One more round

The blunt one-minute word test that has served as the internet's default words-per-minute benchmark for over a decade.

Build ramps and walls while shooting, which is Fortnite's endgame extracted, simplified and handed over for free.

Straightforward pool on a proper physics table, against an opponent who punishes a lazy break immediately.

Miniclip's pool game, still the default way to lose imaginary money to a stranger in another country at half past two.

Be a cell, eat smaller cells, flee larger ones and split to ambush. The game that invented this entire genre in 2015.

Click targets as they pop up and get scored in targets per second. Shooter players use it to warm up before a session.

Buy aircraft, plot routes and slowly discover that fuel price is the only variable that ever really mattered.

Games built here rather than embedded from elsewhere — no ads inside the frame and no third party watching you play.

Backgammon against ranked humans, with an analysis pass afterwards that quantifies precisely how reckless your doubles were.

One song revealed a single instrument at a time, six guesses, one puzzle a day. Needs headphones and a decent musical memory.

Run a basketball franchise through thirty simulated seasons in an afternoon: drafts, trades, contracts and ageing, all free.

Two-on-two street basketball stripped back to dunking, blocking and a shot meter you will consistently misjudge.

Several hundred properly licensed board games with the rules enforced for you, so nobody argues about whether that move was legal.

Physics sumo where everybody is a circle, the only verb is shove, and the arena keeps getting smaller until someone falls off.

The Second World War version of the same slow, sprawling map game, with research trees and alliances that rarely survive contact.

Two near-identical interfaces, one of them subtly wrong. Getting past the third level takes an unreasonable amount of care.

The four-day jam game that grew into Celeste: thirty screens of very precise dashing, running in the page at PICO-8 resolution.

Chess tactics training with a rating that goes down, plus an endgame trainer that reveals exactly how much you do not know.

The default chess address for most of the planet, with a bot for every skill level and puzzles that will quietly humble you.

Click monsters, hire heroes to click for you, then ascend for souls. The clicker that dragged the whole genre onto Steam.

Fill-in-the-blank sentences mined from real corpora, aimed squarely at people who have outgrown the beginner apps.

Settlers of Catan in a browser tab, complete with the trade negotiations and the one player who will not give you wheat.

Match hue, saturation and complementary colours against a target, one exercise at a time, scored out of a hundred.

Team deathmatch with a built-in level editor, played mostly by people who memorised every map years ago.

Risk on hundreds of user-drawn maps, played slowly against a community that has been arguing about dice odds since 2006.

Recreate a target image in as few characters of CSS as possible, then watch somebody do it in half as many.

A hundred consecutive interface prompts delivered by email — the sign-up flow, the 404 page, the calculator, day by day.

Space MMO from 2006 still full of people mining, shooting and complaining about the economy, all inside one browser tab.

Fast browser shooter with no account and no download: click, spawn, and get eliminated by somebody considerably better.

Start as a shrimp, eat, evolve into something with teeth, and repeat in an ocean full of players doing exactly the same thing.

Fly a helicopter, wall off territory with towers, then defend the shape you just drew from everybody else.

A tank shooting polygons for experience, then branching down a surprisingly deep upgrade tree, from the maker of Agar.io.

The deck-building game that invented the genre, officially online, with a free rotating selection of kingdom cards.

A curated DOS library with working touch controls, which makes it the rare emulator front end that is usable on a phone.

Isometric hack-and-slash that runs in the browser and does a competent impression of Diablo with nothing to install.

Team drawing race: two teams, one word, and the first side to guess it takes the round. Faster and shoutier than the alternatives.

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.

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.

Halo-styled arena shooter running in WebGL, with vehicles, sniping and remarkably few visible compromises.

The official fantasy football game: free, enormous, and the reason several million people care deeply about a Wolves fixture.

A gentler descendant of Diep.io where you assemble a ring of petals around a flower and farm increasingly rude insects.

Six stills from one film, revealed one at a time. Getting it from the first frame is the only score really worth having.

Competitive FreeCell with timed deals and a global ranking, which should not work as a concept and completely does.

Name the video game from a blurred cover, then a screenshot, then artwork. New puzzle daily and several modes to lose at.

The full arcade — hundreds of browser games sorted by type, all playable immediately with nothing to install.

Top-down shooter with class loadouts and destructible cover, still busy years after everybody stopped writing about it.