Coffee break

The Myers-Briggs-flavoured test everybody has taken, with a four-letter verdict and profile pages that are unnervingly specific.

A directory of blogs and tools that load in under one megabyte, kept as a quiet protest against bloated pages. Every link opens almost instantly.

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

Mahjong solitaire in a dozen layouts with no download and no account, exactly as it was on every family PC in 2004.

A community of personal website makers with tutorials, events and a directory of members' handmade sites to wander between.

The largest archive of 360 panoramas anywhere, pinned to a world map and free to browse, covering plenty of places no Street View car reached.

Grant Sanderson's maths lessons, plus the written versions of the animations that made linear algebra look like geometry.

A ranked list of websites that weigh less than half a megabyte. A tour of the fast, lightweight personal web, sorted from tiniest to merely small.

Seventy statements, four political axes and an ideology label at the end. The open-source template for a hundred imitators.

Windows 98 rebuilt in JavaScript, right down to the window chrome and the sound the error dialogs make.

Photographic essays on ruined institutions that are far more interested in why the places closed than in the broken glass.

Guided write-ups of the city's empty hospitals, airfields and amusement parks, complete with directions and a note on the fence situation.

Twenty-eight escalating trolley dilemmas that end somewhere very silly, each showing the percentage of people who agreed with you.

Thousands of free electronics tutorials with full wiring diagrams and working code. The gentlest on-ramp to microcontrollers there is.

The proper colour wheel — analogous, triadic, split complementary — plus contrast checks for accessibility.

Waterhole cameras in southern African reserves, running since the nineties, where nothing happens for an hour and then everything does.

Aerial 360 panoramas shot from helicopters and drones over volcanoes, cathedrals and Antarctic ice, most of them enormous files worth the wait.

The lab page of the psychologist whose completely static images refuse to stop rotating, added to for over twenty years.

A paused editorial preview that explains the sourcing and publishing controls required before stories return.

Community-built soundscapes of unhinged specificity, including several hundred separate takes on the Hogwarts common room.

An ambient radio station with no announcers, no adverts and nothing that ever resolves, aimed squarely at falling asleep.

Genuine industrial surplus sold with the best product copy on the internet: lab glassware, small motors, and 400 unexplained springs.

Free woodworking plans with cut lists and costed materials, aimed squarely at people who own exactly one saw.

Obsessively detailed database going down to individual episode credits and file hashes. Built for cataloguers, not for browsing.

Modern tracker with a genuinely good interface, per-episode progress and an open API a great many other tools build on.

Upload a child's drawing of a person and it finds the limbs, rigs them and makes the figure dance. Research that turned out purely delightful.

Industry news since 1998, plus an encyclopedia with staff and voice credits that nothing else in the space matches.

Recommendation-led catalogue with if-you-liked-this chains going back to 2001, plus legal streaming links for each title.

Every opening and ending sequence in decent quality, searchable by series or by song. A dangerous tab to open at work.

Multilingual anime, manga and light novel database with unusually careful tagging and full regional release information.

The spaced repetition flashcard system serious learners settle on, with shared decks for nearly every subject.

Apple II software preserved and emulated, including the educational titles that an entire generation met at school.

Seattle's novelty institution: rubber chickens, emergency moustaches and an unreasonable number of items shaped like tinned meat.

Gianni Sarcone's workshop of puzzles and illusions, half optical trickery and half mathematical recreation, running since the 1990s.

Thousands of themed collections built by libraries and museums, each one somebody's deliberate decision about what to keep.

A survivor of the Flash era that converted its best strategy and adventure titles rather than letting them quietly die.

The Portuguese web archive, notable for full-text search across its whole history rather than only address lookup.

Draws boxes, arrows and flowcharts entirely out of monospace characters, for diagrams that live inside code comments.

Recorded terminal sessions replayed as selectable text, genuinely useful to learn from and indistinguishable from real work.

Weekly writing on current transits that assumes you want the mechanics rather than the vibes. Unusually technical for the genre.

Free birth charts, synastry and transit calculators with more configuration options than most paid software. No account required.

The Swiss Ephemeris people: the technical reference the whole field quietly runs on, plus free charts and very long interpretation texts.

Susan Miller's famously long monthly forecasts — several thousand words per sign, published without fail since 1995.

Streams clips uploaded straight from phones with default filenames and no audience, drifting past like a broadcast from nobody.

Long-running Vedic astrology portal with free kundli generation, matchmaking and a daily panchang in several languages.

The AstroTwins' horoscopes and explainers, including a decent plain-English guide to what a transit actually is.

Thousands of educational films saved from the skip — driver safety, dating advice, duck and cover — digitised by one collector.

Two decades of other people's terrible family portraits, submitted willingly and captioned by the people in them.