Collection
Free, immediately usable and not interested in your email address. A shrinking category, which is why it gets its own page.
1,232 sites · page 6 of 26
An avatar library where you can dial through a dozen illustration styles and copy the result straight out as an image.
A tank shooting polygons for experience, then branching down a surprisingly deep upgrade tree, from the maker of Agar.io.
Paste two blocks of text and get a colour-coded diff back immediately. Also handles PDFs, images and spreadsheets.
One search across thousands of American libraries, archives and museums, with curated exhibitions layered on top.
The same six panels of clip-art dinosaurs every day since 2003, with entirely different words in them each time.
A browsable index of every named dinosaur, with size comparisons and the period each one actually belonged to.
The catalogue of every physical release ever pressed, down to matrix numbers and pressing variants, plus what your copy is worth.
Machine learning journal where every paper is an interactive diagram; publication has stopped, the back catalogue has not aged.
Turns any image into one-bit dithered grain, with a choice of classic algorithms and a two-colour palette picker.
Dithering aimed squarely at the chunky, ugly end of the spectrum, with palettes lifted from old hardware.
Serious dithering workbench with dozens of algorithms, custom palettes, live preview and a video mode as well.
Runs a standard or extended check to reveal which servers actually saw your DNS lookups. The quickest way to catch a VPN not doing its job.
A timer that counts how long you manage to do nothing at all. Move the mouse, press a key, or scroll and it starts again from zero.
Crowdsourced content warnings covering a hundred-odd specific triggers, so you can check beforehand rather than find out during.
Mine dogecoin with a shiba inu until you can afford to buy the moon. The year 2014, preserved in fully playable form.
A 1996 US presidential campaign website, still up, still exactly as it was. An accidental museum of early political web design.
Hundreds of dress-up games covering mythology, history and fandoms, drawn by actual artists rather than an asset pipeline.
An interface that forbids clicking entirely and makes you navigate by hovering, which is far stranger than it sounds.
A curated DOS library with working touch controls, which makes it the rare emulator front end that is usable on a phone.
Pixel canvas designed for thumbs first, fed by a huge stream of daily themed drawings from a mostly Japanese community.
Team drawing race: two teams, one word, and the first side to guess it takes the round. Faster and shoutier than the alternatives.
Full flowchart, floorplan and network-diagram editor that saves to your own drive and has never once asked anyone for money.
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.
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.
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.