When the Ground Shook, the Maker Community Answered: How 3D Printing Is Helping Earthquake Relief in Venezuela

On June 24, 2026, two major earthquakes — magnitude 7.2 and 7.5 — struck northern Venezuela just 39 seconds apart, devastating the state of la Guaira and Caracas. As of the latest reports, more than 3,800 people are confirmed dead, over 16,700 injured, and tens of thousands still missing; satellite analysis estimates nearly 59,000 buildings were damaged or destroyed, with roughly 80% of La Guaira’s buildings collapsed. In the days after, hospitals and relief workers were stretched thin, and something as basic as a splint to stabilize a broken wrist or finger became hard to come by fast enough. So the maker community did what it does best: it started printing.

An open call answered

The response began with Ostec3D, who generously released their splint design to the public so anyone with a 3D printer could help. That single act of sharing set off a chain reaction. Makers, labs, and innovation centers across the Americas picked up the files and started producing parts, coordinating through networks that grew almost overnight from a handful of people into hundreds.

One of those labs was Engine-4, an innovation center in Bayamón, Puerto Rico, whose philanthropic arm, Engine-4 Foundation, jumped in over a single weekend. Its CEO, Luis Armando Torres, put it simply to El Nuevo Día: “Technology saves lives when it’s put in the service of people. With 3D printing, we can manufacture medical aids quickly and efficiently to support those who need it most” not a substitute for medical devices, but a bridge to help people until proper care is available. Torres described how a network that started with 37 people grew to 965 members collaborating on getting medical supplies to points inside and outside Venezuela with Engine-4 producing more than 100 splints within a couple of days to add to the initiative.

Engine-4 is also home to re:3D’s first Gigalab and our Puerto Rico outpost, so this effort ran close to home. We printed our knee immobilizer design on Gigabot 4, the only printer on hand large enough for the job, and wrist splints in batches of four, two medium and two large, left and right of each.

Knee Splint and batch of 4 Wrist Splints.

From one design to a full splint open source family

Inspired by that call to action, we joined in, using Ostec3D’s original wrist splint as our starting point — their design gave us the ergonomic reference and anatomical fit for the wrist. From there, we developed our own lattice and internal structure, engineered for a specific stiffness behavior after thermoforming, and built the whole system parametrically in Rhino Grasshopper (with an assist from fellow Autodesk Research Residents Reer AI’s plug-in) so the strut thickness stays consistent no matter the size or shape of the part. That flexibility is what made it possible to go beyond the wrist splint and add a matching finger splint and knee immobilizer to the family.

Grasshopper definition for diamond pattern with evenly spaced strut design.

Every part in the family prints flat, warms up in hot water, with a heat gun, or any suitable heat source, and molds directly to the wearer. The open lattice keeps things light and breathable, practical for a relief setting where every gram filament and every minute matters.

From the printer to the field

Getting parts printed is only half the job; getting them to the people who need them is the rest. That’s where Luis Torres and the Engine-4 Foundation came in again, printing and dispatching splints alongside the rest of the network. Parts were sent by private planes and logistics companies to confirmed earthquake response centers, largely coordinated through Venezuelan communities in Florida and New York.

Sharing it back

In the spirit of what Ostec3D started, we’re releasing our full splint family, Wrist Splint, Finger Splint (long and mid-section), and Knee Immobilizer, for free on Thingiverse and Cults3D as part of our #FreePrintFriday initiative. The download includes STEP files, the original Rhino file, and the Grasshopper definition, so anyone can print, adapt, or build on the system for their own relief efforts. Full credit to Ostec3D for the inspiration and for leading the way.

A note on intended use: these splints are meant for temporary stabilization while proper medical care is being sought, a bridge, not a replacement for a professionally applied cast, brace, or definitive treatment. Full usage, safety, and disclaimer information is included on the Thingiverse and Cults3D listings.

Other ways to help

Since then, Ostec3D has shared that the community has now produced more than 20,000 splints, enough that they’ve asked makers to shift away from splints and check what else is currently needed.

Printing is just one piece of a much larger relief effort, with countless organizations and first responders working on the ground in Venezuela. A few ways to get involved directly:

Follow PrintForHelp — the nonprofit community platform coordinating the 3D-printing relief response, with collection centers and live part requests. Needs shift over time, so check their latest requests before you print.

Donate to Cáritas de Venezuela — one of the largest on-the-ground earthquake responses in the country, delivering aid and assisting affected families directly. Financial donations reach people that printed parts alone can’t.

Thank you

What stands out most in all of this isn’t the files or the printers, it’s the willingness of a community to drop what it’s doing and help. Ostec3D opened the door by sharing their work freely. Networks like the one Luis Torres and Engine-4 Foundation are part of turned that into hundreds of splints reaching people who needed them within days. We’re grateful to be part of that chain, and we hope sharing our files keeps it going.

If you print, adapt, or find a way to help, we’d love to hear about it.

Sources: Ostec3D’s original splint design and shared files; El Nuevo Día, “De Bayamón a Venezuela: usan la impresión 3D para ayudar a heridos por los terremotos”; UN News, “Venezuela earthquake death toll passes 1,700 as UN continues to scale up response”; NPR, “Untold casualties and humanitarian needs: What to know a week from Venezuela’s quakes.”

Cuando la Tierra Tembló, la Comunidad Maker Respondió: ¿Cómo esta apoyando la Impresión 3D la Ayuda Humanitaria tras los Terremotos en Venezuela?

El 24 de junio de 2026, dos terremotos de gran magnitud de 7.2 y 7.5 sacudieron el norte de Venezuela con apenas 39 segundos de diferencia, devastando el estado de la Guaira y Caracas. Según los últimos reportes, más de 3,800 personas han sido confirmadas muertas, más de 16,700 heridas y decenas de miles siguen desaparecidas. Casi 59,000 edificios resultaron dañados o destruidos, con aproximadamente el 80% de los edificios de la Guaira colapsados, según los análisis satelitales. En los días posteriores, los hospitales y equipos de rescate quedaron al límite de su capacidad y necesidades básicas como férulas para estabilizar muñecas o dedos fracturados se volvieron difíciles de conseguir con la rapidez necesaria. Aquí es donde entra la comunidad maker a hacer lo que sabe hacer mejor: empezar a imprimir!

De un llamado abierto, una respuesta colectiva

La respuesta comenzó con Ostec3D, quienes liberaron su diseño de férula al público generosamente para que cualquier persona con una impresora 3D pudiera ayudar. Ese único gesto de compartir desató una reacción en cadena. Makers, laboratorios y centros de innovación de toda América tomaron los archivos y comenzaron a producir piezas, coordinando a través de redes que crecieron casi de la noche a la mañana.

Uno de esos laboratorios fue Engine-4, un centro de innovación en Bayamón, Puerto Rico, cuyo brazo filantrópico, Engine-4 Foundation, se sumó a la causa rápidamente. Luis Armando Torres, CEO de Engine-4, expresó de forma sencilla a El Nuevo Día: la tecnología salva vidas cuando se pone al servicio de las personas y con la impresión 3D es posible fabricar ayudas médicas de manera rápida y eficiente para apoyar a los más necesitados; no como sustituto de un dispositivo médico, sino como un puente temporal para ayudar a la gente mientras llega la atención adecuada. Torres describió cómo una red que comenzó con 37 personas creció hasta 965 miembros dispuestos a colaborar para hacer llegar suministros médicos a puntos dentro y fuera de Venezuela,Engine-4 produciendo más de 100 férulas en un par de días para apoyar la iniciativa.

Engine-4 también alberga el primer Gigalab de re:3D, nuestra sede en Puerto Rico, así que este esfuerzo se sintió muy cercano. Dentro del Gigalab, imprimimos férulas de muñeca en lotes de cuatro (dos medianas y dos grandes, una izquierda y una derecha de cada una) y nuestro diseño de inmovilizador de rodilla en Gigabot 4, la única impresora disponible lo suficientemente grande para el trabajo.

Férula de rodilla y lote de 4 férulas de muñeca.

De un diseño a una familia de férulas de código abierto

Inspirados por ese llamado a la acción, decidimos sumarnos usando la férula de muñeca original de Ostec3D como punto de partida: su diseño nos dio la referencia ergonómica y el ajuste anatómico para la muñeca. A partir de ahí, desarrollamos nuestra propia estructura reticular interna, diseñada para alcanzar un nivel específico de rigidez después del termoformado. y construimos todo el sistema de forma paramétrica en Rhino Grasshopper (con la ayuda del plugin de nuestros compañeros Autodesk Research Residents de Reer AI) para mantener el grosor del patrón constante sin importar el tamaño o la forma de la pieza. Esa flexibilidad fue lo que nos permitió ir más allá de la férula de muñeca y añadir una férula de dedo y un inmovilizador de rodilla a la familia.

Definición de Grasshopper para el patrón de diamante con diseño y espaciado uniforme.

Cada pieza de la familia se imprime de forma plana, se calienta en agua tibia, con pistola de calor o cualquier fuente de calor adecuada y se moldea directamente sobre la persona que la usará. La estructura reticulada abierta la mantiene ligera y transpirable, algo práctico en un entorno donde cada minuto y gramo de filamento cuentan.

De la impresora a su destino

Imprimir las piezas es solo la mitad del trabajo; hacerlas llegar a quienes las necesitan es la otra mitad. Ahí es donde Luis Torres y la Engine-4 Foundation volvieron a intervenir, imprimiendo y despachando férulas junto con el resto de la red. Las piezas se enviaron en aviones privados y a través de empresas de logística a centros confirmados de respuesta ante terremotos, coordinados en gran parte a través de comunidades venezolanas en Florida y Nueva York.

Compartiéndolo de vuelta

Con el mismo espíritu con el que Ostec3D comenzó todo esto, estamos liberando nuestra familia de férulas—de muñeca,dedo (larga y de sección media) e inmovilizador de rodilla— de forma gratuita en Thingiverse y Cults3D como parte de nuestra iniciativa #FreePrintFriday. La descarga incluye archivos .STEP, el archivo original de Rhino y la definición de Grasshopper para que cualquiera pueda imprimir, adaptar o construir sobre el sistema para ayuda humanitaria. Todo el crédito a Ostec3D por la inspiración y por abrir el camino.

Nota sobre el uso: estas férulas están pensadas para estabilización temporal mientras se busca atención médica adecuada; un puente, no un reemplazo de un yeso, una férula o tratamiento profesional. La información completa sobre uso, seguridad y descargos de responsabilidad está incluida en las publicaciones de Thingiverse y Cults3D.

Otras formas de ayudar

Desde entonces, Ostec3D ha compartido que la comunidad ha producido más de 20,000 férulas, suficientes como para pedirle a los makers que revisen y se enfoquen en otras necesidades actuales aparte de las férulas.

Imprimir es solo una pieza de un esfuerzo mucho más grande de ayuda, con innumerables organizaciones y equipos de primera respuesta trabajando sobre el terreno en Venezuela. Algunas formas de involucrarse directamente:

Sigue a PrintForHelp – la plataforma comunitaria sin fines de lucro que coordina la respuesta de impresión 3D, con centros de acopio y solicitudes de piezas en tiempo real. Las necesidades cambian con el tiempo, así que revisa sus solicitudes más recientes antes de imprimir.

Dona a Cáritas de Venezuela – una de las mayores respuestas sobre el terreno ante el terremoto en el país, entregando ayuda y asistiendo directamente a las familias afectadas. Las donaciones económicas llegan a personas a quienes las piezas impresas por sí solas no pueden alcanzar.

Gracias

Lo que más resalta de todo esto no son los archivos ni las impresoras, sino la disposición de una comunidad a dejar lo que está haciendo para ayudar. Ostec3D abrió la puerta al compartir su trabajo libremente. Redes como la de la que forman parte Luis Torres y Engine-4 Foundation convirtieron eso en cientos de férulas que llegaron a los necesitados en cuestión de días. Estamos agradecidos de ser parte de esa cadena y esperamos que compartir nuestros archivos ayude a que siga creciendo.

Si imprimes, adaptas o encuentras una forma de ayudar, nos encantaría saberlo.

Fuentes:  Ostec3D’s original splint design and shared files; El Nuevo Día, “De Bayamón a Venezuela: usan la impresión 3D para ayudar a heridos por los terremotos”; UN News, “Venezuela earthquake death toll passes 1,700 as UN continues to scale up response”; NPR, “Untold casualties and humanitarian needs: What to know a week from Venezuela’s quakes.”

Michael pujols Vázquez

Blog Post Author

2026 Summer Internship Perspectives
Dream Big, Print HUGE: From a Broken Printer to 3D Printing a Drone

“Dream Big, Print HUGE” was the phrase I kept running into while researching the company I’d decided to spend my summer with. I’ve always tried to be someone who dreams big. I was one of the only people from my graduating class in Arkansas to leave the state for college, and I’ve spent the years since trying to reach for things that weren’t handed to me. So there I was, 20 years old, moving into my own place in a city where I knew almost no one, fully supporting myself for the first time. “I made it,” I remember thinking, walking down South Congress the night I moved in, staring up at the Austin skyline.

On my first day I left the house early, and I knew I’d landed somewhere good the moment I saw that same mantra painted on the side of the building. Justin Turner, a face I’d only ever seen on a screen, met me at the door and walked me around, showing me where I’d be sitting for the next 12 weeks. Then came 9 a.m. and my first of many daily standups. I introduced myself and immediately felt welcomed in a way I hadn’t expected. Everyone seemed to be working on the coolest project in the building, and I wanted in on all of it. At the end of that first standup, Taylor Boutté asked me to go around and repeat everyone’s name back. Time stopped. I couldn’t even remember the name of the person standing next to me. The room went dead silent for what felt like forever, and then everyone started laughing. That was the moment I knew I’d landed with the right group of people, and that I was about to have a great summer.

Week one was simple by design: learning how re:3D operates, getting familiar with LFAM machines, figuring out how my skills translated to the Gigabot, and designing shelf organizers for production parts. I was itching to get my hands on the biggest printers I’d ever seen, but I also knew bigger machines meant bigger problems, so I took it slow. That patience paid off when I got to tag along on a customer service visit to the ReStore and see one of our printers out in the wild for the first time. I helped diagnose and replace a faulty limit switch causing a z-homing issue, then watched and practiced leveling a TerabotX bed, a process that was completely foreign to me and unique to a printer that size.

That introduction to customer support ran alongside my first contract printing project: a set of dual-color rings for a customer. I shadowed Justin as he quoted the job, and he walked me through a pipeline I’d never seen before, accounting for material mass, support removal time, slicing time, and a handful of other variables the customer never even sees. His patience explaining all of it, to someone who’d never touched a contract print before, set the tone for how I approached everything else that summer. I helped remove support material, watched how the team interacted with customers, and prepped parts for handoff.

Once I’d built up some confidence around the printers, I started running jobs on my own. Pressing print for the first time, watching the nozzle creep toward the build plate, my heart in my throat: that nervousness was real. But finishing my first contract print from start to finish, from quote to slice to final part (my first time working outside PC filament), made it worth every second. I picked up the routine fast: check for contract requests, quote, print, remove supports, hand parts off to the Army Sequential and LunaRecycle teams.

In my spare time I wandered both buildings, soaking up every project the company had ever pushed through: a full-size surfboard, a project meant to 3D print on the moon, you name it. My curiosity kept getting the better of me. That’s how I found BlackBot: an abandoned printer sitting in the corner of the R&D building. No extruder, cables routed in a spaghetti pattern, panels missing, couldn’t even power on. I looked at that machine like it was an abandoned kid nobody had time for, and decided I’d be the one to bring it back.

Getting BlackBot running was its own education. The Y-axis wouldn’t move without a sharp grinding sound, and with Mitchell Mashburn’s help troubleshooting the code, we traced it to the Y1 stepper driver and rerouted it to a spare port. From there it was a slow, steady process of versioning a machine I’d never built and barely understood. When I noticed the aluminum extrusion the Z rails rode on had been cut short, I knew this project was going to take some creative problem-solving, which turned out to be my favorite kind. Along the way I redesigned and modified a handful of production parts in SolidWorks, including a custom Y belt tensioner mount to fit the machine’s odd geometry.

Domenic Cordova trusted me with a Beacon surface scanner to help test the rebuild, new technology to me and honestly kind of magic, turning a warped build surface into a highly accurate bed mesh in a few seconds. The stock mount wasn’t built for BlackBot’s linear-rail Y-axis, so I got to go back to the drawing board and design my own: one that bolts to the hardware mounting the carriage to the slide and lets the Beacon sit snugly between the two nozzles without getting in the way of any parts. Having someone hand me a piece of expensive lab equipment and basically say “figure it out” meant more to me than I think Domenic realized.

Even with BlackBot printing again, there was still plenty left to do: no proper cable carrier, rusted linear rails, missing panels. I spent hours sourcing parts, routing more wire than I’d like to admit, and mounting everything back into place. Piece by piece, BlackBot came back to life. And when Domenic lent me one of his MicroSwiss hotends for testing production components, I knew he’d started trusting my work, which meant redesigning my Beacon mount again, this time extending the arm 15mm for clearance. That hotend was the last piece before BlackBot earned a new name: EagleBot, officially back in production.

My favorite project of the summer, hands down, was the rPP drone build. I’ve always liked projects where I can follow a process from start to finish and actually own every parameter along the way. We were handed old polypropylene gas filter canisters from Fort Leonard Wood, and my job was turning them back into usable feedstock. Working alongside Jake Celmo, we built and documented the entire process, from virgin canister to granulated feedstock, meant to be used company-wide. That project sharpened my documentation and communication skills more than anything else I did this summer, and Jake’s patience walking through it with me made it stick.

From there, the project pushed me: polymer characteristics, profile development, a material that felt like it was actively fighting me. rPP only wants to stick to itself, so the temperature differential between the heated bed, cooled layers, and fresh plastic became the whole battle. Chris Hong was the resident expert on printing PP, and I leaned on him constantly. We tried sheets of packing tape (also polypropylene, and by far the most effective, if a pain to reapply every print), PP sheets held down with clamps, and various glues, all of which lost to the tape. Chris never made me feel bad for asking the same question three different ways until it clicked.

Past the adhesion problem, the drone frame itself hadn’t been designed with FFF printing in mind: thin outer ducts that bowed near the top and killed surface contact, plus zero retraction on the GBX printer, which made every travel move a liability instead of a convenience. So I redesigned the frame around single-path extrusion, connecting the ducts with one continuous outer wall to boost layer adhesion up top and reduce cracking, and softened the angle of the ducts to maximize contact area without giving up the aerodynamics.

Dialing in the print profile was its own project. A raft made warping worse; a wide brim turned out to be the fix, giving me somewhere to add weight and counteract the tape’s lifting adhesive. Concentric fill on the first layer and infill rounded things out; the geometry’s holes lent themselves naturally to that shape.

If a 13-year-old me, who’d just bought my first printer and started making in his basement, could see where I am now, I don’t think he’d believe it. I came into this summer knowing how to run a hobby printer and left having rebuilt one from the ground up, run contract jobs from quote to delivery, and helped push a genuinely new material into a real application. None of that happens alone. Justin taught me what it actually takes to run a print business, not just a printer. Mitchell talked me through code I had no business understanding on day one. Domenic handed me equipment most interns never touch and let me learn by doing. Jake and Chris both gave me their time, over and over, on a project that was as much theirs as mine by the end. And the whole team, starting with that standup where I blanked on everyone’s name, made a kid from Arkansas who knew nobody in Austin feel like he belonged from week one.

I came to re:3D wanting to dream big. I’m leaving with a much clearer idea of what that actually takes: the patience to fix something nobody else wants to touch, the humility to ask the same question until you get it, and the confidence that comes from watching an idea go from a pile of broken parts to something flying. That’s not a bad summer’s work.

Westley kleinman

Blog Post Author