Good on a phone

Every Poe story and poem with annotations, a timeline and a vocabulary tool, kept by one enthusiast since the early web.

Hand-listed index of useless websites, sorted into categories so you can choose your waste of time rather than roll for it.

A noughts-and-crosses grid where every square needs a Pokemon matching two criteria at once, scored on how obscure your picks were.

Spin up a private poker table and send the link round: no accounts, no downloads and no actual money involved.

Clean, fast and mobile-first, with a front page that reads more like a curated shelf than a dump of everything uploaded.

A pomodoro timer with a task list bolted on, which is roughly the entire feature set anybody actually uses.

A radio station styled as a 1980s Macintosh, playing the sort of music that assumes you are near a pool and not at work.

Deadpan absurdism starring bears, birds and mildly disappointed men, published three times a week since 2008.

A British gossip newsletter of blind items and pop trivia, running since 2000 and still legally very careful.

Click the cat, the cat pops, and every click is added to your country's total in a global leaderboard nobody asked for.

Age pyramids for any country from 1950 to 2100, which settles most demographic arguments in a single shape.

A properly staffed magazine covering what is going right, funded by its readers rather than by outrage.

Thousands of American industrial, educational and advertising films, all public domain and all quietly extraordinary.

Threat-model-first advice from the community that succeeded PrivacyTools, so you pick tools for your actual risk rather than a vibe.

Opinionated lists of privacy-respecting software sorted by category, with stated reasons rather than affiliate links.

Britain's satirical fortnightly, half jokes and half genuine investigative reporting, in print since 1961.

A medieval life simulator where you idle through jobs and skills, die of old age, and are reborn with a small head start.

Seventy thousand public domain books, plain and free, from the oldest digital library on the internet.

The Vedic side of the practice: kundli, dasha periods and panchang, calculated free with the underlying reasoning shown.

A pug in a rug, plus a timer counting exactly how long you have now watched the pug be in the rug.

A cat purr you tune by size, mood and breathing rate, for people who work better with a notional cat on the desk.

The Only Connect connecting wall in thousands of user-made versions: sixteen clues, four groups, two and a half minutes.

Daily nonograms in every size from five squares to fifty, with a timer and no attempt whatsoever at decoration.

Free monthly puzzle sets designed to be solved in a pub, with a decade of archives you can print at home.

A question site where people post original puzzles and strangers solve them properly, with the reasoning shown.

Zach Gage's daily puzzle collection — Cross|word, Flipart, Really Bad Chess — with the best interface in the genre by a distance.

A quantum computing textbook with spaced repetition built into the page, so what you read has a chance of staying.

Five thousand strips of indie-rock relationship comedy with sarcastic robots, updating every weekday since 2003.

Doodle six things in twenty seconds while a neural net shouts guesses at you. The training set it produced now runs to fifty million drawings.

Guided meditation for people who have never meditated, starting at two minutes and never once mentioning chakras.

Take a quiz or build one and send it on. Results are shareable without anybody having to make an account first.

Four Wordle grids solved at the same time with nine shared guesses, which is exactly as stressful as that sounds.

The internet's default supply of small animals doing small things, restocked constantly by thirty million subscribers.

The scene's main feed: databent photos, broken televisions and corrupted video, with the technique usually in the comments.

Crowd-sourced feed of well-made and gloriously pointless websites, and the closest thing left to a modern stumble button.

Photographs of corridors, swimming pools and hotel lobbies with nobody in them, which is far more affecting than that sounds.

Strangers being decent to each other, collected into one feed for the days when every other feed has been too much.

Horror fiction posted as though it were true, under a rule that commenters must play along. The good threads run for weeks.

Steady feed of new illusions with the comments doing the debunking, which is usually half of the entertainment.

Home of the shared pixel canvas where millions of people fought surprisingly politely over a few million squares.

Archive of the experiment where one button and one click each spawned genuine factions, martyrs and a working theology within days.

A community-maintained open database of internet radio streams with no company behind it, which is why the odd little stations survive there.

Spin a globe covered in green dots and drop the needle on a live local station anywhere on Earth. The buffering is part of the charm.

Human-curated and listener-supported, mixed like an album rather than a playlist, at an absurdly high bitrate if you want it.

A tidy directory of tens of thousands of broadcast stations by country, genre and topic, with nothing to sign up for before you press play.

Pick a country and a decade on a world map and hear what people there were actually listening to, curated by humans since 1900.

Two floppy archers, one bow each, and physics that decides the winner considerably more often than aim does.

A browser railway empire where the whole server races to reach the same era of engines before anybody else does.