Ten minutes to kill

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.

Native speakers pronouncing individual words in hundreds of languages, for when a phonetic spelling is not enough.

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

The 1978 electronic memory toy rebuilt faithfully in a browser tab, still beating most grown adults somewhere around level twelve.

A grid of small games and nothing else — no descriptions, no ratings, no explanation, exactly as it was in 2010.

A search engine that strips every result down to plain HTML so it can be read on a genuinely ancient computer. Also very fast.

Every symbol, alphabet and text decoration you might want to paste somewhere, organised well enough to find one.

A daily gleaning of curiosities, lateral puzzles and pleasing coincidences, kept up since 2005 without fuss.

Conway's cellular automaton with a library of known patterns, still the clearest demonstration that rules alone make worlds.

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

A large casual portal aimed squarely at people who want a match-three game and no further conversation about it.

Twenty-odd fake hacking interfaces — agency mainframes, terminals, satellite maps — with buttons that fill progress bars.

A three-by-three grid of geographic categories where you name one country per cell and get scored on how obscure it was.

Plain page of every emoji, grouped and clickable, for the machines that have no emoji keyboard worth using.

A search engine for animated GIFs recovered from GeoCities. Type any word and receive several spinning versions of it.

The GIF search engine everything else plugs into, still the fastest route to the exact reaction you have in mind.

The same cruelty as QWOP, applied to climbing: every handhold is a different letter key and you have to hold several at once.

One mystery country a day, guessed by warmth — every wrong answer shades the globe a little closer to the right one.

Name three bands you like, then answer yes or no to its guesses until it works out what you are actually in the mood for.

Full-disc satellite imagery of the Americas straight from the GOES satellites, refreshed every few minutes at absurd resolution.

Drive a golf ball absurd distances, upgrade the swing, repeat until the ball is leaving the atmosphere entirely.

Family Fortunes played against Google autocomplete, which turns out to be a bleaker and much funnier opponent than a studio audience.

Chart how often a phrase appears in books since 1500, which settles a surprising number of arguments outright.

Small library of ready-made gradients you nudge by dragging the angle, then copy straight into a stylesheet.

Draw a horse, then watch it gallop off to join the herd of terrible horses drawn by everybody else.

Choose ten items in the right order and the cube blossoms into something absurd; choose the wrong order and it sulks at you.

Look at a scatter plot and guess its correlation coefficient. A statistics lecture disguised as a slot machine, and it works.

A daily video game identified from progressively less obscure screenshots, with six guesses and a genuinely cruel first frame.

Mash any keys and perfectly formatted code appears character by character, exactly as in every hacking scene ever filmed.

Generates blobs, waves, stacked layers and low-poly grids as SVG, all of them tweakable and all free to export.

Vector halftone generator that rebuilds an image out of dots, lines or waves and exports it as clean SVG.

Mr Doob's sketching toy, where strokes web themselves together with connecting threads and turn scribbles into shading.

One word of reassurance about the Large Hadron Collider, maintained since 2008 and still, reassuringly, saying no.

Type an email address and find out which breaches it turned up in. Troy Hunt's index now covers billions of leaked accounts.

Tells you exactly when the space station will pass over your garden, and which direction to look.

Shoot the alien whose colour matches the hex code shown. Learning to read hex by sight is an accidental side effect.

Falling blocks rotated onto a hexagon and sped up, which sounds like a novelty and turns out to be genuinely hard.

Placeholder text made of artisanal nonsense, optionally cut with real Latin for clients who prefer not to notice.

Every event on Wikipedia plotted as a dot across fourteen billion years, filterable down to one category at a time.

Full-text search across every Hacker News story and comment, filterable by date and points. Find the thread where a famous project first appeared.

Reaction time, sequence memory, the chimp test and verbal memory, each scored against millions of other people's attempts.

Spot the serif among the sans-serifs before the timer runs out. Ten seconds long and disproportionately stressful.

Overlays one country on another to scale, then works out how your life expectancy, income and odds of various things would change there.