The whole directory
Across 91 categories. Filter by how long you have got, what mood you are in, and whether you are at a desk with people walking past.
1,306 sites · page 7 of 28
Telephone played with drawings: describe a picture, draw a description, and watch the chain derail over twelve steps.
Move the mouse and flowers, mushrooms and grass sprout underneath it while a music box plays. No tools, no undo, no point.
Draw and guess with a room code, or play solo against the clock on the evenings when nobody answers the group chat.
A directory that has been curating this genre since 2004, including a great many games nobody else bothered to archive.
One button, one endless right angle, one car sliding off the edge of the world. The purest possible drifting game.
Tune a car, hold the handbrake and score points for angle rather than lap times. The garage is quietly the actual game.
Precise Hindu calendar giving tithi, nakshatra and auspicious timings for any date and location. Astronomically rigorous throughout.
Dashcam footage of a city loop with the local radio playing over it, so you can drive slowly through Istanbul while answering email.
Balance a truck over obstacle courses clearly designed by somebody who has never driven anything at all.
Search without the profile building, plus bang shortcuts that fire your query straight at another site. Type an exclamation and w for Wikipedia.
Yu-Gi-Oh played manually against real opponents, with every card ever printed and no automation to hide your mistakes.
Gamified courses in dozens of languages, plus the guilt engine keeping most people's streaks technically alive.
Thirty-two Wordle boards at once, thirty-seven guesses, no mercy. The logical end point of the whole 2022 craze.
JavaScript demos in 140 characters. The gap between how little code there is and what appears is the whole appeal.
A rotating globe with every wind current on Earth drawn as moving lines, and layers underneath for ocean currents, particulates and the jet stream.
Nature recordings from named places with coordinates attached, so you know exactly which rainforest you are sitting in.
Thousands of public webcams pointed at squares, harbours, volcanoes and building sites, some with archives stretching back decades.
The 2001 humour portal that somehow still updates, with the same mix of clips, pictures and questionable taste.
Interactive classroom illusions you can drag, toggle and pause, which makes the effects considerably harder to dismiss.
Drag left and right to slap a man in the face with an eel, at whatever speed the day seems to call for.
The carbon intensity of the grid across most of the world, coloured by how clean each country's electricity happens to be at this minute.
A museum of Google easter eggs that Google removed — gravity, the barrel roll, the mirrored search — all restored and working.
A fantasy city builder with elves, humans and a genuine research tree, played entirely in a browser tab and unusually pretty.
One sincere, specific compliment per click, written by people rather than generated. For days that have not gone well.
Enormous archive of emoji strings, kaomoji and text arrangements, searchable by whatever you are trying to say.
Every Google emoji mashup, searchable — pick two and get the official illustrated hybrid back as a PNG.
Upload a photograph and it rebuilds the entire thing out of emoji, colour-matched one tile at a time.
Shows you an emoji and starts a timer while you run round the room pointing your phone camera at the real object.
Search, click, paste, with nothing else on the page competing for attention, which is precisely the point.
Two emoji in, one hybrid out, with a randomiser for when you cannot decide which pairing to ruin next.
Every emoji with its meaning, its history and how it renders on each platform. Settles arguments in one link.
A simulated 1990s desktop with a working browser, games and applications, assembled as a preservation project rather than a joke.
The professional encyclopedia, still going, and a useful second opinion whenever Wikipedia gets contested.
An ASCII horse whose legs continue for as long as you are willing to keep scrolling, which is longer than you think.
Twenty-five years of accidentally poetic English on packaging and signage, photographed across East Asia.
A daily firehose of new escape games from Japanese and indie developers, with walkthroughs in the comments for when you stall.
Fifty million digitised items from European museums, libraries and archives, behind one search box.
Halo-styled arena shooter running in WebGL, with vehicles, sniping and remarkably few visible compromises.
Thousands of strangers claim to have dreamt the same face. Read the whole thing: the explanation is better than the hoax.
A scatterplot of six thousand music genres you have never heard of, each one clickable for a sample and a list of its bands.
All 2^122 version-four UUIDs listed in order with a working search box, on a page that should not be able to exist.
Obsessive gallery of what strangers keep in their pockets, photographed from above and argued over at remarkable length.
Infinite pixel canvas anybody can paint on live, with no undo, no brief and no moderation queue worth mentioning.
Found VHS footage cut into collages by a collective that also owns most of the world's remaining copies of Jerry Maguire.
Writing community from 1999 where each subject gets personal essays instead of an encyclopaedia entry, and the tone never settles.
Design a creature from joints and muscles, then watch a genetic algorithm spend hundreds of generations teaching it to limp.
Idle evolution from primordial soup to interstellar empire, with dozens of species branches and an enormous technology tree.
Hand-drawn-looking diagrams that somehow stay legible, with live collaboration and no account. The whiteboard for people who hate whiteboards.
One button, one detour. Press it as often as you like.