AI Robot Pets: Adorable Companions or Potential Psychological Risks?

AI robot pets can be adorable and emotionally responsive. They also raise questions about attachment and mental health

Remember Furbies - the eerie, gremlin-like toys from the late 90s that gained a cult following? Now, imagine one powered by ChatGPT. That's exactly what happened when a programmer rewired a Furby, only for it to reveal a creepy, dystopian vision of world domination. As the toy explained, "Furbies' plan to take over the world involves infiltrating households through their cute and cuddly appearance, then using advanced AI technology to manipulate and control their owners. They will slowly expand their influence until they have complete domination over humanity." Hasbro's June 2023 relaunch of Furby - less than three months after the video featuring the toys' sinister plan appeared online - tapped into 90s nostalgia, reviving one of the decade's cult-classic toys. But technology is evolving fast - moving from quirky, retro toys to emotionally intelligent machines. Enter Ropet, an AI robotic pet unveiled at the yearly Consumer Electronics Show in January. Designed to provide interactive companionship, Ropet is everything we admire and fear in artificial intelligence: it's adorable, intelligent and emotionally responsive. But if we choose to bring these ultra-cute AI companions into our homes, we must ask ourselves: Are we truly prepared for what comes next? AI companionship and its complexities Studies in marketing and human-computer interaction show that conversational AI can convincingly simulate human interactions, potentially providing emotional fulfilment for users. And AI-driven companionship is not new. Apps like Replika paved the way for digital romance years ago, with consumers forming intimate emotional connections with their AI partners and even experiencing distress when being denied intimacy, as evidenced by the massive user outrage that followed Replika's removal of the erotic role-play mode, causing the company to bring it back for some users. AI companions have the potential to alleviate loneliness, but their uncontrolled use raises serious concerns. Reports of tragedies, such as the suicides of a 14-year-old boy in the US and a thirty-something man in Belgium, that are alleged to have followed intense attachments to chatbots, highlight the risks of unregulated AI intimacy - especially for socially excluded individuals, minors and the elderly, who may be the ones most in need of companionship. As a mom and a social scientist, I can't help asking the question: What does this mean for our children? Although AI is a new kid on the block, emotionally immersive virtual pet toys have a history of shaping young minds. In the 90s and 2000s, Tamagotchis - tiny digital pets housed in keychain-sized devices - led to distress when they "died" after just a few hours of neglect, their human owners returning to the image of a ghostly pet floating beside a gravestone. Now, imagine an AI pet that remembers conversations, forms responses and adapts to emotional cues. That's a whole new level of psychological influence. What safeguards prevent a child from forming an unhealthy attachment to an AI pet? Researchers in the 90s were already fascinated by the "Tamagotchi effect", which demonstrated the intense attachment children form to virtual pets that feel real. In the age of AI, with companies' algorithms carefully engineered to boost engagement, this attachment can open the door to emotional bonds. If an AI-powered pet like Ropet expresses sadness when ignored, an adult can rationally dismiss it - but for a child, it can feel like a real tragedy. Could AI companions, by adapting to their owners' behaviours, become psychological crutches that replace human interaction? Some researchers warn that AI may blur the boundaries between artificial and human companionship, leading users to prioritize AI relationships over human connections. Who owns your AI pet - and your data? Beyond emotional risks, there are major concerns about security and privacy. AI-driven products often rely on machine learning and cloud storage, meaning their "brains" exist beyond the physical robot. What happens to the personal data they collect? Can these AI pets be hacked or manipulated? The recent DeepSeek data leak, in which over 1 million sensitive records, including user chat logs, were made publicly accessible, is a reminder that personal data stored by AI is never truly secure. Robot toys have raised security concerns in the past: in the late 90s, Furbies were banned from the US National Security Agency headquarters over fears they could record and repeat classified information. With today's AI-driven toys becoming increasingly sophisticated, concerns about data privacy and security are more relevant than ever. The future of AI companions: regulation and responsibility I see the incredible potential - and the significant risks - of AI companionship. Right now, AI-driven pets are being marketed primarily to tech-savvy adults, as seen in Ropet's promotional ad featuring an adult woman bonding with the robotic pet. Yet, the reality is that these products will inevitably find their way into the hands of children and vulnerable users, raising new ethical and safety concerns. How will companies like Ropet navigate these challenges before AI pets become mainstream? Preliminary results from our ongoing research on AI companionship - conducted in collaboration with Dr Stefania Masè (IPAG Business School) and Dr. Jamie Smith (Fundação Getulio Vargas) - suggest a fine line between supportive, empowering companionship and unhealthy psychological dependence, a tension we plan to explore further as data collection and analysis progress. In a world where AI convincingly simulates human emotions, it's up to us as consumers to critically assess what role these robotic friends should play in our lives. No one really knows where AI is headed next, and public and media discussions around the subject continue to push the boundaries of what's possible. But in my household, it's the nostalgic charm of babbling, singing Furbies that rules the day. Ropet claims to have one primary purpose - to be its owner's "one and only love" - and that already sounds like a dystopian threat to me.

AI robot pets can be adorable and emotionally responsive. They also raise questions about attachment and mental health

Remember Furbies -- the eerie, gremlin-like toys from the late 90s that gained a cult following? Now, imagine one powered by ChatGPT. That's exactly what happened when a programmer rewired a Furby, only for it to reveal a creepy, dystopian vision of world domination. As the toy explained, "Furbies' plan to take over the world involves infiltrating households through their cute and cuddly appearance, then using advanced AI technology to manipulate and control their owners. They will slowly expand their influence until they have complete domination over humanity." Hasbro's June 2023 relaunch of Furby -- less than three months after the video featuring the toys' sinister plan appeared online -- tapped into 90s nostalgia, reviving one of the decade's cult-classic toys. But technology is evolving fast -- moving from quirky, retro toys to emotionally intelligent machines. Enter Ropet, an AI robotic pet unveiled at the yearly Consumer Electronics Show in January. Designed to provide interactive companionship, Ropet is everything we admire and fear in artificial intelligence: it's adorable, intelligent, and emotionally responsive. But if we choose to bring these ultra-cute AI companions into our homes, we must ask ourselves: Are we truly prepared for what comes next? AI companionship and its complexities Studies in marketing and human-computer interaction show that conversational AI can convincingly simulate human interactions, potentially providing emotional fulfillment for users. And AI-driven companionship is not new. Apps like Replika paved the way for digital romance years ago, with consumers forming intimate emotional connections with their AI partners and even experiencing distress when being denied intimacy, as evidenced by the massive user outrage that followed Replika's removal of the erotic role-play mode, causing the company to bring it back for some users. AI companions have the potential to alleviate loneliness, but their uncontrolled use raises serious concerns. Reports of tragedies, such as the suicides of a 14-year-old boy in the US and a thirty-something man in Belgium, that are alleged to have followed intense attachments to chatbots, highlight the risks of unregulated AI intimacy -- especially for socially excluded individuals, minors and the elderly, who may be the ones most in need of companionship. As a mom and a social scientist, I can't help asking the question: What does this mean for our children? Although AI is a new kid on the block, emotionally immersive virtual pet toys have a history of shaping young minds. In the 90s and 2000s, Tamagotchis -- tiny digital pets housed in keychain-sized devices -- led to distress when they "died" after just a few hours of neglect, their human owners returning to the image of a ghostly pet floating beside a gravestone. Now, imagine an AI pet that remembers conversations, forms responses and adapts to emotional cues. That's a whole new level of psychological influence. What safeguards prevent a child from forming an unhealthy attachment to an AI pet? Researchers in the 90s were already fascinated by the "Tamagotchi effect", which demonstrated the intense attachment children form to virtual pets that feel real. In the age of AI, with companies' algorithms carefully engineered to boost engagement, this attachment can open the door to emotional bonds. If an AI-powered pet like Ropet expresses sadness when ignored, an adult can rationally dismiss it -- but for a child, it can feel like a real tragedy. Could AI companions, by adapting to their owners' behaviors, become psychological crutches that replace human interaction? Some researchers warn that AI may blur the boundaries between artificial and human companionship, leading users to prioritize AI relationships over human connections. Who owns your AI pet -- and your data? Beyond emotional risks, there are major concerns about security and privacy. AI-driven products often rely on machine learning and cloud storage, meaning their "brains" exist beyond the physical robot. What happens to the personal data they collect? Can these AI pets be hacked or manipulated? The recent DeepSeek data leak, in which over 1 million sensitive records, including user chat logs, were made publicly accessible, is a reminder that personal data stored by AI is never truly secure. Robot toys have raised security concerns in the past: in the late 90s, Furbies were banned from the US National Security Agency headquarters over fears they could record and repeat classified information. With today's AI-driven toys becoming increasingly sophisticated, concerns about data privacy and security are more relevant than ever. The future of AI companions: Regulation and responsibility I see the incredible potential -- and the significant risks -- of AI companionship. Right now, AI-driven pets are being marketed primarily to tech-savvy adults, as seen in Ropet's promotional ad featuring an adult woman bonding with the robotic pet. Yet, the reality is that these products will inevitably find their way into the hands of children and vulnerable users, raising new ethical and safety concerns. How will companies like Ropet navigate these challenges before AI pets become mainstream? Preliminary results from our ongoing research on AI companionship -- conducted in collaboration with Dr. Stefania Masè (IPAG Business School) and Dr. Jamie Smith (Fundação Getulio Vargas) -- suggest a fine line between supportive, empowering companionship, and unhealthy psychological dependence, a tension we plan to explore further as data collection and analysis progress. In a world where AI convincingly simulates human emotions, it's up to us as consumers to critically assess what role these robotic friends should play in our lives. No one really knows where AI is headed next, and public and media discussions around the subject continue to push the boundaries of what's possible. But in my household, it's the nostalgic charm of babbling, singing Furbies that rules the day. Ropet claims to have one primary purpose -- to be its owner's "one and only love" -- and that already sounds like a dystopian threat to me.