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Ancient Web: Neustadt.fr Called the User-Hostile Web Problem in 2017

In 2017, Parimal Satyal took one newspaper article apart and found a useful summary of what had gone wrong with the modern Web: the words were no longer the expensive part.

Read Against an Increasingly User-Hostile Web

Satyal’s essay, Against an Increasingly User-Hostile Web, was published in November 2017. It is partly a history of why he fell in love with the Web, partly a privacy argument, and partly an audit of what web developers had started doing to ordinary readers.

The personal history matters. Satyal writes about growing up in Nepal and making his first website at age eleven. The older Web he describes was not perfect, but its basic machinery was unusually generous: somebody could publish a document, link it to somebody else’s document, and make the result available without asking a platform for permission.

Then he measures the newer version.

For one Le Monde article, Satyal recorded a page weight of about 3.1 MB and 459 HTTP requests. Of those requests, 436 went to third parties. The page contacted 118 third parties and stored 100 cookies. He then rebuilt increasingly stripped-down versions of the same article. The text-only version was 17 KB, made one request, contacted no third parties, and set no cookies.

That comparison is still nasty because it does not require much interpretation. The article itself had become a small passenger inside a much larger tracking and advertising machine.

A webmaster essay that aged annoyingly well

Satyal was not arguing that websites should freeze themselves in 1996. He explicitly acknowledged faster networks, better standards, stronger security, richer media, and the practical reasons modern sites became more complicated. His complaint was about whose interests that complexity served.

The latter part of the essay gets practical. He asks web professionals to question automatic third-party requests, unnecessary social widgets, oversized pages, dependence on JavaScript, and whether a site remains usable on a slow connection. HTTPS, accessibility, open tools, and direct publishing all fit into the same argument: treat the visitor as a person instead of raw material.

There is another nice old-Web detail here. The essay itself is openly published, linkable, readable without an account, and its source is available for people who want to suggest changes. Satyal later turned it into a Paris Web talk, but the original page still works perfectly well as a document.

CacheRat’s larger 1,967 Ancient Web Domains research list contains hundreds of examples of the sort of independent Web Satyal was defending: strange personal pages, specialist references, hobby projects, and documents that exist because somebody decided to publish them.

The essay is worth rereading because its strongest evidence is not philosophical. It is a browser inspector, a request count, and one brutally small 17 KB HTML file.

Read Parimal Satyal’s full essay

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Ancient Web: Notepad.org Sells the Greatest HTML Editor You Already Had

Notepad.org presents Windows Notepad as the greatest HTML editor ever made, which is technically a joke and also annoyingly difficult to disprove.

Visit Notepad.org

The page advertises Notepad as “the Internet’s most versatile HTML editor” and proceeds to describe the plain-text Windows accessory with the breathless feature language normally reserved for commercial Web-authoring software.

Its advantages include a universal file format, low memory use, a simple interface, compatibility with HTML, JavaScript, CGI, Perl, ActiveX, plug-ins, and—most importantly—compatibility with Web formats that have not yet been invented.

Hard to argue with that last one.

A text editor cannot become incompatible with a future markup language if it never pretended to understand the markup in the first place.

The joke only works because people really did this

During the early Web, hand-coding HTML in a plain text editor was not an affectation.

It was normal.

Visual Web-authoring packages promised to make page creation easier, but they also generated code, inserted metadata, consumed memory, and encouraged users to think about Web pages as documents assembled through software rather than text files they directly controlled.

Notepad.org turns that contrast into satire.

Its sales pitch praises the lack of graphical button bars as an efficiency feature. It celebrates the fact that all HTML remains visible. It points out that users can decide exactly which tags appear because the editor will not helpfully add anything on their behalf.

Those are jokes aimed at heavier authoring tools.

They are also legitimate reasons programmers still reach for simple text editors.

The page even offers a “Created with Notepad” logo, parodying the badges that once announced which commercial editor or browser technology had been used to create a site.

That tiny badge summarizes an entire Web-design culture war.

Should authoring tools hide the code, or should the person building the page understand what the browser is actually receiving?

Notepad.org has selected a side.

Violently.

The site is especially funny now because modern Web development eventually produced toolchains vastly more complicated than the visual editors being mocked. A contemporary project can involve package managers, transpilers, frameworks, build systems, containers, and enough dependencies to make 1990s FrontPage look like carving HTML into a tree.

Meanwhile, Notepad can still save a text file.

CacheRat’s 1,967 Ancient Web Domains research list includes pages like this because old Web humor often preserved the technical arguments of its era better than formal histories did.

The world’s most versatile HTML editor remains free.

Microsoft accidentally bundled it with Windows.

Experience the full Notepad.org sales pitch

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Ancient Web: The Wererat’s Lair Kept Its Mid-1990s Web Design on Purpose

The Wererat’s Lair does not merely look like a mid-1990s website by accident.

It has been actively kept that way.

Visit The Wererat’s Lair

The site mixes pet-rat material, personal pages, role-playing games, photo galleries, old web tutorials, MIDI, and years of updates into one hand-built maze.

The navigation literally tells visitors to click on stones to enter the Lair.

That is the correct energy.

Hand-coded in 1996 and still being maintained

A 2019 update includes the line: “why did I ever code this by hand back in 1996?”

That dates the site’s basic architecture and explains a lot about what survives.

The update log stretches across pet rats and gerbils, D&D and Pathfinder campaigns, local web-design projects, family losses, galleries, and site maintenance. In 2020 the author noted that keeping the main Lair looking and sounding like the mid-1990s took actual effort. Old MIDI files and Java applets had stopped working, so parts were converted or replaced to keep the experience alive.

There is also a practical layer beneath the cave graphics.

The site maintained rat-care resources for decades. A 2024 update says the “Rat-help” section had finally ceased after nearly thirty years, while classic answers were left online. Elsewhere are rat-book recommendations, galleries, memorial pages, and older care information.

The web-design material is its own time capsule. One tutorial walks through a JavaScript photo album using arrays, form fields, and numbered image files—the kind of thing personal-site authors once copied, modified, and learned from directly.

The Wererat’s Lair therefore preserves more than appearance.

It preserves a way of making websites: write the HTML yourself, bolt on a script when you need one, collect whatever subjects interest you, and let the whole thing become structurally weird over time.

CacheRat’s 1,967 Ancient Web Domains research list includes personal sites like this because genuine old-web continuity is rarer than retro styling.

Anyone can imitate 1996.

The Wererat’s Lair was actually there.

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