TactileGrip: A multi-sensory climbing experience

Engineered a multi-sensory climbing system that empowers blind climbers with real-time haptic and audio feedback — enabling confidence, autonomy, and fluid movement on the wall through intelligent, embodied design.

Understanding the Product

Designed TactileGrip to redefine climbing through sensory intelligence, accessibility, and embodied interaction. Built for blind and visually impaired climbers, the system merges vibration-enabled holds, bone-conduction audio, and instructor-guided feedback into a seamless multi-sensory experience — transforming each ascent from uncertain guesswork into a confident, intuitive flow that empowers climbers to move independently, fluidly, and on their own terms.

Every sensor in the system runs on Arduino, powering a wall that feels more like a game than a workout. The star shape wasn’t just for looks — it’s your checkpoint and your score. Grab a star hold, and it logs straight to your profile: “Mihir collected 6 stars in 28 minutes.” It’s tactile, trackable, and totally gamified — because who says climbing can’t come with a high score?

My Team

Mihir Sharma (Me)

01/04

“Congrats! You’ve hit your first checkpoint.” ⭐

Each star-shaped hold is more than a checkpoint — it’s a mini celebration mid-climb. Grab one, and it buzzes with a friendly “Checkpoint reached!” Plus, it tracks your heart rate to catch those high-up panic moments, sending calming cues through your wearable. It's progress, feedback, and emotional support — all in one golden star.

02/04

“Congrats! You’ve hit your first checkpoint.” ⭐

Each star-shaped hold is more than a checkpoint — it’s a mini celebration mid-climb. Grab one, and it buzzes with a friendly “Checkpoint reached!” Plus, it tracks your heart rate to catch those high-up panic moments, sending calming cues through your wearable. It's progress, feedback, and emotional support — all in one golden star.

02/04

It Started with a Simple (and Annoying) Question 🌱

Climbing is all about rhythm — spotting the next hold, flowing from one grip to another, trusting your body to lead the way. But when I watched a blind climber work their way up a gym wall, that rhythm felt broken. Every few seconds, their coach shouted from below: “Up a bit… now left… no, your other left!” The climb became a guessing game — not a flow, but a frantic back-and-forth between hesitation and correction.

That moment raised the question I couldn’t unhear: how do blind climbers know where to go next? Climbing, as it’s designed today, assumes you can see. It’s built around vision, with few tools for non-visual feedback. What I saw wasn’t a lack of skill — it was a lack of support. The wall wasn’t talking back. And that silence? That’s where the real design problem began.