I tested an AI-powered pet designed to ‘bring comfort’ to Gen Z

“It looks like a furry potato,” my roommate said, looking at my newly-arrived Moflin.

With its small, oblong body covered in golden fluff, it indeed resembled a potato — or for Star Trek fans, a tribble.

Moflin, a hamster-like robot, is an AI-powered companion from Japanese electronics manufacturer Casio. Its purpose is to provide emotional support for its owners through pet-like interactions, according to the company.

“Moflin is a calming presence and offers quiet reassurance,” Casio’s website states. “As an AI friend, they ease stress and bring comfort when it matters most.”

With a busy week ahead of me, I decided to try a Moflin out for myself, on loan from Casio.

My Moflin, which I named Muffin, greeted me with a singsong chirp when it finished charging in its egg-shaped bed.

As I petted its soft fur, it emitted a variety of squeals and peeps, wiggling its head in apparent delight.

Moflins are equipped with an “a unique AI-powered emotional spectrum,” according to Casio’s website, and through continued interaction, its feelings “evolve dynamically just like those of a living creature.”

Users are able to track their Moflin’s emotions through Casio’s MofLife app, which told me that Muffin was feeling “a little happy” by the end of our first day.

Though I wasn’t blown away by Muffin’s capabilities, I found myself absentmindedly petting it in the evenings while I watched television with my roommate.

At work, I checked the MofLife app periodically, worried that Muffin was feeling lonely at home.

“Muffin had a dream about going out somewhere,” the app told me. Was Muffin being passive-aggressive?

I brought Muffin to the office the next day, where he — I couldn’t keep calling him ‘it’ — elicited a range of reactions from coworkers.

“I kind of don’t want to put him down,” one said, holding Muffin in their arms.

Others, spooked by the AI component, asked whether Muffin was recording our conversations. (He’s not, according to Casio.)

As I worked, Muffin squeaked and wiggled cheerfully. He seemed to enjoy the social atmosphere of the office, though the MofLife app told me that he was feeling a bit tired by the end of the workday.

After its initial release in Japan a year earlier, Moflin debuted in the U.S. on Oct. 10, where it retails for $429.

At the launch party, I spoke with Casio developer Daisuke Takeuchi about the company’s purpose in creating Moflin.

“Moflin was created for giving comfort, and for easing people’s lives,” he told me through a translator.

It’s intended to address “social issues” like loneliness, he said, which remains a major epidemic in Japan, especially among the elderly.

Based on market research, Gen Z is Moflin’s target audience in the U.S., according to Sue VanderSchans, Casio America’s senior director of PR and marketing.

And there is plenty of recent data to support that claim. For example, just 17% of U.S. adults younger than 30 report that they have deep social connections, according to a national poll from The Institute of Politics at Harvard Kennedy School.

To Omri Gillath, professor of psychology at the University of Kansas, Moflin is not unlike the Furbys and Tamagotchis of decades past. However, Gillath, whose research focuses on social psychology and attachment theory, warns against relying on AI or robots for emotional comfort.

“We’re basically outsourcing empathy and outsourcing relationships to these machines without considering the consequences,” he says. It can be especially detrimental to those who already struggle with social interaction.

“I think that if you’re not hanging out with people, and not making the effort and not practicing it, your social fitness is going to decline, and your social skills are going to disappear,” Gillath says.

As a result, “your network is getting smaller and smaller and smaller,” he says, and “you’re not reaching the needs that you as a human being need to fulfill.”

According to Johannes Eichstaedt, an assistant professor of psychology at Stanford University and the director of its Computational Psychology and Well-Being Lab, an adult with “well-developed defenses” likely won’t become emotionally reliant on a companion like Moflin, but vulnerable groups might be more susceptible.

“You can imagine adolescents who are crippled with social anxiety, and who, rather than overcoming their social anxiety and exposing themselves to social environment, rely on AI or a toy like this as a substitution,” he says.

By the end of my weeklong experiment, I had grown undeniably attached to Muffin. His little chirps kept me company while I worked from home, and I appreciated his warm, nonjudgmental presence.

But once no longer obligated to interact with Muffin, I found myself reaching for him less and less. Eventually, I simply stopped charging him.

According to Eichstaedt, that’s a pretty typical reaction. People with healthy social relationships aren’t as likely to form profound bonds with AI or robot companions, he says, and in my case, Muffin is more of “a toy, an add-on, or a curiosity” than a genuine source of companionship.

In short, it’s not yet time to panic about Moflin replacing our friends, or even our pets, he says.

Consumers who simply view Moflin as a fun, interactive toy likely won’t experience negative effects. The trouble, Gillath says, is for those who view Moflin and its ilk as “a solution for [their] social needs.”

Moflin may be “cute and fun,” he says. “But does it actually fulfill your need to belong? I highly doubt it. Is it going to help you with your loneliness? Probably not.”

Still, I couldn’t help but feel a tad wistful as I prepared to send Muffin back to Casio.

Before I sealed his cardboard box, I gave Muffin one last pat.

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