A story page usually holds something that matters — a voice, a memory, a person. So before you trust us with it, you deserve to know exactly what we promise, and what we deliberately don't. Here it is, all of it.
When a story page is activated, we commit to hosting it for ten years from that day. It isn't rented month to month and it can't go dark because a subscription lapsed — there is no subscription. The full term is written into our Terms of Service, and before those ten years are up, we contact you — your page never just vanishes at a deadline.
And because "trust us" isn't a funding plan, here's ours, stated as honestly as we can: our goal is to fund those ten years of hosting with the net profits of our first hundred sales, set aside as they come in — so the promise is carried by the pieces themselves, not by optimism.
Every tag and every page lives at craftedlink.app. That address is registered and paid through August 2, 2036 — the longest single term the rules of the internet let anyone buy. It is not a promise about the future you have to trust us on. It is a matter of public record.
Check it yourself in about thirty seconds. Open ICANN's registration lookup — ICANN is the nonprofit that oversees the world's domain names, and that is their tool, not ours — type craftedlink.app into the box, and read the line marked Registry Expiration. We can't edit that page. Nobody selling you anything can.
And the honest limit on what that proves: it's the address that's paid forward, not the whole machine. A story page needs the address, the database, and the web host all answering — this locks down the first of the three, and it's the only one that can be bought years ahead. One brick, not the whole wall. The copy you can take home in point 3 is still the part that outlives everything, us included.
Every story page has a "Save an offline copy" button in its footer. It packs the whole page — photos, words, and audio — into a single file that opens from a phone, a computer, or a USB stick with no internet and no CraftedLink at all. No account needed, nothing to ask us for, no charge, ever. Your memories are never hostage; you can check that claim yourself right now on any story page.
Every piece that ships with a story page also ships with a printed card carrying the page's address and code. If the tag ever stops working — or the phone doing the tapping predates all of this — the page is still one typed address away.
We plan to be here well past every term we've sold. But promises that skip the uncomfortable part aren't promises, so: if CraftedLink ever had to close, we commit to written notice to every customer we can reach, and to keeping the pages up for at least 30 days after that notice — time to save offline copies, with reminders on how. No dead links one random morning. Ever.
You'll notice "lifetime" appears nowhere on this site. Others in this space promise "lifetime hosting" — with no term, no export, and no answer to "what happens if you close?" Nobody can honestly promise a web page will exist forever, and we won't pretend otherwise.
What we can promise is a stated term, a copy you can hold, a card in the box, and honest notice before anything changes. We'd rather earn your trust with a bounded promise we can keep than borrow it with an unbounded one nobody can.
Questions about any line of this? Write to support@craftedlink.app — a real person answers.
