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Ancient Web: TEXTFILES.COM Saved the Under Construction GIF

There was a time when admitting your website was unfinished required a tiny animated construction worker, a striped barricade, several flashing lights, and perhaps a bulldozer that looked like it had been drawn during lunch.

Visit the Under Construction collection

TEXTFILES.COM preserved thousands of these graphics in one gloriously unreasonable pile.

The Under Construction banner was one of the defining visual habits of the personal Web. A page owner would add one while building a new section, redesigning a homepage, or simply acknowledging that whatever was there was not yet done.

Which, in retrospect, was refreshingly accurate.

Modern websites silently change underneath users. The old Web put on a hard hat and announced the mess.

Archivist Jason Scott discussed this collection during his DEF CON 19 talk about web preservation. He described having around ten thousand Under Construction images and joked that putting all of them on one page could crash browsers. The absurd scale is the point: these were not one standard icon copied everywhere. People remixed the idea endlessly.

There were workers digging. Workers hammering. Rotating road signs. Blinking warning lights. Skeletons. Cartoon characters. Heavy equipment. Flaming text. Objects of uncertain purpose moving back and forth forever because animated GIF technology had arrived and restraint had not.

What looks like kitsch now was also a shared visual language.

A newcomer did not need instructions. Yellow-and-black stripes meant the page was still being built. The graphic connected millions of unrelated homepages through a visual convention that nobody’s design system had approved.

That is why the collection matters in 2026.

An archive of page graphics preserves a part of Internet history that screenshots and text dumps miss. HTML tells you what links existed. The GIFs tell you what the place felt like.

The same little files continue turning up in modern retro sites, software documentation, art projects, and essays about early web culture. They survived because people remember them immediately even when they cannot remember the homepage where they first saw one.

CacheRat’s 1,967 Ancient Web Domains research list exists for this same reason: the interesting material is often not the famous site itself but the strange supporting ecosystem around it.

The Internet is permanently under construction now.

We just stopped putting up the sign.

Enter the Under Construction GIF pile

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Ancient Web: GifCities Turns GeoCities GIFs Into a Search Engine

GeoCities left behind enough blinking buttons, flaming logos, spinning skulls, dancing babies, and under-construction signs to build a search engine out of the wreckage.

Visit GifCities

GifCities is an Internet Archive project built from the GeoCities material preserved when Yahoo shut most of the service down in 2009. The Archive’s crawl contained millions of animated GIFs pulled from personal pages that had accumulated since GeoCities began in 1994.

For GifCities, the Archive extracted more than 4.5 million animated GIF files, representing roughly 1.6 million unique images.

That is a lot of tiny fire.

The original version launched in 2016 for the Internet Archive’s twentieth anniversary. Search worked through filenames and text recovered from directory paths, so asking for something like dragon, email, welcome, or construction could surface graphics whose old filenames still carried some clue about what they were supposed to be.

Each result links back toward the preserved GeoCities page it came from when that context is available.

The decoration became the data

The useful thing about GifCities is that it treats page decoration as historical material instead of junk surrounding the “real” content.

GeoCities users built with whatever they had. Animated GIFs were interface, personality, navigation, advertising, fandom, identity, and occasionally visual assault. A page about a favorite band might have glittering separators. A family homepage might use an animated mailbox for email. A game site might have a skull that existed for no reason beyond somebody thinking the skull looked cool.

Those choices tell you what personal publishing looked like when ordinary users were assembling pages one image at a time.

The project has since gained a newer interface with semantic search and tools for assembling GIF compositions, but the basic archaeological trick remains wonderfully simple: take the decorative fragments that survived and make them searchable.

Modern design systems tend to reduce websites to reusable components chosen from the same small vocabulary. GeoCities often went the other direction. If somebody found a spinning globe with the wrong colors and a transparent background that looked terrible on navy blue, the spinning globe was going on the page.

CacheRat’s 1,967 Ancient Web Domains research list includes surviving sites from the same broad era. GifCities is useful alongside that kind of research because it exposes the visual vocabulary surrounding the pages themselves.

Millions of old GIFs survived.

Apparently the Web had excellent redundancy for dancing bananas.

Search the GeoCities GIF archive

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Ancient Web: The World of Kaoani Cataloged 3,685 Tiny Animated Emoticons

There are old websites with a few animated GIFs, and then there is Ik’ Ilote’s World of Kaoani, which announces without apology that it contains 3,685 of them.

Visit the World of Kaoani

Kaoani are tiny animated pixel-art emoticons that became especially common in anime, forum, blog, and personal-page culture during the late 1990s and early 2000s.

They bounce. They float. They cry. They wave. They cosplay. They become cats, rabbits, pandas, flowers, devils, angels, Pokémon, blobs, and things that are difficult to classify without inventing a new category.

This site did exactly that.

A library built for copying

The archive is not merely a gallery.

Its thousands of images are sorted into named families and subgroups with counts for each section. The English index includes categories for animals, Chibi characters, angels, cats, rabbits, pandas, flowers, stars, cursors, cosplay, colored sets, and dozens of named character families.

Individual pages provide the actual image along with code snippets for embedding it.

There is plain HTML, XHTML, BBCode, and the site’s own Ik’ Code format.

That detail is the important part.

These GIFs were not primarily meant to be admired inside the archive. They were meant to leave.

The site asks visitors who take smileys to link back, and it invites people to submit Kaoani that are missing from the collection. That is classic old-web circulation: collect a file, paste a snippet into your own page or forum signature, credit the source, and spread the visual language outward.

The result is a catalog of the pre-platform reaction image.

Before emoji keyboards standardized a relatively small vocabulary, people assembled emotion from whatever tiny animated file they could find.

CacheRat’s 1,967 Ancient Web Domains research list includes graphics archives like this because they preserve the actual portable objects people used to decorate and communicate online.

Three thousand six hundred eighty-five little bouncing faces is not restraint.

It is infrastructure.

Return to the World of Kaoani