The Net

The Net, also called Cyberspace, is the massive, interconnected digital network that spans the globe.It’s far more complex and immersive, including not just computers and phones, but also appliances, buildings, and even cybernetic implants. Data flows through all sorts of channels—fiber optic lines, radio waves, satellite beams, and cell networks. If it can carry a signal, it’s part of the Net.
To access the Net, you need a modem—but casual use and deep immersion are very different experiences. You can browse like someone in our modern world, using a keyboard and screen (called a Vidboard), but real Netrunners use cybermodems. These are high-end interfaces that stream the Net directly into the user’s brain through interface plugs. Though some use external electrodes or less efficient setups, serious runners always go with direct neural links. In the Net, every millisecond counts, and a faster connection can mean the difference between digital life and death.
Since the DataKrash in 2022—the catastrophic release of the R.A.B.I.D.S. virus by legendary hacker Rache Bartmoss—the original, unified Old NET was fractured. What's left is the Shallow Net: a fragmented, heavily controlled remnant. Public parts are monitored by NetWatch, and vast regions are now sealed off by a powerful digital barrier known as the Blackwall.
Navigating the Net is a visual experience. Everything you see is rendered in 3D space, like a stylized video game world. Netrunners don’t just read data—they see it. Every person, program, or structure appears as an Icon, which is a visual avatar. These icons can be anything from basic shapes to photorealistic humans. The more memory a system has, the more detailed the icons. You might see a firewall appear as a literal wall of flame, or a virus as a snake slithering across the floor.
This visual depth is possible thanks to the Ihara-Grubb Transformation Algorithms. These core protocols translate the abstract architecture of cyberspace into something tangible. If you’re standing in a data node on the 30th floor of a tower, and another node is three blocks away on the ground level, you’ll “see” that other node in your environment accordingly—three blocks over and thirty stories down. The algorithms also adapt the landscape based on network conditions. Strong signals might make paths smooth and easy to traverse, while weak ones could morph the terrain into jagged, impassable digital mountains.
At the heart of cyberspace lie Data Fortresses. These are essentially individual computer systems or servers, rendered as full 3D environments. A corporation’s system might appear as a skyscraper, fortress, or starship—anything the sysop (system operator) designs. Inside, data might be represented as file cabinets, safes, or hidden rooms, while defense programs take the form of guard dogs, turrets, or armored knights. To gain access, Netrunners must get past data walls—barriers that can be hacked through or bypassed with programs like worms or code keys. Once inside, you can move through corridors of code to extract files or sabotage the system.
Even after the fall of the Old Net, there are still pockets and “regions” that retain unique characteristics or interfaces from the earlier days. Initially, users could choose different interface styles—like a noir city, a medieval dungeon, or the bright neon look of Tron. Over time, these were consolidated, and now the Tron-style has become the standard.
Despite the splintered state of cyberspace post-DataKrash, it still holds immense value—and danger. Netrunners dive into the Net seeking old corporate secrets, lost technologies, or deeper truths hidden behind the Blackwall, where rogue AIs roam in digital wilderness. It’s not just a tool—it’s a battlefield, a frontier, and a dreamscape all in one.

Regions

In the sprawling and surreal expanse of the Net, regions function as digital analogs to real-world geography, but they’re defined more by influence, infrastructure, and ideology than by strict borders. These regions each have distinct Virtuals—the default environmental aesthetics of the Netspace in those areas—shaped by the dominant cultures, corporations, and political forces that maintain them. Though grounded in virtual logic, these borders constantly shift depending on who holds sway at any given moment, making the Net as fluid and volatile as the data that flows through it.
Atlantis serves as a chaotic and black-market-heavy expanse that overlays the southern Atlantic Ocean and spans from Central and South America to the African coast. The Central American Federation (CAF) and several influential Corporations—like Arasaka, Orbital Air, SovOil, R.E.O. Meatwagon, and WNS—exert competing influences here, but coordination among them is minimal. The virtuals of Atlantis evoke an “old fashioned” digital aesthetic, often robotic or mechanical in nature. The area is infamous for its unreliable switching stations, which can cause severe Net instability. Control here is volatile, and borders can change dramatically overnight. Islands in the region, such as those in the Caribbean, often host custom-designed virtual environments meant to lure tourists or hide illegal activity. Atlantis is largely unpoliced and has become synonymous with lawless opportunity and shifting digital sands.
In stark contrast, Pacifica offers a more harmonious and sophisticated vision of Netspace. Covering the Pacific Ocean from pole to pole—including Australia, Southeast Asia, the western half of the NUSA, Alaska, and islands in between—Pacifica is one of the most visually and functionally impressive regions on the Net. Its default virtual is a serene oceanic dreamscape, populated by glowing sea creatures and watched over by dolphin programs that double as both janitors and tattletales. Architecture appears like stylized ruins floating above endless, smooth water. The digital environment adapts intelligently to data flow: areas of weak bandwidth are rendered as ominous storms or hurricane-like chaos. Control is fragmented across the region, with various powers—like the NUSA, France, Australia, New Zealand, and the FACS (Far Asian Co-Prosperity Sphere)—each holding sway over different zones. Netwatch has a strong and unusually fair presence here under the leadership of the respected and by-the-book Magnificent Curtis.
The Olympia region encompasses the western and parts of the central NUSA, as well as portions of Canada. Its virtual looks like a corporate dreamscape of skyscrapers that float in the sky with mirrored counterparts hanging below. "Gravity" is relative to the nearest surface, and communication lines appear as suspended catwalks connecting these towering constructs. Bandwidth interruptions cause cracks to appear in these paths, which can become impassable during major interference. Corporations dominate Olympia's urban grids, often to the point of making city borders synonymous with corporate jurisdictions. Netwatch presence is weak and even mocked in some areas like Nevada, where an off-brand version called “Notwatch” operates with a laissez-faire attitude, allowing for widespread but controlled illegality. The result is a paradoxically stable but lawless region that thrives on business, tourism, and carefully monitored anarchy.
In the high-density sprawl of Tokyo/Chiba, Japan’s dominance in the Net is made manifest through a highly compressed and intricately designed virtual that prioritizes visual density and cultural motifs. Stylized bamboo forests cast delicate light shadows, and the sense of space is deliberately restricted due to bandwidth constraints caused by the region’s immense activity. Officially governed by the Far Asian Co-Prosperity Sphere (FACS), this region is in reality a playground for the Japanese Zaibatsus—powerful mega-corporations that ignore the FACS’s authority. Arasaka is the de facto ruler, and foreign runners are often targeted or harassed by hostile local defenses. Nevertheless, Tokyo/Chiba remains a major attraction for netrunners worldwide, especially those fascinated by Japanese tech and culture. Terrorism and anti-Zaibatsu resistance are growing concerns here, fueled by resentment over corporate overreach.
The Eurotheater represents the digital domain of the European Community (EC) and is the epitome of elegance and order. Its virtual is a blend of classical and futuristic aesthetics: Roman columns, high-concept art, and orbital constructs. Bandwidth infrastructure is among the best in the world, providing long-range visibility and smooth data flow. The only notable exceptions are Britain, northern Central Europe, and North Africa, where virtual "mountains" can occasionally be seen, signaling degraded connections. Europeans in this world tend to hold Americans in contempt, and that cultural snobbery is reflected in how their virtuals feel: pristine, haughty, and controlled. Netwatch enjoys full authority here, operating with the blessing of both government and corporate entities. It’s one of the few regions where Netwatch is treated as a true law enforcement body, with its own fortified dataforts and cross-border powers. The region is economically dominant and strictly regulated, discouraging casual criminal activity through omnipresent oversight and harsh penalties.
Sovspace, by contrast, is like a forgotten corner of the digital world. Comprising the territories of the former Soviet Union and much of Eastern Europe, Sovspace lingers in a steampunk-like digital past. The virtual here is dark and twisted—gas lamps, cobblestone streets, and 19th-century cottages dominate the cramped and low-visibility environment. This visual compression isn’t an artistic choice; it reflects outdated hardware and bandwidth limitations. Navigation is difficult, especially for outsiders unfamiliar with the virtual’s strange logic. Netwatch is banned here outright. The KGB and corporate enforcers such as SovOil maintain order instead, often with draconian methods. Despite their aged technology, Russian cyberware is incredibly robust and brutally effective, emphasizing power and durability over elegance. It's a dangerous region for netrunners, where what few defenses exist are usually designed to kill.
Beyond these major regions lies the more mysterious and mythic edges of the Net. By 2077, the digital world has evolved further, and new sectors have emerged. Reza Agwe, for example, is under the control of the Voodoo Boys, a faction known for their unconventional and deeply spiritual approach to Netrunning. Scattered across the Net are countless isolated pockets—data fortresses, quarantined black sites, and independent domains where rogue AIs, syndicates, or fringe governments exert control.
And beyond it all lies Mikoshi, a digital fortress of profound importance, and Beyond the Blackwall—the true unknown. This final frontier of the Net represents the chaos past the barrier meant to separate human consciousness from rogue AIs and the vast unknowable that lies outside controlled cyberspace. Few enter and fewer return, but its lure remains constant for the boldest Netrunners: the promise of total freedom, total knowledge—or total annihilation.
Together, these regions paint a fractured, vibrant, and often treacherous portrait of the Net. It's a space shaped by ambition, ideology, and architecture—an ever-changing mirror of the physical world’s politics and power struggles, stretched across an infinite digital sky.

What is a Net Runner?

A Netrunner is a cyberpunk-era hacker who uses brain-computer implants to directly connect to the digital world known as the Net. They're more than just coders—they're cyber-spies, digital thieves, and information warriors who can slip into secure systems, steal or corrupt data, disable security measures, and control machines like cameras and drones—all at the speed of thought. They use specialized gear like neural plugs, cyberdecks, and software called the Menu to move through cyberspace in real time, making them some of the most dangerous operatives in the world.
The Net itself isn’t what it used to be. After a catastrophic event called the DataKrash shattered the open internet, today's Net is broken, locked down, and monitored by AI systems and digital law enforcement like NetWatch. Netrunners now navigate a fragmented, high-risk world where every dive into cyberspace could mean brain damage, death by hostile code, or being hunted by black ops agents and killer programs known as ICE. Despite this, corps still hire them to defend or attack digital fortresses, while many freelancers make a living selling secrets, sabotaging rivals, or helping street crews survive tech-heavy encounters.
Living mostly in shadows, Netrunners are deeply tied to the underground culture of the cyberpunk world. They're brilliant and often unstable, growing up on computers and diving into code since childhood. While society fears them, corporations depend on them, and in a world ruled by tech, Netrunners remain the hidden hands shaping reality from behind the screen.

What was the Data Krash?

The DataKrash was a catastrophic event in which the original NET was mostly destroyed by the R.A.B.I.D.S. viruses created by the infamous netrunner Rache Bartmoss. It occurred on June 3, 2022.
Considered the most brilliant hacker in the NET, Bartmoss was a rogue netrunner who actively harassed and undermined powerful corporations, viewing them as the greatest threat to humanity. Constantly hunted and with a price on his head, Bartmoss spent his final days in hiding—sealed in a disguised cryogenic freezer rigged with life support and constant Net access. In September 2014, he secretly planted the R.A.B.I.D.S. virus in the NET, timing it to activate upon his death. His intent was to destroy corporate secrecy by breaching all datafortresses and releasing their contents into the open Net. However, the result was far more destructive.
Once unleashed, the virus infected over three-quarters of the Net within months. Network traffic collapsed, corporations lost billions as markets crashed, and massive amounts of data were corrupted or lost. Worse, military-grade artificial intelligences were unleashed, mutating into unpredictable and hostile entities. NetWatch, overwhelmed and unable to contain the chaos, constructed the Blackwall—a powerful barrier AI designed to seal off the corrupted regions of the Net overrun by rogue AIs and ICE. Rumors spread that NetWatch could only complete the Blackwall with the help of some of these AIs, who may have wished to escape human oversight for their own unknown goals.
In the immediate wake of the DataKrash, the Net became nearly unusable. To maintain basic operations, corporations and governments temporarily reverted to using old-school punch card technology for data handling and security. Once the Blackwall was completed, the Net gradually stabilized, but it had changed forever. The once-global, interconnected network had been shattered. In its place arose countless private Nets, each under strict control by corporations or governments. The public Net, now overseen by NetWatch, became a heavily monitored space where privacy was nonexistent, and any attempt to bypass the Blackwall was met with swift and severe punishment.

What is the Black wall?

The Blackwall is a powerful and mysterious digital barrier created by NetWatch to contain the chaos unleashed by rogue AIs after the DataKrash. More than just a firewall, it is actually an advanced artificial intelligence designed to patrol and guard the edges of safe cyberspace, preventing corrupted AIs from re-entering and causing further destruction.
Originally constructed in secret during the 2040s with help from enigmatic AI entities known as the Transcendentals and Ghosts, the Blackwall effectively split the old Net in half. It sealed off the most dangerous and unstable regions, locking away valuable data and entire digital systems. Stories even tell of “haunted data” trapped beyond its reach.
By 2077, the Blackwall is still active, but controversial. Some netrunners and groups like the Voodoo Boys believe the AIs behind it could be allies or even gods, and they want the wall torn down. Others, like NetWatch, see it as humanity’s last line of defense—though they also admit it’s a temporary fix at best. Since the Blackwall is itself an AI, there's a fear it could one day go rogue too. For now, it remains a cold, silent guardian—dividing the digital world into what’s safe, and what’s better left forgotten.