NextGen IVF LifeLabs: Plan, Equip, and Support the Lab

Before a single page, an identity. The name got its IVF back: NextGen IVF LifeLabs. The mark is two forms laid over each other, a pink circle and a cyan leaf, and where they overlap, a deep purple of its own.

Seven colours, each with a job. Purple for authority, navy for clinical credibility, cyan for links and every call to action, and pink, used sparingly, for the human warmth the work is really about. Sone carries the type. The voice is written down too: quiet, precise and specific, scientific validity over marketing hype, and no stock photos of smiling scientists.

Then the brand went everywhere the company shows up: the site, the booth screens, email signatures with a strip for the next show, and business cards set up for print with a QR code that saves the rep to your phone.

NextGen’s products lived on two old sites, an Adobe Muse build and a WordPress rebuild that had stalled halfway. We didn’t retype them. On day one the catalogue came over through WordPress’s own API, then NextGen cut it down to what they actually sell: 27 systems in 10 categories from 17 manufacturers, plus NextGen’s own workstation line.

Every system has its own page and every brand lists what NextGen carries. The catalogue filters by category and searches as you type, and the search still works with JavaScript off. The flagship, Matcher electronic witnessing, gets a full story page: photos of it in use, diagrams, and a capability list lifted out of an image and set as real text, so it can be read and found. Its video doesn’t load until someone asks for it.

The search that finds nothing is the clever part. Type something NextGen doesn’t list and the page says so plainly, then offers to get it anyway, with the sales team’s faces on the offer. Every miss is logged, so the team sees demand from people who would otherwise have left without a word.

When a lab’s equipment goes down, the website is a phone number first. For everything else, a Request Service panel slides in from every page and asks which system is in trouble before it asks anything else, picked from the real catalogue.

Every system also has a QR code of its own. Scan it and the same panel opens with that system already chosen, so nobody has to hunt for a model number with an incubator alarm going off.

Preventive maintenance ran on a paper form, 7-01-F1, that labs printed, initialled and scanned back. It’s a page now, same document and same terms, and it enforces the 30-day notice in the browser and on the server, naming the earliest date it can take. The team prints the finished form for the technician straight from the OS.

Underneath, it’s built not to lose anything. A request is written down before anything else happens, and the spam trap flags a suspect message instead of throwing it away, because browser autofill was tripping it.

Everything lands in an OS we built for NextGen’s team. Requests sort themselves into a sales lane and a service lane, each one moves from new to working to closed, and each can be handed to an account lead. Leads from the booth arrive tagged as trade show leads. Searches that found nothing show up on the dashboard.

Everyone has their own sign-in from an invite link. The OS shows who’s online, the team can message each other, and admins arrange the dashboard the way they work. The extras live there too: email signatures for the whole team, and business cards laid out once, previewed, and downloaded as print-ready PDFs, the whole team in one zip.

And it’s wired to us. A gem in the OS sends a note straight to the SIDES board, so a change NextGen wants arrives with the page it’s about.

NextGen sells at trade shows, so the site goes to the show too. The booth screens are pages of the same site, a 1920 × 1080 stage running on DAN, our digital signage network. There are eight channels now (Showcase, Brands, Quote, Service, Custom, Air Quality, QC and Ask a Specialist) and 95 slides between them, each at its own address so a playlist can pick and choose.

Hall wifi is famous for dropping, so every screen keeps its last good copy and carries on, checking for changes every five minutes. The QR codes on the call-to-action slides open a quote or a service request tagged to the show, so the team knows which leads came off the floor.

Around the screens, the rest of the show kit came from the same place: an ASRM 2026 page with a calendar invite and a booking form, a card on the home page that takes itself down after the show, a share image for the show, social posts in five layouts, and the email that went out before it, hand-coded for Mailchimp.

NextGen didn’t really start in 2012. It started with two fathers who were building embryology labs while the field was still working out what a good one looked like, and their sons run the company now. We gave that story its own page, built from the family’s own photographs, and pointed it at what carried forward: specify around the work, be there at handover, answer the phone.

The site keeps one rule about history: nothing invented. In a field where every claim gets checked, the true story is the one that sells.