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Millions of uploaded Minecraft skins plus an editor, which is the closest thing that game has ever had to a fashion scene.

Ripped sprite sheets from thousands of games, sorted by console — half reference library, half nostalgia trap.

A crime you solve by writing database queries, and easily the least painful SQL tutorial ever built.

A team counted every squirrel in Central Park and published the data, the maps and a full illustrated report on the findings.

Cecil Adams' archive of exhaustively answered daft questions, invented decades before you could just ask the internet.

Drag countries across the Mercator projection and watch Greenland shrink to its actual size. Settles the argument in about ten seconds.

A free course that starts on the home row and builds up, with keyboard layouts for whichever language you actually type in.

Flick the switch on. A small hand reaches out and turns it off again. That is the entire website and it is somehow enough.

One button, one random pointless website, no explanation offered or needed. The site that turned this whole genre into a genre.

Type anything at all and watch it drift upward and dissolve. Nothing is stored, nothing is sent, nothing can be recovered.

Nearly a trillion saved web pages. Paste any address, pick a year, and see what was there — the single most important archive online.

Race from one Wikipedia article to another using only links, against a clock and other people online.

One family documenting Chinese home cooking across two generations, with real detail on ingredients and what you can substitute.

A painting that zooms into itself forever, assembled by a dozen artists so carefully that the seams never quite show.

Live positions and finder charts for planets, comets and asteroids, updated continuously and free of clutter.

Aggregates hundreds of critics' polls into a ranked thousand greatest films. Deeply unfashionable design, entirely unmatched rigour.

Pour coloured sand into layered dunes with the mouse, which is considerably more absorbing than it has any right to be.

Daily gift catalogue for things nobody needs, and the reason several of your friends own a novelty tap they never use.

Fifty years of home renovation broken into how-tos, with actual tradespeople explaining why the obvious shortcut fails.

One photorealistic portrait of somebody who has never existed, regenerated on every refresh. The page that started the whole genre.

Invented dictionary entries complete with etymology and a usage example, none of them real words. Several of them deserve to be.

Superhot's trick in a browser: time only moves when you do, so every room becomes a slow-motion puzzle with guns.

A photograph from the last century that you place on both a map and a timeline, which is much harder than either alone.

Wikipedia's calmly written schedule of everything still to happen, ending long after the last star has gone out.

Reverse image search that finds the oldest copy of a picture rather than visually similar ones. The tool for tracing where a photo began.

Cast, catch, sell, upgrade the line, cast deeper. The loop is completely transparent and it still takes forty minutes off you.

A rescue that livestreams its foster kittens and feral colonies around the clock, with vets narrating in the chat.

Drag in PNGs and JPEGs, get them back visibly identical and roughly seventy per cent smaller. Twenty files at a time, free.

One line of maths drives a sixteen-by-sixteen grid of dots, and the gallery of what people fit into that line is humbling.

The outlet that breaks the story first and considers taste afterwards, with a documented record of being right.

Reddit's fact firehose, where each post is one verified surprise with the source link attached underneath.

Scanned cereal boxes going back decades, with full career histories for the mascots, maintained purely for its own sake.

The onion router straight from the people who maintain it — the browser download plus a plain-English account of how the relays work.

Tap any key in rhythm and it plays the next chunk of Clair de Lune, so timing is the only skill actually required.

Match-three fused with tower defence, so every swap you make is also the wave you are currently surviving.

Click to place a block and a small algorithm builds a plausible seaside town around it, with no goal of any kind.

Paste a single screenshot and it names the anime, the episode and the exact timestamp. Unreasonably accurate for something free.

Guess the country from a treemap of what it exports, which turns out to be an oddly precise national fingerprint.

Bounces a sentence between English and Japanese until the two versions agree, which they rarely do politely.

Get from one country to another by naming every country in between, with the shortest workable route scoring best.

Drops you into a field recording from a forest somewhere on earth, tells you which forest, then offers you another.

Bridge, euchre, hearts and spades against bots or friends, on a table that behaves the way a real one does.

Send tiny creatures up an infinite tower, die, come back stronger. Years of content behind an interface that gives no quarter.

Raw model output laid out for people who want to read the charts themselves, and the page hurricane watchers keep open all August.

Australia's national archive of newspapers, websites and photographs, digitised back to 1803 and open without an account.

The big one: broadcast radio, sport and podcasts from most of the world, free with adverts and no account needed to listen.

Fly down a rotating tunnel of coloured obstacles quickly enough that your eyes take over the steering from your brain.

Write a Turing machine in a few lines and watch the tape head shuffle back and forth carrying it out.