Recovery failure and redesign.
A five-person senior capstone project to design, build, and flight-test a high-power rocket targeting a ~10,000-ft mission. Budget was the first-order constraint and drove the vehicle architecture; packaging and schedule followed from that decision.
Early in the project the team evaluated carbon-fiber and fiberglass airframe options. Larger-diameter composite airframes carried a steep cost premium relative to the team’s budget, which pushed the design toward a minimum-diameter architecture: an airframe only slightly larger than the motor.
The team later transitioned to kraft phenolic, which reduced the original diameter-related material cost pressure. By that point the vehicle architecture and subsystem designs had already developed around minimum diameter, and that inherited architecture stayed with the project through flight test.
The consequences propagated through the system: constrained avionics packaging, constrained recovery volume, more difficult mechanical interfaces, and reduced integration margin.
The primary constraint. Made larger composite airframes cost-prohibitive and drove the shift to a minimum-diameter architecture.
Minimum-diameter airframe created severe internal-volume constraints for every subsystem.
The vehicle had to deliver enough performance for the target altitude on a commercially available motor.
Safe, reliable recovery of a high-energy vehicle back to the ground.
A capstone development timeline that had to include multiple flight-test iterations.
The team was developing high-power rocketry experience while building the vehicle.
Heavily involved in preparation, execution, troubleshooting, and post-flight analysis of all three major development flights.
I owned most of the avionics and embedded coding effort: integrating and programming Teensy-based flight electronics, adding IMU and barometric sensing, developing the data-collection firmware, and integrating a BlueJay altimeter for recovery deployment and redundant data.
The avionics pod was both an electrical and a mechanical problem: the same volume had to hold sensors, storage, power, deployment interfaces, and the payload housing structure.
The avionics pod was the clearest instance of the inherited architecture forcing electrical and mechanical design to solve the same problem simultaneously. Sensors, storage, power, deployment interfaces, and the payload housing structure had to share a single small internal volume — a direct consequence of the minimum-diameter decision.
See § 04 — Avionics Deep Dive for the CAD and installed hardware.
Design problem: secure the motor to the vehicle, keep unnecessary mass out, fit the constrained aft geometry, and remain manufacturable with available shop resources.
Before flight, the recovery system was exercised on the ground to verify deployment behavior end-to-end — from initiation through separation and parachute release. These tests informed the recovery-integration architecture and the changes carried between vehicles.
Ground testing was a critical part of the recovery engineering. It exposed integration issues while they could still be corrected on the bench, and directly increased confidence going into each flight.
The second small-scale vehicle carried servo-driven aft-fin deflectors as an experimental active-control system. I worked heavily on the implementation because the mechanical hardware and control firmware had to be developed together.
Early composite-airframe cost constraints pushed the vehicle toward minimum diameter. Even after the material strategy changed, the resulting architecture continued to shape packaging and system risk.
Improving one metric, whether drag, packaging density, or controllability, routinely created problems elsewhere. Judging the whole vehicle mattered more than winning a subsystem.
Successful component tests did not guarantee system-level success under actual dynamic conditions. Deployment ultimately failed only under real flight loading.
Active control was removed when safety and validation confidence could not be reached inside the remaining budget and schedule.
The material change to kraft phenolic relaxed the original cost pressure that had forced minimum diameter, but the architecture inherited from that earlier decision was never revisited. Constraints move, and the design should be allowed to move with them.
The final flight did not end the way we intended. Recovery failed and the vehicle was lost. The purpose of an engineering test, though, is not simply to produce a successful demonstration. Its purpose is to reduce uncertainty and inform the next design.
This was the first year of this high-power rocket capstone effort at Syracuse. In under four months, and under a constrained budget, a five-person team progressed from an initial concept through design, fabrication, embedded systems development, ground testing, multiple flight tests, failure investigation, redesign, and the launch of a full-scale vehicle.
Across three vehicles we identified failure modes, changed designs, removed concepts we could not validate safely, and learned where the architecture needed to improve. None of that makes any single failure a success. It does mean each test produced information the next design would not have had otherwise.
Three vehicles, one budget-driven architecture, and a set of engineering lessons produced by flight testing.