📼 Nostalgic

Coin-operated arcade cabinets from the seventies onward, emulated in a tab, attract mode and all.

A student sold a million pixels of advertising at a dollar each in 2005. The mosaic is still up, and most of the links now go nowhere.

The listing that has catalogued live text MUDs since 1994, and still tells you which of them have people logged in tonight.

A proxy that serves archived pages as period browsers expected them, so a 1998 machine can still get online and see 1998.

A hand-maintained index of free books online, run out of Penn since before search engines were any good.

Millions of uploaded Minecraft skins plus an editor, which is the closest thing that game has ever had to a fashion scene.

Ripped sprite sheets from thousands of games, sorted by console — half reference library, half nostalgia trap.

Cecil Adams' archive of exhaustively answered daft questions, invented decades before you could just ask the internet.

Nearly a trillion saved web pages. Paste any address, pick a year, and see what was there — the single most important archive online.

A photograph from the last century that you place on both a map and a timeline, which is much harder than either alone.

Scanned cereal boxes going back decades, with full career histories for the mascots, maintained purely for its own sake.

The browser strategy game half your school was awake at 3am for, still running, still fundamentally about raiding villages.

Medieval village building and tribe politics from 2003, where the real game is coordinating twenty players inside a spreadsheet.

Australia's national archive of newspapers, websites and photographs, digitised back to 1803 and open without an account.

The British Library's record of the UK web, collected under legal deposit — including sites their owners deleted years ago.

Home-taped VHS uploaded wholesale to the Internet Archive, adverts, tracking lines and accidental recordings included.

Well over a hundred thousand scanned advertisements sorted by decade and subject. A very direct record of what people were told to want.

Forecasts built on a network of tens of thousands of amateur weather stations, so the reading is often from somebody on your actual street.

Screenshots of thousands of websites from 1991 onward, arranged so you can watch entire interface conventions appear and die.

Billions of generated puzzles in a layout untouched since 2005, which is precisely why it still loads before you finish blinking.

Winamp itself, reimplemented faithfully enough that the equaliser works. It really whips the llama's behind, in a browser tab.

Live webcams sorted by country and theme, from Alpine passes to Caribbean beach bars, with a great many pointed at completely empty roads.

Eighty live webcam effects, most of them terrible, all of them fun for exactly the ninety seconds required.

Search engine that indexes hand-made pages only, surfacing the small quiet web the big engines stopped showing you years ago.

Roughly a hundred thousand Winamp skins, all loadable in the browser. An enormous accidental record of amateur graphic design.

A parody desktop that gets progressively stranger the more of its programs you open. Start with the solitaire and keep going.

An operating system that never existed, built in a browser, with its own applications and a genuine sense of its own history.

A working Windows XP desktop in a tab, with Minesweeper, Paint and the startup sound, for pure muscle memory.

Victorian engravings cut apart and given modern dialogue, producing jokes no other format could quite deliver.

Over a hundred solitaire variants with proper undo, statistics and card backs from 2007. Still the most complete one going.

Modern MUD platform with a proper browser client: play the hosted worlds, or build one yourself without touching a server.

Two decades of first-person hauntings submitted by the public, filed by country and picked apart politely in the comments.