Feels like magic

The forecast as an animated map, with wind, waves, temperature and a dozen models to argue between, free and without an account.

Thousands of interactive maths and science notebooks contributed over two decades, each one a single slider-driven idea.

Victorian engravings cut apart and given modern dialogue, producing jokes no other format could quite deliver.

Crazy golf on a floating landscape that unfolds into a new course between shots. Worth playing for the transitions alone.

Renders your text in every font installed on the machine at once, which is the fastest way ever devised to pick one.

Guess the country from its silhouette alone, with each miss handing you the distance and compass bearing to the real answer.

Live counters for population, emissions, water use and books published, ticking faster than is entirely comfortable.

A browser planetarium stitched from real survey data, letting you pan the whole sky in visible light, infrared or radio.

Real-time fractal zoomer ported to the browser, smooth enough that the boundary keeps unfolding as fast as you dive.

Stick figures on romance, sarcasm, maths and language, with a second joke in the alt text of every single strip.

Widely reckoned the strongest reverse image search for faces, places and heavily cropped photos. Worth trying when TinEye finds nothing.

Unicode styling for places that forbid formatting, so bold and italic survive a paste into a profile bio.

A stubbornly plain German server hosting hundreds of turn-based Euro games, free and ad-free since long before that was a stance.

Draw mirrors and walls, then let a raytracer slowly paint the light bouncing between them until the image resolves.

Feeds your own video call bad audio — echo, crying baby, wind — until everyone agrees the connection is the problem.

The sequel quilt, darker and stranger than the first, still folding into itself with no end and no explanation.