Fogged Canal: A Vendor’s Run

I wanted to love this, and there are flashes of real promise, especially in the sensory writing around the spices and the early bedside scenes. Unfortunately, the story leans too heavily on familiar LitRPG beats and predictable underdog tropes. The Civic Board rejection feels like a rote inciting incident, and the sanctioned challenge as the only path to freedom is a little on-the-nose. Pacing is uneven: the opening is lush with detail, then the plot rushes through key setup moments (the guild’s monopoly, the consequences of failing the challenge) without giving them enough weight. The ferrywoman’s test and the glyph-ladle are interesting ideas, but they’re presented quickly and don’t land with the dramatic impact they should. There are also a few logical gaps—how does the AR layer coexist with civic oversight so seamlessly? Why hasn’t someone else gamed this permit system? The protagonist’s personal stakes (her father’s illness) are emotionally resonant but not fully explored in relation to the game mechanics. All that said, the voice is strong and the core concept of cooking-as-combat is creative. With tighter plotting and less reliance on genre conventions, this could have been outstanding rather than merely promising.

This was such a fun ride 😍 The drone-crab is adorable and useful, and the ferrywoman’s test had me biting my nails. Cooking-as-combat worked way better than I expected—Jaya turning spices into weapons is genius. Scenes like her whispering “We’ll fix this” to her dad while grinding turmeric made me tear up. The AR overlay bits are slick and never feel clunky. Short, sharp, and full of heart. More please!

Smart, tightly written LitRPG with real heart. The HUD details—Jaya’s Tinkerer-Cook hybrid stats, skills like Spicecraft II and Jury-Rig II—are integrated so they feel like part of daily life rather than gamey exposition. I appreciated the civic denial mechanic (Vendor License: Rejected) as a neat, believable obstacle that drives the plot. Worldbuilding is confident: the flooded streets, AR scaffolds hovering above water, the Fogged Canal core as a sanctioned challenge. The blend of sensory cooking scenes (turmeric, fenugreek) with tactical gameplay moments (glyph-ladle fights, drone-crab assists) keeps the momentum moving. Small note: I’d like more payoff on some side mechanics, but overall this is a solid, immersive read for LitRPG fans.

I loved this. From the very first line—tide licking the stilts, the fan squeaking on the fourth turn—I was right there in Jaya’s cramped workshop, smelling turmeric and hearing the tram. The blend of domestic stakes (her father’s cot, that lone pill rattling) with AR LitRPG mechanics is beautiful and devastating. The overlay and profile pop-up felt utterly natural, and the denial from the Civic Board made me root for her even harder. What really sells the story is how cooking is reimagined as combat: the mortar, the glyph-ladle mechanic, and that clever drone-crab all felt like extensions of Jaya’s character. The ferrywoman’s test scene was a highlight—tense, tactile, and inventive. Also, “memory as a weapon” is such a poignant thread; it gives the gameplay real emotional stakes beyond just earning Rep. Atmosphere, voice, and pacing are all strong here. I left wanting more of New Sundar and Jaya’s small, stubborn rebellion against the guild. Please write a sequel!

A tidy, clever piece that balances LitRPG mechanics and emotional stakes. The hybrid class concept—Tinkerer-Cook—feels fresh, and the stat readout (Focus 12, Agility 9, Spirit 10) actually informs how Jaya approaches challenges. I liked how skills like Spicecraft II and Jury-Rig II translate to inventive problem-solving rather than just combat bonuses. The Fogged Canal core as a sanctioned challenge to break a guild monopoly is a neat narrative engine. Scenes such as the license denial and the ferrywoman’s test illustrate civic obstacles and local culture vividly. The only thing I wanted more of was a deeper look at guild politics, but the story’s economy of detail is otherwise impressive.

Witty, salty, and weirdly tender—this one landed for me. I mean, ‘Civic Board can eat kelp’ is my new life mantra 😂 The prose does so much with little: a squeaky fan, a single pill rattling on a crate, and suddenly you get Jaya’s whole economy of hope. The gameplay bits (overlay, stats, vendor license rejection) are integrated like spices—measured, essential, never overpowering. Also, shoutout to the drone-crab and glyph-ladle. Who knew kitchen tools could be so badass? The ferrywoman test had actual stakes and felt earned. Short, sharp, and very human. Loved it.

Fogged Canal: A Vendor’s Run is an impressive fusion of urban fantasy and LitRPG that manages to be both intimate and ambitious. The author creates New Sundar not as a backdrop but as a living, breathing character: the constant threat of flood, the glow of AR scaffolds over black glass canals, and the staccato domestic sounds—fan squeaks, tram rumbles—that ground the high-concept game mechanics. Jaya Bose is a wonderfully realized protagonist. She’s resourceful without being invincible: a Level 5 Tinkerer-Cook whose abilities are meticulously listed in the overlay but whose real power comes from improvisation and memory. The mortar scene—turmeric and fenugreek under her heel—introduces sensory detail that carries through the whole piece. It anchors the more speculative elements so the reader always knows what’s at stake: a vendor license, a family’s survival, and autonomy from a predatory guild. Mechanically, the AR elements are smoothly interwoven: profile windows, civic board rejections, and sanctioned challenges feel plausible in-universe. The Fogged Canal core as an actual contest to break a monopoly is smart storytelling; it turns civic bureaucracy into an arena. The glyph-ladle and drone-crab are two clever devices that make cooking combat feel tactile and inventive rather than gimmicky. Emotionally, the story hits when it matters—the bedside moment with her father, the quiet defiance of the “Civic Board can eat kelp” mutter, and the ferrywoman’s test that reframes a simple crossing as a moral and physical trial. Memory-as-weapon is a resonant motif that gives the game layer depth: what you remember and how you apply it becomes survival. Minor quibbles: a few secondary threads could be expanded (the guild’s monopoly history, the civic board’s inner logic), but as a compact, engaging tale it succeeds on almost every level. It’s a warm, gritty, and inventive entry in LitRPG that left me wanting a full-length novel set in New Sundar.

Cute premise, but it felt like reheated LitRPG comfort food. Cooking as combat is a neat gimmick, and I did smile at the drone-crab, but the story never moves beyond setup. The guild monopoly angle is obvious, the ferrywoman test predictable, and several scenes (license rejection, HUD pop-ups) read like checklist items for the genre rather than true dramatic beats. Would’ve liked sharper stakes and fewer conveniences. Still, the writing is clean and the sensory bits—turmeric, the fan squeak—are nice. Could be fun as a longer piece if it fleshed out consequences instead of skimming them.

Short, punchy, and atmospheric. The opening image—New Sundar holding its breath—sets the tone beautifully. HUD elements like Jaya’s Level 5 Tinkerer-Cook profile are handled gracefully, never bogging down the prose. Favorite moment: the denial of the vendor license felt like a real, bureaucratic slap. The ferrywoman test and the glyph-ladle mechanic were inventive; the drone-crab is a delight. Left me wanting a longer dive into this world. 🙂

This story stayed with me. The sensory writing is what hooked me—the gritty feel of turmeric under Jaya’s hand, the fan squeak, the punctuation of the tram’s rumble. Those small domestic details elevate the AR overlay and the LitRPG elements, making the futuristic feel intimately human. Jaya’s struggle to free her stall from a guild monopoly is quietly powerful. The vendor license rejection scene was so believable it made my chest tighten; you feel the bureaucracy as a physical weight. The ferrywoman’s test reimagines a rite of passage in a way that’s both mythic and mundane, and the glyph-ladle/drone-crab combo is playful and smart. I especially loved the idea that memory becomes a weapon—so much of the story’s emotional truth rests on what Jaya remembers and why. It’s a compact tale but with real heart and atmosphere. Would happily follow Jaya through more runs in the Fogged Canal.