Browse 1,306 websites

Seventy thousand public domain books, plain and free, from the oldest digital library on the internet.

Harvard's implicit association tests, measuring the biases you would never report about yourself. Uncomfortable, rigorous and free.

The Vedic side of the practice: kundli, dasha periods and panchang, calculated free with the underlying reasoning shown.

The colour-word interference test as the real psychology experiment rather than a quiz-site imitation, with your data at the end.

A pug in a rug, plus a timer counting exactly how long you have now watched the pug be in the rug.

A cat purr you tune by size, mood and breathing rate, for people who work better with a notional cat on the desk.

The Only Connect connecting wall in thousands of user-made versions: sixteen clues, four groups, two and a half minutes.

Daily nonograms in every size from five squares to fifty, with a timer and no attempt whatsoever at decoration.

Free monthly puzzle sets designed to be solved in a pub, with a decade of archives you can print at home.

A question site where people post original puzzles and strangers solve them properly, with the reasoning shown.

Zach Gage's daily puzzle collection — Cross|word, Flipart, Really Bad Chess — with the best interface in the genre by a distance.

A quantum computing textbook with spaced repetition built into the page, so what you read has a chance of staying.

Five thousand strips of indie-rock relationship comedy with sarcastic robots, updating every weekday since 2003.

Doodle six things in twenty seconds while a neural net shouts guesses at you. The training set it produced now runs to fifty million drawings.

Guided meditation for people who have never meditated, starting at two minutes and never once mentioning chakras.

Take a quiz or build one and send it on. Results are shareable without anybody having to make an account first.

Four Wordle grids solved at the same time with nine shared guesses, which is exactly as stressful as that sounds.

Four keys drive the four thigh and calf muscles of one Olympic sprinter, and none of them cooperate. The original rage game.

The internet's default supply of small animals doing small things, restocked constantly by thirty million subscribers.

The scene's main feed: databent photos, broken televisions and corrupted video, with the technique usually in the comments.

Crowd-sourced feed of well-made and gloriously pointless websites, and the closest thing left to a modern stumble button.

Photographs of corridors, swimming pools and hotel lobbies with nobody in them, which is far more affecting than that sounds.

Strangers being decent to each other, collected into one feed for the days when every other feed has been too much.

Horror fiction posted as though it were true, under a rule that commenters must play along. The good threads run for weeks.

Steady feed of new illusions with the comments doing the debunking, which is usually half of the entertainment.

Home of the shared pixel canvas where millions of people fought surprisingly politely over a few million squares.

Archive of the experiment where one button and one click each spawned genuine factions, martyrs and a working theology within days.

A community-maintained open database of internet radio streams with no company behind it, which is why the odd little stations survive there.

Spin a globe covered in green dots and drop the needle on a live local station anywhere on Earth. The buffering is part of the charm.

Human-curated and listener-supported, mixed like an album rather than a playlist, at an absurdly high bitrate if you want it.

A tidy directory of tens of thousands of broadcast stations by country, genre and topic, with nothing to sign up for before you press play.

Pick a country and a decade on a world map and hear what people there were actually listening to, curated by humans since 1900.

Two floppy archers, one bow each, and physics that decides the winner considerably more often than aim does.

A browser railway empire where the whole server races to reach the same era of engines before anybody else does.

Rain radar for most of the world with a past-and-future loop, which answers the question of whether to leave now in about four seconds.

Half an hour of rain and distant thunder on a loop, running since before background noise was a productivity category.

Loose-surface rally driving where every corner is taken sideways, largely because there is no other way to take them.

A library of specific, doable kindness ideas and the research on why doing them helps the doer as much as the recipient.

One button, one random inhabited spot on Earth in Street View, most of them somewhere nobody would ever have chosen to look.

Blows one image up into a multi-page halftone poster that you print at home and tape across an entire wall.

A short typing course with a certificate at the end, oddly motivating for something nobody will ever ask you to show.

The obsessive's music database, where every release is rated, charted and argued over by people with extremely firm opinions.

A snarkier reference work covering pseudoscience, conspiracy theories and the people making a living from them.

Paste a spreadsheet, pick from chart types most tools refuse to offer, and export an editable vector file.

Thousands of marketing emails collected and searchable, which is the only sane way to go about designing one.

Every train on the British network with the signalling data attached: which loop it was held in, where it lost four minutes and why.

David Byrne's magazine about things that are demonstrably working somewhere, reported at length rather than as a listicle.

Amit Patel's tutorials on pathfinding, hexagonal grids and noise, with every parameter exposed as a slider you can ruin.