Onyx
Stormcloud
Outer Space
Turkish rose
Pale blue
0
0
1
4
0
NCS S 1030-B40G
Parameters:
HEX Triplet:
#A8E8E1RGB:
168, 232, 225CMYK:
45, 0, 21, 0HSL:
173°, 28%, 91%Closest colors:
in RGB:
Blizzard Bluein PANTONE:
PANTONE 2975in RAL Classic:
RAL 9002in RAL Design:
RAL 220 80 15in RAL Effect:
RAL 720-2in NCS:
NCS S 1030-B50G 2024-08-30 Snargl 02:10
What color is NCS S 1030-B40G?
NCS colors are described by their hue, blackness, and chromaticness.
For example, NCS S 1030-B40G means that this color has a hue of blue (B) with a slight green (G) nuance, a blackness of 10%, and a chromaticness of 30%.
In other color models, NCS S 1030-B40G this color the following values:
For example, NCS S 1030-B40G means that this color has a hue of blue (B) with a slight green (G) nuance, a blackness of 10%, and a chromaticness of 30%.
In other color models, NCS S 1030-B40G this color the following values:
RGB: 168, 232, 225
HEX: #A8E8E1
CMYK: 45, 0, 21, 0
HSL: 173, 28, 91
Example of the palette with the NCS S 1030-B40G color
1
0
Top 5 color shades of the illustration. Arranged in descending order of frequency of occurrence (first - more often, last - more rare).
See these colors in NCS, PANTONE, RAL palettes...
See these colors in NCS, PANTONE, RAL palettes...
Funny stories about the 'NCS S 1030-B40G'
The Color That Spoke: A Tale of NCS S 1030-B40G
Once upon a time, in the bustling city of Chromatopolis, there was a peculiar doctor named Manolo Yamamoto. He was not an ordinary doctor, but a Doctor of Chromatics, specializing in the study of colors. His small, cluttered office was nestled within the Chromatic Institute, a towering building filled with the world's most vibrant pigments, dyes, and hues. Dr. Yamamoto had a particular obsession - a color known as "NCS S 1030-B40G." It was a soft shade of blue-green, a color so rare and delicate that few had ever used it.
Dr. Yamamoto had spent years studying this color, believing it held secrets beyond its simple appearance. He had conducted countless experiments, from painting it on canvases to analyzing it under microscopes. But no matter what he did, the color remained just that - a color. Still, the doctor was convinced there was something more to it.
One day, as Dr. Yamamoto was deep in thought, surrounded by various shades of blue and green, his phone rang. It was Sandy Rodriguez, a factory worker from the Chromatic Printing Press on the other side of the city. Sandy was a practical woman with little patience for nonsense, but she had a problem that was driving her to the brink of madness.
"Dr. Yamamoto," Sandy began, her voice a mix of frustration and confusion, "we’ve been using this NCS S 1030-B40G color for a new line of eco-friendly packaging, but something's not right. The color... well, it seems to be changing on its own."
"Changing?" Dr. Yamamoto perked up. "How do you mean?"
"It's like it's alive," Sandy explained, exasperation growing in her voice. "One minute it’s the right shade, and the next it’s darker or lighter. And sometimes it even seems to move when no one’s looking!"
Dr. Yamamoto was intrigued. He had never heard of such a thing before. Colors were static, defined by their wavelengths and properties. They didn’t just change on their own. This was exactly the kind of mystery he had been waiting for.
"I'll be there in an hour," Dr. Yamamoto said, grabbing his coat and a small suitcase filled with his color analysis tools.
When Dr. Yamamoto arrived at the factory, Sandy was waiting for him. She was a stout woman with a no-nonsense attitude, her hands stained with ink from the printing presses. She led him to the production floor, where rows of machines hummed and whirred, churning out rolls of printed paper and cardboard.
"There," Sandy pointed to a batch of freshly printed boxes. "Look at those."
Dr. Yamamoto squinted at the boxes. They were indeed printed with the NCS S 1030-B40G color, but as he watched, the color seemed to flicker, shifting from a gentle blue-green to a deeper, almost teal shade, and then back again.
"Incredible," Dr. Yamamoto whispered, more to himself than to Sandy. "It’s as if the color is alive."
"Alive?" Sandy raised an eyebrow. "It’s ink on cardboard, Doc. How can it be alive?"
Dr. Yamamoto ignored her skepticism and took out a small device from his suitcase. It was a chromatic analyzer, designed to measure the exact properties of a color. He held it up to the boxes, and the device beeped and whirred, processing the data.
"The wavelengths are fluctuating," Dr. Yamamoto murmured. "But that shouldn’t be possible. The color should be stable."
As he continued to fiddle with the device, Sandy crossed her arms and tapped her foot impatiently. She didn’t have time for this scientific mumbo-jumbo. To her, colors were just colors, tools of her trade, nothing more.
"Listen, Doc," Sandy said, interrupting his thoughts. "We need to figure out what's going on. These boxes are supposed to be shipped out tomorrow. If the color keeps changing, the customers are going to think we’re incompetent!"
Dr. Yamamoto nodded, his mind racing. There had to be a reason for the color’s strange behavior. Maybe it was a chemical reaction, or perhaps something in the factory’s environment was affecting the ink. But as he considered these possibilities, a thought struck him - a thought so bizarre that he almost dismissed it.
"What if," Dr. Yamamoto began slowly, "the color is trying to communicate with us?"
Sandy stared at him, her mouth slightly open. "Communicate? You think a color is talking to us?"
"Not in the way we speak," Dr. Yamamoto clarified. "But through its changes. Maybe it’s reacting to something, trying to convey a message."
Sandy looked at him like he had lost his mind, but there was something in his eyes, a spark of genuine curiosity, that made her pause. "Alright, Doc. How do we get a color to talk?"
"We need to observe it closely," Dr. Yamamoto said, excitement creeping into his voice. "Let's take it somewhere quiet, away from all this machinery."
They moved a few of the boxes to a small, dimly lit office at the back of the factory. Dr. Yamamoto set up his equipment, and they began their vigil. Hours passed as they watched the color shift and change, but no pattern emerged.
Just as Sandy was about to call it quits, the color on one of the boxes began to pulsate rhythmically, growing brighter and darker in a steady beat.
"Do you see that?" Dr. Yamamoto whispered.
"Yeah," Sandy said, her voice barely audible. "It's like... Morse code."
They stared at the box, and slowly, a realization dawned on them. The color was indeed communicating, using variations in its hue and brightness to form patterns. Dr. Yamamoto quickly scribbled down the sequences, translating them into letters.
Finally, after what felt like hours, they had a message:
"I don’t know," Dr. Yamamoto replied, his mind reeling. "But it’s clear this color isn’t just a color. It’s... something else. Something with a consciousness, maybe even a soul."
The factory worker and the chromatic doctor sat in stunned silence, the weight of their discovery pressing down on them. Whatever NCS S 1030-B40G was, it was no ordinary pigment. And it needed their help.
But how could they help a color? What did it mean to be "trapped"? The questions swirled around them, unanswered and unsettling.
"Maybe..." Dr. Yamamoto started, but before he could finish, the lights in the room flickered, and the color on the boxes dimmed. Then, slowly, the message changed:
Sandy didn’t stop to look back, and neither did Dr. Yamamoto. They ran out of the factory and into the night, the unsettling glow still visible through the windows behind them.
The next morning, when they returned with a team of experts, the office was empty. The boxes were gone, and so was the mysterious color. It was as if the entire experience had been a dream, except for one small detail - a tiny spot of NCS S 1030-B40G on the floor, shimmering softly in the daylight.
Dr. Yamamoto knelt beside it, his face a mix of awe and fear. "It’s still here," he whispered.
Sandy shook her head, her practical nature struggling to comprehend what had happened. "What do we do now, Doc?"
Dr. Yamamoto stood up slowly, his mind already spinning with new possibilities. "We study it, Sandy. We study it like never before. But this time, we’re not just studying a color. We’re studying a living thing."
And so, the legend of NCS S 1030-B40G grew, a tale whispered among the workers at the factory and the scholars at the Chromatic Institute. No one ever truly understood what had happened, but one thing was certain - colors would never be seen the same way again.
Dr. Yamamoto had spent years studying this color, believing it held secrets beyond its simple appearance. He had conducted countless experiments, from painting it on canvases to analyzing it under microscopes. But no matter what he did, the color remained just that - a color. Still, the doctor was convinced there was something more to it.
1
0
One day, as Dr. Yamamoto was deep in thought, surrounded by various shades of blue and green, his phone rang. It was Sandy Rodriguez, a factory worker from the Chromatic Printing Press on the other side of the city. Sandy was a practical woman with little patience for nonsense, but she had a problem that was driving her to the brink of madness.
"Dr. Yamamoto," Sandy began, her voice a mix of frustration and confusion, "we’ve been using this NCS S 1030-B40G color for a new line of eco-friendly packaging, but something's not right. The color... well, it seems to be changing on its own."
"Changing?" Dr. Yamamoto perked up. "How do you mean?"
"It's like it's alive," Sandy explained, exasperation growing in her voice. "One minute it’s the right shade, and the next it’s darker or lighter. And sometimes it even seems to move when no one’s looking!"
Dr. Yamamoto was intrigued. He had never heard of such a thing before. Colors were static, defined by their wavelengths and properties. They didn’t just change on their own. This was exactly the kind of mystery he had been waiting for.
"I'll be there in an hour," Dr. Yamamoto said, grabbing his coat and a small suitcase filled with his color analysis tools.
When Dr. Yamamoto arrived at the factory, Sandy was waiting for him. She was a stout woman with a no-nonsense attitude, her hands stained with ink from the printing presses. She led him to the production floor, where rows of machines hummed and whirred, churning out rolls of printed paper and cardboard.
"There," Sandy pointed to a batch of freshly printed boxes. "Look at those."
Dr. Yamamoto squinted at the boxes. They were indeed printed with the NCS S 1030-B40G color, but as he watched, the color seemed to flicker, shifting from a gentle blue-green to a deeper, almost teal shade, and then back again.
"Incredible," Dr. Yamamoto whispered, more to himself than to Sandy. "It’s as if the color is alive."
"Alive?" Sandy raised an eyebrow. "It’s ink on cardboard, Doc. How can it be alive?"
Dr. Yamamoto ignored her skepticism and took out a small device from his suitcase. It was a chromatic analyzer, designed to measure the exact properties of a color. He held it up to the boxes, and the device beeped and whirred, processing the data.
"The wavelengths are fluctuating," Dr. Yamamoto murmured. "But that shouldn’t be possible. The color should be stable."
As he continued to fiddle with the device, Sandy crossed her arms and tapped her foot impatiently. She didn’t have time for this scientific mumbo-jumbo. To her, colors were just colors, tools of her trade, nothing more.
"Listen, Doc," Sandy said, interrupting his thoughts. "We need to figure out what's going on. These boxes are supposed to be shipped out tomorrow. If the color keeps changing, the customers are going to think we’re incompetent!"
Dr. Yamamoto nodded, his mind racing. There had to be a reason for the color’s strange behavior. Maybe it was a chemical reaction, or perhaps something in the factory’s environment was affecting the ink. But as he considered these possibilities, a thought struck him - a thought so bizarre that he almost dismissed it.
"What if," Dr. Yamamoto began slowly, "the color is trying to communicate with us?"
Sandy stared at him, her mouth slightly open. "Communicate? You think a color is talking to us?"
"Not in the way we speak," Dr. Yamamoto clarified. "But through its changes. Maybe it’s reacting to something, trying to convey a message."
Sandy looked at him like he had lost his mind, but there was something in his eyes, a spark of genuine curiosity, that made her pause. "Alright, Doc. How do we get a color to talk?"
"We need to observe it closely," Dr. Yamamoto said, excitement creeping into his voice. "Let's take it somewhere quiet, away from all this machinery."
They moved a few of the boxes to a small, dimly lit office at the back of the factory. Dr. Yamamoto set up his equipment, and they began their vigil. Hours passed as they watched the color shift and change, but no pattern emerged.
Just as Sandy was about to call it quits, the color on one of the boxes began to pulsate rhythmically, growing brighter and darker in a steady beat.
"Do you see that?" Dr. Yamamoto whispered.
"Yeah," Sandy said, her voice barely audible. "It's like... Morse code."
They stared at the box, and slowly, a realization dawned on them. The color was indeed communicating, using variations in its hue and brightness to form patterns. Dr. Yamamoto quickly scribbled down the sequences, translating them into letters.
Finally, after what felt like hours, they had a message:
"HELP. TRAPPED."
Sandy and Dr. Yamamoto exchanged glances, both of them pale. "What does that mean?" Sandy asked, her voice trembling slightly."I don’t know," Dr. Yamamoto replied, his mind reeling. "But it’s clear this color isn’t just a color. It’s... something else. Something with a consciousness, maybe even a soul."
The factory worker and the chromatic doctor sat in stunned silence, the weight of their discovery pressing down on them. Whatever NCS S 1030-B40G was, it was no ordinary pigment. And it needed their help.
But how could they help a color? What did it mean to be "trapped"? The questions swirled around them, unanswered and unsettling.
"Maybe..." Dr. Yamamoto started, but before he could finish, the lights in the room flickered, and the color on the boxes dimmed. Then, slowly, the message changed:
"RUN."
Without a second thought, Dr. Yamamoto and Sandy bolted from the room, the door slamming shut behind them. As they raced down the factory hall, a strange, eerie glow began to emanate from the office they had just left. It pulsed and spread, as if the color was expanding, taking over everything in its path.Sandy didn’t stop to look back, and neither did Dr. Yamamoto. They ran out of the factory and into the night, the unsettling glow still visible through the windows behind them.
The next morning, when they returned with a team of experts, the office was empty. The boxes were gone, and so was the mysterious color. It was as if the entire experience had been a dream, except for one small detail - a tiny spot of NCS S 1030-B40G on the floor, shimmering softly in the daylight.
Dr. Yamamoto knelt beside it, his face a mix of awe and fear. "It’s still here," he whispered.
Sandy shook her head, her practical nature struggling to comprehend what had happened. "What do we do now, Doc?"
Dr. Yamamoto stood up slowly, his mind already spinning with new possibilities. "We study it, Sandy. We study it like never before. But this time, we’re not just studying a color. We’re studying a living thing."
And so, the legend of NCS S 1030-B40G grew, a tale whispered among the workers at the factory and the scholars at the Chromatic Institute. No one ever truly understood what had happened, but one thing was certain - colors would never be seen the same way again.
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