Ten minutes to kill

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.

A 1996 US presidential campaign website, still up, still exactly as it was. An accidental museum of early political web design.

An interface that forbids clicking entirely and makes you navigate by hovering, which is far stranger than it sounds.

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.

One button, one endless right angle, one car sliding off the edge of the world. The purest possible drifting 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.

Gamified courses in dozens of languages, plus the guilt engine keeping most people's streaks technically alive.

A rotating globe with every wind current on Earth drawn as moving lines, and layers underneath for ocean currents, particulates and the jet stream.

Thousands of public webcams pointed at squares, harbours, volcanoes and building sites, some with archives stretching back decades.

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.

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.

An ASCII horse whose legs continue for as long as you are willing to keep scrolling, which is longer than you think.

Thousands of strangers claim to have dreamt the same face. Read the whole thing: the explanation is better than the hoax.

All 2^122 version-four UUIDs listed in order with a working search box, on a page that should not be able to exist.

Search any Android app and see the tracking libraries baked into it. The results for the popular ones are routinely grim.

Paste a terrifying shell command and it pulls the whole thing apart, annotating every flag from the relevant man page.

The largest collection of live nature cams anywhere: bear falls, puppy rooms, osprey nests and coral reefs, all free and always running.

Home of the GROW games, where you choose an order for a handful of objects and then watch a tiny world assemble or fail.

Ugly, ancient, and still better than everything else at cutting, resizing, reversing and optimising a GIF.

Full-screen fake update screens for every operating system, including the blue one, with a bar that never finishes.

Three infinite layers of colour falling forever over a low drone, from the net artist behind half the web's cult toys.

Accurately drawn birds swearing at each other about territory, mating and the general indignity of being a bird.

Who was born today, ranked by fame, drawn from a database heavy with teenagers famous on exactly one platform.

A fidget spinner you flick with the mouse, with physics good enough that people leave it running in a spare tab.

A voice shouts COW louder as your cursor gets closer to an invisible cow, and that is the entire game.

Searches the web for actual sound files by keyword, in a layout untouched since roughly 2003. Still the fastest route to a duck quack.

A toy about synchronisation — a few hundred blinking dots that agree on a rhythm with no conductor anywhere.

A flag revealed six squares at a time, which sounds straightforward until you meet the fourth consecutive tricolour.

The pipe game its own creator pulled from the app stores for being too addictive, rebuilt and still ruining afternoons.

Flight tracking with the operational detail attached: delays, diversions, taxi times and the filed route rather than a tidy curve.

Every aircraft in the sky right now on one map. Click any of them for the route, the aircraft type and how far it still has to go.

A browser home screen with a clock, timer, lofi and a to-do list, arranged to look calmer than your actual desktop.

Paint with thick wet oils that pile up, smear and catch the light exactly like the real thing, entirely in a browser tab.

Suggests font pairings from a model trained on type, with locks so you can hold one face and reroll the other.

Three dishes a day and you name the country that cooks them, which teaches more about world cuisine than it means to.

Plays tracks that nobody has ever streamed, not once. The play counter is the whole point, and the music is exactly as advertised.