A minute

Put one worry into a star and watch it shrink into the distance over sixty seconds. Faintly ridiculous, reliably effective.

Type in the thing you are stressed about, watch it shrink into a distant star over sixty seconds, then close the tab.

Type a phrase and watch every film clip in which somebody says it, cut back to back until the words stop meaning anything.

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

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

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

A shelf of harmless fake screens — cracked display, virus alert, retro desktop — meant for a colleague's unattended laptop.

A fake desktop of virus warnings, satellite feeds and password crackers, all keyboard-mashable in full screen.

The colour-word interference test as the real psychology experiment rather than a quiz-site imitation, with your data at the end.

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

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

Four keys drive the four thigh and calf muscles of one Olympic sprinter, and none of them cooperate. The original rage game.

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

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

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.

Every train on the British network with the signalling data attached: which loop it was held in, where it lost four minutes and why.

Reaction time, visual memory, number span and typing speed, each scored against everyone else who has taken it.

A hundred yes-or-no questions about things you may have done, counted downward from 100. A student rite of passage since the 1980s.

Two-button duel on a rooftop where recoil, rather than aim, decides which of you falls off the building first.

Conservation campaign for a cephalopod that lives in trees, used for over twenty years to teach children about checking sources.

Drag one slider from quantum foam to the cosmic web, with every object in between labelled at its true size.

Find one to twenty-five scattered across a grid, in order, against the clock. The standard peripheral-vision and attention drill.

Rough sketch in, finished image out, with the result following your actual lines rather than politely ignoring them.

Word association against a machine: type anything semantically close to the target and the block clears. Tetris rules, meaning as the mechanic.

One piano, several people, one link — everybody's keys light up in a different colour and it descends into noise fast.

A daily high-resolution photograph from the early twentieth century, usually with commenters identifying the buildings.

Ragdoll obstacle course whose entire design goal is taking your stickman apart in an inventive new way each level.

Enter any two articles and get every shortest path of links between them, drawn as a graph you can drag.

The custom emoji every workplace eventually accumulates, downloadable as a pack. The party parrot is in there.

Roll a ball down an endless neon slope at rising speed until the geometry wins, which it always eventually does.

Three-minute kart deathmatches with weapon crates and absolutely no patience for anything resembling a racing line.

Two-legged football played with a single key, in which the physics engine scores most of the actual goals.

Klondike that loads in under a second, with nothing on the page except green baize and the cards.

Grid sequencer with a marimba and a drum kit, tuned so that anything you tap sounds passable, then shared as a link.

The South Park character maker that has been running since 1999 and still gets updated with props from new episodes.

Ride a lift from the ground to geostationary orbit, passing every layer of atmosphere and satellite on the way.

Code typing drills across a dozen languages, where the indentation is handled for you and the punctuation certainly is not.

NASA's tracker for when the space station is visible from where you live, with sighting alerts by email.

Constructive journalism collected from other outlets into one free feed, so somebody else does all the sifting.

Compress an image with a live before-and-after slider and every codec knob exposed. Runs entirely in the browser, so nothing is uploaded.

Swing a stick figure between grapple points using one button, then trust momentum to carry the mistake.

A word search with a theme you have to deduce first, and one spangram threading corner to corner through the grid.

The endless runner that ate mobile gaming, in a browser tab with the trains, the hoverboards and the shouting guard intact.

Drop fruit into a box, merge matching pairs and watch the pile creep towards the line. Physics does the rest of the work.

Tick off what is genuinely in your cupboards and it ranks the recipes you can make right now, with nothing missing.

Name something you liked and it returns things with the same texture, spanning films, books, music and games at once.

A collaborative database of example sentences translated across languages, better than any dictionary for context.