The world
Five real websites. Five companies that do not exist.
NetGodz is set in a near-future where the net is physical: hardware in buildings, owned by companies with tax returns. Five of those companies have websites you can visit right now. They have product pages, spec sheets, price lists and job listings. They are fiction, and they are part of the game.
If you landed on one of these sites, read a product page, and could not work out whether the company was real — it is not, and this page is the answer. Nothing on any of them sells anything, ships anything, or takes a payment. No real company, product or person is being imitated. The whole apparatus exists so that the world of the game has somewhere to be other than inside the game.
The properties
Go and look. That is the point of them.
These are in character. They do not mention NetGodz, they do not wink, and they will not explain themselves — except in their terms and privacy pages, which break character in the first sentence and say exactly what you are looking at. That is deliberate: the truth lives where people look for the truth.
The main deck supplier. Founded on repair, grew into manufacture, and still prouder of its service department than of its product line. Decks are numbered in Marks, I through V. Every honest spec sheet on that site admits that memory is the bottleneck, because in this world it always is.
The rival. Younger, louder, ships faster, benchmarks everything, and is slightly worse at answering the phone. Sells on numbers where Cybrscape sells on craft. The two of them reference each other by name, which is the most realistic thing about either company.
A small, extremely expensive digital art gallery. A dozen works, not a marketplace — deliberately sparse, and run by a dealer with actual taste. Prices, where they appear, are in credits, and there is nothing on the site that will take a card.
A serious-looking aerospace programme with a mission statement about the future of the species, a launch cadence, and cargo manifests so precise that nobody has ever finished reading one.
Racks, routing, colocation — the hardware that actually is the net. The oldest of the five and by far the least visible, which is the usual arrangement for infrastructure. Currently hiring.
The only one of the six that is out of character. It exists to explain the game and to be findable by anyone who goes looking for the other five.
The rules we hold ourselves to
Fiction, not a trick.
- Nothing real is imitated
No real company, executive, publication or product appears on any of the five. No real logos, no “as seen in”. They resemble our world the way a novel does, and no further.
- Nothing takes money
There is no checkout, no payment field and no real account anywhere across the five sites. In-world prices are quoted in credits, which cannot be bought.
- Nothing collects data it does not name
Where a form exists at all, it asks for a name and an email and says on the page where that goes. This site collects nothing whatsoever — see privacy.
- Nothing ships
No deck will arrive. No artwork will be delivered. No rack will be racked. If any page ever seems to promise otherwise, it is a bug in the fiction, not an offer.
- The escape hatch is always one click away
Every one of the five links its own terms and privacy pages in its footer, and both say plainly that the site is part of the NetGodz game.
Why bother
Because the horror is in hindsight.
The tone across all five is dry, specific and slightly too competent. Nobody is spooky. The font is not scary. They read like real marketing from companies that are good at their jobs, which is the only way this works: a world you can check is a world you can be wrong about.
In the game you will run against targets, buy warez from a market, and read between the lines of people who want something from you. The five sites are where the lines are. They are not required reading, and they contain no walkthrough and no cheat codes. They are just the world, sitting there, being ordinary.