One colour does the talking
Lime is the only colour that means anything here. Everything else is dark or grey, so when lime appears you look at it.
Design system
Dark is home, and one green does all the talking. This page is where those decisions live — not a document about the design, but the design itself, running. Everything below is the real thing: hover it, click it, copy a colour straight off it.
When a new screen feels off, it is almost always one of these four that got broken. Everything after this section is detail.
Lime is the only colour that means anything here. Everything else is dark or grey, so when lime appears you look at it.
Not a dark mode — the only mode. The light band shows up about once a page, as relief, and then we go back to dark.
Headlines are set in the serif and make the promise. Everything that backs the promise up is set in the sans. Neither does the other's job.
You cannot cast a shadow onto black. Depth here is a thin edge and a glow — which is also why the accent is the only thing that ever appears to float.
Use this
Never this Do
Don't
Three colours carry the brand. Everything else on this page is one of those three made lighter or darker — a ladder, not a new colour. Hover anything to see its code, click to copy it.
The same message on the dark ground and on the light band. Lime behaves differently on each: on dark it can glow and even carry small text, on light it can only be a fill, a marker or an underline. Point at any part of these cards — the background, the label, a heading, a button — and it will tell you exactly which colours it is made of. Click to copy.
The accent glows here. Use it for markers, primary buttons and the one number that matters.
Here the accent anchors the button and the marker. The words stay charcoal — lime is never set as type on light.
One green, lit and shaded. These five let a shape have a bright edge and a dark side while staying the same colour — which is why the brand never needs a second hue to look dimensional. Only the middle step is the brand green; the rest are its light and shade.
The same idea in neutral: paper at one end, charcoal at the other. Text picks the top three, edges and grounds pick the bottom two.
Two greys sit between the hairline and the ground. They exist only to lift a card off the background — the difference is meant to be felt, not noticed. Neither ever carries text.
Identical content, four backgrounds. This is the quickest way to settle a colour question: if a combination is not one of these four, it is not one we use. Point at any part of a card to see what it is made of.
Every breach signal classified at the edge and dispatched in under a second.
Every breach signal classified at the edge and dispatched in under a second.
Every breach signal classified at the edge and dispatched in under a second.
Every breach signal classified at the edge and dispatched in under a second.
Lora says it, Geist explains it, Geist Mono labels it. The typefaces come from the parent FlytBase brand, so they are not up for debate — but which one does which job is, and that is the whole of this section.
The italic rule. Lora italic exists to lift exactly one word out of a headline — the word the sentence turns on. Two italics in one headline cancel each other out, so we allow only one.
The two largest sizes shrink on small screens so a headline never breaks into more than three lines. Everything from 18px down stays exactly as it is.
Do
Don't
Every gap in the system is a multiple of 4. It sounds fussy and it is the single reason the pages feel calm: nothing is ever three pixels off from the thing beside it.
Pick from this list rather than nudging by eye. If a gap you want is not here, the answer is almost always the next one up.
On a dark ground a drop shadow does almost nothing — you cannot cast a shadow onto black. So depth here is made of three things instead: a slightly lighter surface, a thin edge, and a glow.
The page itself
Where everything startsOne step up
Cards and filled buttonsTwo steps up
Pills and hover statesGlowing
The one button you want pressedThe steps are deliberately small. You should feel a card lift off the page without being able to say why — if you can see the join, it has gone too far.
A frosted pane that lets whatever is behind it show through, softened. It adds no colour of its own — just a little white light and a blur — which is how it stays on-brand while sitting over a photograph. Glass only works over something worth seeing. Over a flat background it just looks like a panel with the wrong grey.
Do
Don't
One deliberate departure from the brand kit. The kit asks for perfectly sharp corners. We keep a 4px round everywhere, consistently, because at screen sizes it reads as precise rather than soft. It is a single setting — if the brand team would rather have hard edges, it flips back in one change.
Almost everything that moves here moves because you did something — you scrolled to it, or you put a cursor on it. Four kinds of movement cover the whole site. Hover a card to watch its feel.
Anyone who asks for less motion gets less motion. If a visitor has turned animation down in their operating system, every effect on this site switches off — the smooth scrolling, the glows, the drifting backgrounds, all of it. Nothing is ever hidden waiting for an animation that will not run.
The one thing that moves on its own. It lives in the background, never in the content, and it is slow enough to read as a machine idling rather than an animation. The header of this page is running both of these right now.
A pool of light rises off the bottom edge of a band and slowly fades back. Nine seconds a cycle — slower than you would notice on purpose.
A crest of brighter dots drifts diagonally across the grain. The dots themselves never move — only the light passing over them.
Two of these per page, maximum. They are decoration, they are invisible to screen readers, and they stop completely for anyone who has asked for reduced motion.
Put your cursor inside each of these — they are the real behaviours, not descriptions of them.
Three small devices give the pages their atmosphere. None of them is an image — they are drawn by the browser, so they never go blurry and never slow a page down.
A fine lattice of lime dots. It gives an empty area something to be, without giving it a colour.
Light rising off the bottom edge of a band, as if something warm sits just below it. Used at the top and the very end of a page.
Small lime brackets on the corners of a card — a targeting reticle, borrowed from the instruments our customers already use.
Do
Don't
Everything below is the real thing, running — not a picture of it. Hover anything with an arrow or a glow and it will behave exactly as it does on the site.
The four weights
One lime button per screen — the thing you actually want pressed. The outlined one is for the second-best action, the filled grey one for anything further down the list, and the underlined link for a step that is optional.
All of them are small uppercase labels. If a button needs a sentence, it is not a button, it is a link.
The same four on the light band
The lime button does not change — lime with charcoal type is the one combination that works on both grounds. Everything else flips: the outline goes light grey, the filled button goes charcoal, and the link becomes charcoal text with a lime rule under it. Lime is never the word itself here.
The main call to action
A glow follows your cursor across it and the arrow travels once when you hover. Use it wherever a section ends in an invitation. It comes in a dark version and a lime version — the lime one for when the section around it is quiet.
The rolling button
Each letter flips over in turn, then the arrow swaps. It is the most theatrical thing in the system, so it is reserved for a single hero-level action — one per page, at most.
The expanding pill
An icon at rest that grows its label when you approach it. Good in tight spaces — a card corner, a toolbar. It is the one component allowed to overshoot slightly as it opens.
The closing invitation
It leans toward your cursor as you approach, the lime disc grows, the label rolls. It belongs at the very end of a page, sitting on a glow — once, and never twice.
Pills
Small status chips. Lime for live or new, grey for a plain fact like a certification, red only when something is actually wrong. Red never appears as decoration.
The eyebrow
The little uppercase label with a lime square in front of it. It opens nearly every section and card, and it is the single most recognisable habit of the system. Two or three words — never a sentence, and never something the reader must act on.
Figures sit in a dashed grid with corner marks on the outer two corners only — so four numbers read as one instrument panel rather than four separate boxes.
Where screenshots live
A dark field with soft lime light behind it and a fine grain over the top, framed by a hairline. Product screens and demo footage always sit inside this frame rather than floating on the page — it keeps a busy interface from fighting with the layout around it.
How we show proof. A photograph carries the feeling, and a panel of tinted glass laid over it carries the number. The panel is what makes the card safe: whatever the picture behind it is doing, the words stay readable.
Perimeter events triaged autonomously each day.
Of alerts closed at the edge before an operator is paged.
Escalations that turn out to matter — the rest never reach a human.
A page is a stack of dark bands with one light band for relief and a glow at each end. Getting the order right matters more than any single component on this page.
Dark at the top, dark at the bottom, one light band somewhere in the middle. That single light band is what stops a long dark page from feeling like one endless scroll.
Do
Don't
This is a design constraint, not a box ticked at the end. Nine questions — if a new section answers all of them, it is ready.
Everything above is live: the colours, type, components and motion on this page are the same ones the site is built from, so if something here looks wrong, it is wrong on the site too. Design from what you see rather than from a copy of it — take a colour by clicking its swatch, and take a component by pointing at the example rather than rebuilding it.
Two rules keep the system honest. A new colour has to earn its place in this page first — if it is not here, it is not ours. And a component that needs a new behaviour gets changed once, here, rather than forked into a one-off on a single page.