🎪 Chaotic

Dice-based territory conquest at a table of five strangers, where what happens in the chat matters more than the actual odds.

Blocky arena shooter with skins, ranked play and lobbies that fill in under ten seconds at any hour.

A tidy portal of casual browser games with an unusual amount of care given to which ones are actually finished.

Class-based arena shooter with grenades and blocky maps, running smoothly on a work laptop that struggles with spreadsheets.

A voxel arena shooter that holds a high frame rate in a browser tab, with custom lobbies, a map editor and no install.

Looks like a plain platformer until the floor vanishes, the ceiling drops and the exit walks away. Trolling you is the actual mechanic.

Car leasing sold via the loudest website ever built — animated GIFs, a theme-park aesthetic, and a real business underneath it.

The same ramp-covered playground with strangers in it, all attempting the same enormous jump and all missing it.

An empty city full of ramps and supercars with no objectives at all, which turns out to be the entire objective.

Everyone captions the same image, then votes on the best one. Rounds are short and a group works out its own humour quickly.

Runs an image through the exact stack of saturation, JPEG damage and stray emoji that makes a meme look reposted eight times.

Decades of archived puzzle hunts from the hardest annual competition of its kind, all of it still playable.

Chop wood, raise windmills, then defend them from players who would much rather take yours than build their own.

Time-trial motorbike stunts across levels engineered to kill you in a slightly funnier way on each attempt.

One piano keyboard shared by everybody currently online, producing either a Chopin nocturne or an immediate car crash.

The largest soundboard on the web with a search box, which makes it either a toy or a workplace hazard.

The chaotic original, still hosting animation and games uploaded since 1999, and still the least sanitised corner of the web.

The pop-tart cat, the rainbow and the song, with a counter for how many seconds of your life you have handed over.

The LiveJournal community that outlived LiveJournal, still posting celebrity news with the comment threads doing the work.

A million checkboxes shared by everyone at once. Ticking them was pointless right up until people started writing messages in binary.

The souped-up fork of the infinite text canvas, with colour, links and long-running territory disputes conducted entirely in ASCII.

Build sundaes to order under mounting time pressure, the most polished entry in a series about the dignity of service work.

The original of the Papa's series, where tips fund your upgrades and customers absolutely notice an undercooked base.

Claim territory by driving loops around it while everyone else tries to clip your tail before you make it home.

Race a crowd of runners up a rooftop obstacle course where the only real skill is jumping at the right half-second.

Every letter on the keyboard fires a sound and a matching shape, and mashing the whole row is the correct way to use it.

Penalty shootouts through a whole tournament, against a keeper who reads your run-up better than you would like.

Airtight's glitch lab, stacking VHS tracking errors, pixel sorting and RGB shift over a photo, a clip or your webcam.

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

A twenty-year-old particle sandbox where wind, fire, magma and ice all interact, with thousands of saved player scenes.

The sequel, with proper solid objects and adjustable gravity, and a public save gallery going back well over a decade.

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.

Full-screen fake terminals, fake updates and fake system alerts. Harmless, closeable with Escape, and very funny on a colleague's screen.

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

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

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

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

Loose-surface rally driving where every corner is taken sideways, largely because there is no other way to take them.

Leaves a trail of emoji behind your cursor. There is nothing more to it than that, and nothing more is needed.

Low-poly team shooter with tanks and jetpacks, free and playable the moment the page finishes loading.

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

A falling-sand game with several hundred materials that all react properly, including a dozen ways to end the world by mistake.

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

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

A no-frills portal unusually strong on two-player games you can play on one keyboard with somebody sitting next to you.

A better-drawn take on the guess-the-doodle format, with more brushes, custom word lists and rooms that hold a large group.

Draw the word, guess everyone else's, share one link with the group. The default browser party game, and deservedly so.