It has only been partially archived.

I can't tell you how much of my school time I wasted on that old website. It was my entry point for a lot of the early 00s internet culture. Screamer game pranks, chain letters, flash games. Hell, it was even where I saw a woman naked for the first time. This was a time when plain html/css could get you a massive following and I'd come to it via the same old regular route of word-of-mouth. A middle school buddy showed me a flash game on it and I started exploring from there.

Maybe it's because I'm a mid-30s dad with too much on his plate and more than a fair share of existential crises, but I really miss that time. I miss an internet where people spoke freely and your opinions weren't filtered through a god-machine before being dribbled out to people in a way that made sure that the effect of your words wasn't counter to the projected direction of The State.

The US Revolution couldn't happen today. What was once the realm of pubs and pamphlets has become entirely the domain of government-influenced algorithms. Any hint of deviancy is sniffed out and stamped down at the literal speed of light. There was a time when I viewed the internet as the great equalizer, equivalent in effect to the release of the Colt pistol or the invention of the printing press. Instead, what we got was the worst of all societies that preceded us.

It's cliché to say, but you don't get that these days. And the frustrating part is that the entire problem is man made. The technology exists in droves. There are static site generators like Hugo and Zola fighting over each other to claim the top spot as the best static site generator. VPS providers will rent you a server for something like 3 dollars a month in some cases. It would be hilariously less difficult to bring back what we used to have than it was to build it the first time; and yet, here we are.

Going back to the old web has a liminal feel to it. I feel like I'm standing in a stadium hours after the game was over. It has already been played and the crowds filed out. There's trash on the ground and the air still smells like hotdogs and body odor. Hours ago, I would have had to plug my ears to avoid hearing damage and now my steps echo off of bare concrete. There's a few of us out there still; mulling around and remembering the old days. Nobody says we have to leave. Why can't we play our own game?