Browse 1,306 websites

One click copies the Lenny face, the shrug or the look of disapproval to your clipboard, correctly escaped.

Type a word, pick from several hundred FIGlet fonts, and get the enormous ASCII banner your terminal deserves.

Converts an uploaded photograph into ASCII, HTML or coloured text art, with the character density under your control.

Thousands of browser-playable parser and choice games, plus Quest, the authoring tool most of them were written in.

Everything people typed at each other on bulletin board systems before the web existed, preserved as plain text and left open.

An air horn in a browser tab, installable offline, built by Google engineers as a demo and adopted as a weapon.

A personality test that assigns you one of forty-odd animals, with write-ups considerably sharper than the premise deserves.

Spawns browser windows that dance around the screen and refuse to sit still, harmless but genuinely infuriating.

Daily edit of objects, gear and short videos picked by somebody with taste and no obvious interest in sponsorship.

Satire from a conservative and Christian angle, useful mainly as a read on what the other newsroom finds absurd.

Wiki for an infinite office nobody built, mapped level by level in damp yellow carpet by contributors who take it extremely seriously.

Canadian satire that assumes you follow Canadian politics, and rewards you handsomely if you happen to.

Australia's oldest newspaper, filed from a town with no remaining population, covering the nation with dead-eyed accuracy.

Teaches the pen tool by making you trace shapes with the fewest possible anchor points. Level nine is genuinely cruel.

Millions of pages of declassified government documents prised out by freedom of information requests, free to browse.

The gentle way into fragment shaders, with every example editable in the page and redrawing itself as you type.

Combine shapes with union, subtract and intersect to hit a target silhouette in as few operations as you can manage.

One button, escalating nonsense, and no way onward except pressing it again. Works on a phone, which is the danger.

One large red button and a clear instruction not to press it. It gets increasingly personal about the fact that you keep pressing it.

Sweet wrappers collected and annotated for decades, arranged by how well the graphic design has survived contact with the present.

Profiles of thousands of American cold case disappearances, written and maintained by one person for decades.

The Australian team that built a career on television stunts, still publishing headlines that get them into trouble.

Every component you might need to build, with links to how twenty different design systems each named and handled it.

British satire in short bitter columns, mostly concerning the middle classes and the people who irritate them.

A reference of every chart type and what each is genuinely for, worth reading before defaulting to a bar chart.

Scroll from the surface to the bottom of the Mariana Trench, meeting every creature at the depth it actually lives.

Animal rescue stories with the video attached, engineered from the ground up to make you cry quietly at your desk.

A volunteer register of unidentified remains and missing people, matched by amateurs who keep on succeeding.

A scholarly reference to the whole genre, free to read, covering authors nobody else ever bothered to write up.

A playable account of why cooperation appears and then collapses, using game theory and roughly ten minutes of attention.

Bisect angles, find midpoints and judge parallels by eye, then get told in pixels precisely how wrong you were.

The original page describing the World Wide Web project, restored by CERN at its first address. Plain text and a few links.

Complete texts, timelines and scholarship for a writer whose entire output is public domain, on a site that has barely changed since 1994.

One of the first things the internet ever collectively lost its mind over, and it is still rows of dancing rodents and one loop.

Good news redrawn as illustrations by a designer who got tired of doomscrolling and built the feed he wanted instead.

A quarterly printed newspaper of good news and everyday heroes, illustrated throughout, with the archive online.

Punk and hardcore scene satire, written by people who clearly still go to shows and still resent everyone there.

Two Google search terms, one question: which one gets searched more? Your instincts are far worse than you think they are.

Aggregates everything the music blogs posted today into one stream, which is how people found new records before playlists took over.

Every interactive fiction file anyone thought worth keeping since 1992, in a directory listing that has never once been redesigned.

Jay Alammar's diagram-by-diagram walkthrough of the architecture underneath every modern language model.

Multiple-choice questions where the correct answer is a pun, a trick or an outright lie, and three wrong ones end the whole run.

One cat looking at a monitor showing a cat looking at a monitor, several thousand cats deep and still accepting submissions.

Coin-operated arcade cabinets from the seventies onward, emulated in a tab, attract mode and all.

Every possible page of text that could ever exist, already written, sitting at a findable address.

Scroll the length of an absurdly elongated shiba inu, with checkpoints and a leaderboard for the truly committed.

A catalogue of films, broadcasts and recordings that are known to have existed and cannot now be found. Some entries get solved.

A student sold a million pixels of advertising at a dollar each in 2005. The mosaic is still up, and most of the links now go nowhere.