nick Newman who was sitting in his chair sideways with his back against the wall. He had his phone out, which wasn’t allowed, but the teacher pretended not to notice. Nick was one of those kids who could get away with whatever they wanted.

He wants people to think he’s cool because he’s texting during class, said Rashida, but really he just wants to look at his reflection in the phone screen. Prat.

Rashida, for all her serious religious beliefs, had a potty mouth and a very low opinion of just about everyone. Being judgmental when God was on your side seemed almost like a prerequisite.

Maybe he’s texting dick pics to someone. Britta was quite judgemental herself, but she always sounded like she was defending people when she was talking to Rashida, even when she wasn’t.

More like receiving dick pics, said Rashida. Closeted homosexual. You don’t dye your hair that colour if you’re straight.

Nick had platinum white hair which was clearly dyed but Britta wasn’t sure that made him gay. A bit of a ponce, maybe.

By the end of the lesson, Rashida had fabricated a whole fantasy life for Nick involving rentboys and sugar-daddies. Her repressed social life meant she had an overactive imagination when it came to what she thought other people were doing in the free time denied to her. It was never surfing the web and going to the movies. Depravity was on everyone’s itinerary, as far as she was concerned.

Check out Lewis the Loser, said Rashida out of the side of her mouth as they packed up their bags.

Britta looked over in the corner where Lewis sat, another unpopular kid but a proper one with no friends at all. He was focused on his phone, which was an older, uncool model no one else would be seen dead with.

Yeah? said Britta, not seeing anything special.

He’s watching smut on his phone. See how his hands are moving about in his pocket? He’s jerking it.

The idea a boy would masturbate in class amused Britta. It should have disgusted her, and if it were true it probably would, but the sheer audacity of doing it so publicly was actually funny.

Hey, Lewis, Britta called over. Are you watching porn on your phone?

He looked up, his face registering shock. What? No! His face reddened.

Britta liked the reaction. It made him look guilty, which would only fluster him more. You shouldn’t do that with your hand then.

He immediately yanked his hand out of his pocket. There were only a few people left in class, but they all laughed.

Lewis got up and stuffed everything into his bag and stormed towards the door, then stopped and turned to face Britta.

He was a tall, skinny boy with a zitty face. He towered over Britta, but it didn’t intimidate her. He shoved his phone in her face. It was the APE website. He had been drooling over the unobtainable — not all that different from porn.

You know, girls who make fun of boys do it for attention, he said, stammering. Because they’re gagging for it and can’t think how else to get noticed.

It was a valiant attempt at trying to turn the tables on her, but he had no chance.

Where did you read that? Rapist.com?

Lewis’ face went from red to purple.

Screw you, Britta. He practically ran out of the room.

That was a bit harsh, said Rashida with her hand covering her mouth to stifle her giggles.

If Rashida thought she had gone too far she probably shouldn’t have said it, but it was only playful teasing. It wasn’t like she meant it.

Britta bussed to and from school. The kids from her school took over the upper deck. She sat downstairs. When the bus was packed, she would have to stand, usually with someone’s armpit in her face. It was only a twenty minute ride, but it could be quite claustrophobic.

She was squeezed into the corner by the rear doors when she heard a familiar voice.

They released some in-game footage. Look at this. And this isn’t even how you would see it if you were in the game. It was Lewis’ voice.

Pretty sweet. Your dad really going to buy one? said another boy. She couldn’t see them through the bodies and she didn’t recognise the voice. Britta’s curiosity was piqued. Lewis didn’t have any friends.

Yeah. He’s just got to convince my mum.

There was a scoffing hmmph. Good luck with that, son.

It’s going to happen. Deffo.

Two idiots fantasising about the Ferrari they’d buy when they won the lottery. Britta stared out of the grimy window at the grey streets under grey clouds.

Hey, Lewis, said another voice. Could he really be this popular? She’d never once seen him talk to anyone at school; then again, it wasn’t like she paid much attention to what he got up to. What was that between you and Britta in class?

Nothing. There was an edge of irritation in his voice now. She just wanted me to slip her the big one.

There was laughter. Britta rolled her eyes.

You should do her, then. Probably only chance you’ll get. Ever.

Numerous voices agreed.

Get lost. She’s too dog-faced.

Do her from behind then!

With that bum? You must be joking.

More laughter. Britta felt like saying something; put them all in their place.

She’s easily the ugliest girl in class.

Class. More like in the school.

If it had been Lewis speaking, she might have written it off as spite, but Lewis wasn’t speaking anymore. She couldn’t see their faces, but she didn’t want to.

The only girl I’d turn down a BJ from.

Haha. Can you imagine what she looks like naked?

Shut up, man. I have to have my tea when I get home.

The jibes continued punctuated with laughter. It sounded like dozens of boys, all ridiculing her looks. Britta’s anger diminished as she felt her whole body shrink and become limp. There was no fight in her.

She was still three stops away from home when she got off the bus. She quickly walked away, head down, before anyone could see her from a window. Hot tears stung her cheeks.

She knew she wasn’t the prettiest girl in school, but she never thought of herself as grotesque. And even if she wasn’t going to win any beauty contests, it didn’t mean no one would ever want to be with her. Plain girls got asked out, too. They got married, had ugly kids. Her own sister was no stunner, and she’d always had a boyfriend.

But Marisa had already had numerous boyfriends by the time she was Britta’s age. No one had even looked at Britta like they might be interested.

When she got home, Dad was still in the pod and Mum was at work. Britta went up to her room and lay on her bed. She told herself she didn’t care, but the tears rolled down each side of her face, filling up her ears, which was annoying.

Eventually, she pulled herself together and went to the bathroom to wash her face. She avoided looking at herself in the mirror over the sink.

She felt a little better, but it was like sitting under a rain cloud trying to convince yourself you weren’t getting wet. The hurt soaked through her.

Dinner was the usual polite sniping. Britta excused herself as soon as she’d finished eating. She hadn’t been hungry, but she’d rather force the food down than stay listening to her parents.

She did her homework and went to bed early. She couldn’t sleep. Around ten o’clock, she heard her parents having sex. Bed squeaking, some panting, the occasional squeal. For two people who got on so poorly, it was amazing how often they did it. Britta stuck her head under the pillow.

Her father’s snoring signalled the end of the night’s activities, and was even more annoying. The walls rattled.

Not even slightly sleepy, Britta went down in the dark to get a glass of water.

She knew she was being stupid. So what if some teenage morons didn’t think she measured up to the plastic porn stars they used as their guide to what made a woman attractive? They could all go to hell.

She paused outside the living room and opened the door. The pod was sitting there, the lid open.

Britta tiptoed into the living room. The sound of her father’s snoring carried through the ceiling, so she knew he wasn’t going to suddenly jump out and catch her, but she still felt like she should make as little noise as possible.

She bumped her way to the pod. It was hard to see with only the streetlight filtering in through the window, so Britta had to use her hands. The inside of the pod was lined with some kind of inflated padding, like bubble wrap. There didn’t seem to be any knobs or buttons. She climbed into it.

If she got caught, she’d be in trouble. Dad wasn’t much of an authoritarian, but there were some things he wouldn’t stand for. Messing with his stuff was top of that list.

You didn’t play with his toys (collectibles) and you didn’t move his dolls (action figures). And you definitely didn’t use his computer (porn, probably).

Britta had no problem leaving his stuff alone, for the most part. His obsessions weren’t very exciting or original, just crap from his youth. This one time, though, she intended to try it for herself. Even if she did get caught, what was he going to do? Ground her? Most of his punishments were from his youth, too. Usually from crappy sitcoms. Not exactly the best place to learn parenting skills.

Mum, on the other hand, wouldn’t care. And she’d also be too busy.

Britta slid into the pod and lay on her back. She’d just have a quick go and see what all the fuss was about. Five minutes, tops. She lay there wondering how to start the thing.

She felt around, but other than the padding there was nothing to push or press. Maybe it was voice activated.

On, whispered Britta. Nothing happened. If it was voice controlled, it could take her all night to figure out the right commands. She sighed. Why couldn’t things be simple and straightforward for once?

It would probably turn out to be a disappointment, in any case. No point getting excited. She pushed herself up to get out and bumped her head on the top of the pod. There was a click and the lid began to descend. It moved slowly and made a soft humming sound. She hoped it wasn’t loud enough to wake her parents. She also hoped it would open the same way, otherwise she’d be stuck in here all night.

There was another, more solid click as the lid closed and she was in darkness.

Please keep your eyes open.

Britta opened her eyes wide, even though she couldn’t see a thing. The voice had been soft and feminine (probably chosen by Dad for less than pure reasons) and almost seemed to be inside her head. Hidden speakers in the lining was the obvious explanation.

A white light appeared above her. Not on the inside of the lid, much further away than that. It was a tiny dot moving towards her.

Please keep your eyes open, the voice repeated.

Britta did her best not to blink. The light got closer. And closer. It didn’t seem to get any bigger though and focusing on it made her feel like she was going cross-eyed.

Please keep your eyes open.

She’d only been in the pod five seconds and she was already bored. If this was cutting edge technology they could at least make it a bit faster.

The light was a few centimetres above her when it darted forward, straight into her eye. She felt a tiny prick and then everything went white.

Blue letters appeared in front of her spelling Yes and No. They weren’t like words on a screen, they were more like fireworks hanging in the sky.

New user. Do you wish to proceed?

She reached out her hand and realised it wasn’t her hand. It felt like her regular hand, but when it came into view, it looked like a prosthetic arm. The sort of arm robots in computer games have. She was in the game.

She pressed the Yes button. She felt the button under her fingers. It was slightly cold and had weight to it as she pushed down.

Please choose character.

A selection of icons appeared in front of her. Lots of them. They continued off to the left and right. The one directly in front of her had a picture of a man on it. When Britta rested her hand on it, the other icons disappeared and a bunch of new ones appeared, filling her vision. Sex, age, height, hair colour, eye colour... they went on and on.

Britta had played enough video games to know what this was. She got to design how she would look, from top to toe. She could make herself look as beautiful as she wanted. Big boobs, pretty face, perfect hair. The idea sickened her. Make yourself everything you weren’t in real life. Live the fantasy. Pathetic.

There were two slightly differently coloured buttons at the bottom. A green one that said Accept and a red one that said Return. She pressed the red one and was back at the character selection screen.

She only wanted to have a look at what the game was like and had no intention wasting hours making the ideal game character. She could have just chosen at random but there was something about choosing what you looked like — what you wanted to look like — that made her uncomfortable. She would much rather be something non-human.

The other choices were predictable. Elf, half-orc, dwarf, hobbit, dragonling, fae... Everytime she swiped her hand, the icons moved and new ones appeared. Half of them she’d never even heard of before. No one else probably had either. Made-up nonsense.

There was one that caught her eye. Gnome. Not a garden gnome with a pointy hat and a fishing rod, this one was a small, ugly creature. An oversized nose, horrible teeth, bulging eyes. This was how people saw her in real life, only fitting she should live up to her image.

She selected it and then quickly chose from the other options without paying too much attention. It wasn’t like she’d ever do this again. She okayed everything and when required to make a decision, just chose the first option. It still took forever.

Eventually, she got to the last screen.

Would you like to enter New World?

Typical low-effort name. Britta pressed Yes.

Chapter Two

The whiteness faded to black and then turned blue. The sky.

Britta looked around.