Blueprints for Northern Defense

Northern Defense monster waves. Until recently, they'd been nothing more than words I'd heard in lectures. Our Roman family was in the heart of the south, so northern affairs always felt like someone else's distant problem. But ever since I met Ariel sunbae at the academy city's event hall, my mind had been consumed with thoughts of monster waves. Blizzards whipping through the air. Hordes of monsters charging in. Desperate battles to hold them back... and even cutting-edge tech like the fireball launchers.

"Looks fun, though..." I muttered, flopping onto my bed and lifting my mana panel. I thought about opening the community to check overdue posts, but instead, I typed different terms into the search bar.

The results poured in—thousands, even tens of thousands if you included related searches. The problem? Most of it wasn't the kind of info I needed.

Just glancing at the titles, I could tell they were all dry, academic drivel. I slammed the panel shut in a panic.

"Whew. Almost quit before I even started."

What I needed was data. What species of monsters, in what numbers, how they formed up and swarmed, their traits, speeds, attack power, defense... all that. To make a game, I needed info as raw material. I couldn't just say "a ton of monsters come at you" and call it a day.

"But this isn't enough."

Mana panels had their limits for this stuff.

"Guess it's all framed as military ops."

Wave descriptions were vague summaries, monster details and scales lumped together. Articles censored for public consumption, easy to digest but light on specifics. I needed the gritty details.

"Gotta hit the library."

The academy library was as quiet as ever. No sign of regular students—just hollow-eyed grad students mechanically flipping pages amid that intimidating scene and musty paper smell, which somehow made me behave.

"Looking for books on Valkar Duchy and monster waves."

"V Section, shelf 31."

Following the librarian's directions, I headed straight to the stacks.

"Jackpot."

Thick enough to use as a bludgeon, titles that made my head spin just looking at them. Still, my lips curled into a grin that wouldn't quit.

Soon after, I plopped down in a reading room with a stack of books as tall as me.

Flipping pages, I sighed, suddenly overwhelmed.

"Jeez, every kind of monster under the sun."

I'd expected it from the thickness, but over a hundred species native to the north. And I had to pick just a few for the game, each with distinct traits and quirks.

"Haa..."

My notebook was a wreck from frantic scribbles.

"Can I even implement this in a game...?"

Thinking back now, one realization hit: Dodge the Fireball was dead simple. Move, dodge. Get hit, feel bad, play again. All I'd done was make the fireballs prettier and deadlier.

But a defense game... I clawed at my hair under the mounting stress.

"Ah. This is way more hassle than I thought?"

No, not hassle—tons of work. Enough unread material to bury me.

I sighed at the ceiling.

"Still gotta do it."

Saying it out loud felt ridiculous. No one ordered me to. No one promised a fortune. ...Well, maybe. But sales could flop. So why was I doing this?

"...Because it's fun."

That's when.

"Chase showing up at the library? What's that about, you know."

I looked up at the familiar voice and cadence. Yaruru, book in hand, plopped down across from me.

"Yaruru?"

"Yeah. Feels like forever, you know."

"What're you talking about? We talked in lecture hall the day before yesterday."

I reflexively covered my books and notes, shoving them aside. But that just drew her attention.

"North? Why suddenly digging into Valkar Duchy, you know."

Ah. The stack next to me.

"...Got curious outta nowhere."

Her narrowed eyes made me snap gruffly.

"Why're you staring like that?"

"It's weird, you know."

"Students can come to the library."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"But Chase has never come here once, so it's weird, you know."

"..."

Harsh. She just shrugged at my reaction and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠stood.

"Hmph. Fine, you know. But you gotta tell me later what it's about, you know."

"Once it's sorted."

"Yeah. I'm off then, you know."

Unlike usual, she actually left after that. I chuckled at her back, then grabbed the shoved-aside books.

"Alright. Back to focus."

As I said earlier, defense games differ from Dodge the Fireball in key ways. Dodging bullet hell needs precise calc, but your reflexes carry you there—especially pre-2.0 update.

But defense games from my past life? Minimal physical skill. Place counter units by enemy type, defend waves within cost limits. Multiple approach paths? Double, triple the judgment calls.

Game success hinged on my design chops.

Blind faith in past-life memories for planning...?

"Gotta plan this right."

"Eight categories just in the big picture... feels off somehow."

I steeled myself. Finish this massive skeleton, and the fun might begin.

...Probably.

Nothing left but faith it'd get easier later.

"Where was I...?"

10 PM, library closing. Obviously couldn't borrow the whole stack. Lucky Yaruru passed by and helped snag a few more.

Back at the dorm, I opened my status window and jumped into the creation space.

"Phew. All-day book grind nearly drove me nuts."

Concept, map design—basics locked. Might as well knock out some work for a breather.

Yeah. Started light-hearted like that.

"Defense, obviously... Wait, why so many subgenres?!"

"Load Valkar territory pic first, snow as back layer..."

"Outsourcing this beats making it myself, way cheaper... Sigh. Gotta do it."

Kiiiiieeee—

Kwaaaaa—

"..."

The boss was the voice synthesis engine. It controlled every sound: BGM, effects, character voices.

Tweak BGM all I want—same result. Horrid screeches like demons from hell.

"...Status window glitched?"

Sounds fit for horror, not defense. I scrutinized the creation space's blank white background draft.

No issues glaring back, no matter how hard I stared.

A flimsy wall teetering worse than reality's barriers. Endless snowy plains beyond, powdery snow sapping will and warmth. Solid so far. Perfect, even. Dark fantasy over plain fantasy—lonely, grim, tension thick with impending doom.

Then the mood flips. Starts with flickering torches. Grim-faced soldiers, snorting warhorses. Stern commanders. Hope from torches swells to fiery northern resolve.

...Or so the draft went. I pinched my brow.

BGM should convey hope, but this? Last humanity's death throes.

"Hold up."

A thought struck; retracing steps, the culprit was my tags.

"No way putting in [Gloom][Doom] tags did this?"

Test BGM again—yep.

Whiiiish—

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Clank, clank, doooong...

"..."

Haaa...

"Unit design after a break, maybe."

Muttered it, but shook my head.

"Nah. Rest now, and tomorrow I'll hate it more."

Straightened up amid the swirling snow in the status window.

Core framework done. Map, BGM, rules—skeleton intact, if imperfect.

Next: units.

"Copied mana panel data somewhere..."

Pulled up the linked mana panel screen beside my view.

"Good thing I organized ahead."

Cross-referenced mana panel and library data, ranked by personal prowess and feats—like a performance chart. Real people as motifs, so even low-stars couldn't be total trash.

"Low-stars get roles too. Low-cost for easy early waves..."

High-stars...?

"Juiced up."

More evolutions, flashier attacks than low-stars. Big performance gaps? Player backlash wasn't the issue.

"I'd die first in balancing..."

Regrettable, but what can you do? Second game ever, status window basically says "hah, noob, git gud."

"..."

Unlike BGM hell, units flowed smooth.

"Decent enough... best for this stage."

Two big hurdles left: mob ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠design and balancing.