The preserved Dole Kemp '96 campaign site still shows what a national presidential campaign thought the Web was for in 1996: news, policy, postcards, games, volunteer forms, tax calculators, and a very small screen.
Alex Tew's Million Dollar Homepage sold a 1,000-by-1,000 pixel grid as advertising in 2005 and became a permanent mosaic of the commercial Web at exactly the moment every square was finally sold.
The surviving Dancing Baby site preserves the 1996 animation's original credits, GIFs, production notes, copyright history, and the gloriously strange path from 3D software demo to early Internet phenomenon.
Mike Reed's Flame Warriors turned online arguments into an illustrated field guide of recurring forum personalities, from ALLCAPS and Newbie to Necromancer, Troll, and Profundus Maximus.
Stanford's surviving BackRub page preserves the search project that became Google, including 1996 crawl statistics, hardware notes, programming languages, and Larry Page's description of a web crawler built around links.
Sidetalking preserved the early-2000s joke built around Nokia's original N-Gage phone design: hold almost anything sideways against your head, take a picture, and submit it to the Internet.
A preserved 1994 Mosaic Communications welcome page shows the browser era before basic Web behavior was assumed knowledge, complete with instructions for following hyperlinks, a guided tour, a handbook, and directions for creating Web services.
RinkWorks' Computer Stupidities collected decades of tech-support mishaps, user mistakes, urban legends, and painfully believable stories from the era when ordinary people were still learning what computers expected from them.
Joe Siegler's Dopefish site preserves the history, sketches, screenshots, cameos, jokes, patches, and increasingly improbable afterlife of a Commander Keen enemy that escaped into decades of game-development folklore.
Virginia Shea's 1994 Netiquette became both a book and an online reference for email, discussion groups, privacy, flame wars, electronic style, and the basic problem of remembering that people on the network are still people.
A 1995-era personal web page turned a pile of old Band-Aid boxes found in a Northern California garage into a tiny packaging museum, then kept accumulating reader submissions, company history, family corrections, and vintage commercials.
PaperCDCase.com has been generating printable fold-up CD sleeves since 2001, complete with track listings, addresses, graphics, disc lookup, and technical notes from the era of FreeBSD 4, PHP, Perl CGI, FreeDB, and Acrobat browser plugins.
DigiCamHistory.com has been documenting the path from film cameras to early digital photography since 2001, with a deliberate focus on the pre-1999 hardware that mainstream camera sites usually skipped once digital photography exploded.
2600 Magazine's surviving Hacked Sites Archive preserves dated captures of website defacements from the late 1990s and 2000, turning what were temporary intrusions into a rough visual record of early Web security culture.
Wunderland.com preserves the sprawling late-1990s web home of Andy and Kristin Looney: games, fiction, photos, art projects, recipes, weekly news, strange merchandise, and the early Internet life of the company that made Fluxx.
Mewbies' Fun on the Terminal page catalogs public Telnet oddities: ASCII Star Wars, BOFH excuses, Telehack, MUDs, MUCKs, games, and enough command-line instructions to get a curious user into systems most of the modern Web forgot.
SaveWalterWhite.com began as Walter Jr.'s deliberately amateur fundraising page inside Breaking Bad, then AMC put the site online for real and used its donation button to send viewers to a cancer charity.
Longc.at preserves one of the purest artifacts of imageboard-era Internet culture: a page whose entire purpose is to make the already-long Longcat image absurdly, browser-breakingly longer.
WebHamster preserves the original-style Hampster Dance experience: rows of tiny animated rodents and the looping audio that helped turn a simple GeoCities page into one of the Web's earliest mass-distributed memes.
DialUpSound.com does one thing: plays a real recording of a computer connecting to dial-up Internet, preserving the handshake noise that once announced the beginning of an online session.