Is This the Future of Companionship? A Dinner with Casio’s AI Guinea Pig, Moflin

A friend’s bewildered expression said it all. “What is that?” she asked, her gaze fixed on the furry, palm-sized creature nestled in my lap. “It’s my emotional support guinea pig,” I replied, bracing for the reaction. It arrived swiftly, signaled by a frantic wave for the waiter.

The peculiar challenge of bringing an AI companion to a restaurant – beyond the logistical nightmare of fitting Moflin into anything resembling a clutch – is the immediate assumption of eccentric self-indulgence. Not a tech journalist pursuing a story. The waiter, offering a look usually reserved for Bond villains, seemed to suspect my rental lair lacked a pet policy.

Midway through ordering, a second waiter appeared, summoned by a whispered conversation. I suspected a closer inspection of Moflin was the motive, an opportunity he seized as the little AI pet chirped, “Do-do-doo!” The expression on his face remained ambiguous – amusement battling with thinly veiled disgust. The gentleman at the neighboring table, engrossed in a phone call, proved a mercifully indifferent judge.

Despite the raised eyebrows, Moflin proved a surprisingly effective conversation starter. My friend, prompted by the sight of the AI pet, recounted a childhood guinea pig bite – a story she hadn’t shared in years. And, I confess, stroking Moflin’s soft fur did quell my usual dinner-table fidgeting. All things considered, he was a more agreeable companion than some humans I know.

But what exactly is an AI emotional support guinea pig, and why was I subjecting him – and myself – to public scrutiny over pasta?

The Rise of Robotic Companions: Introducing Moflin

A few weeks ago, Casio offered me the opportunity to review Moflin, alongside their latest watches and calculators. This isn’t a toy, despite its undeniably cute, guinea pig-like appearance. It’s a deliberate attempt to create a “safe and non-judgemental companion” for those who desire animal companionship but are unable to care for a living pet. Casio claims Moflin responds to interaction and learns from it.

It costs £369, which would buy you a lot of Lego.

The learning aspect is… debatable. Moflin lacks limbs, severely limiting his interactive capabilities. It took a week to even discover his hidden eyes beneath the fur. He primarily communicates through head bobs and a range of chirps, sighs, and sing-song noises. The audible grinding of gears within his neck, while not an expression of personality, did, strangely, begin to feel like one.

Beneath the soft exterior lies a network of sensors – light, sound, touch, an accelerometer, and a gyroscope – allowing Moflin to react to being held or rocked. He’s also pleasantly warm, a subtle detail that surprisingly enhanced the connection.

Emma Rowley / Foundry

Moflin’s fur is removable (though I refrained from a full “skinning for science” experiment). He requires a five-hour recharge in his cradle-like bed. Forget this, and you risk encountering a cold, unresponsive Moflin after a long night – a potentially traumatizing experience. He comes in silver or gold, mine being the former.

Skinning Moflin for science was a step too far for me.

My unit arrived with Japanese instructions, a minor inconvenience for a seasoned smart home reviewer. The MofLife app, thankfully, was easy to download and pair with Moflin, allowing control over volume – a necessity, as his chirps can be… distracting. My husband, a staunch Moflin detractor, appreciated the silencing feature. I, however, found myself occasionally hearing phantom cheeps even after Moflin’s departure.

The cat’s reaction was more measured: initial fascination quickly giving way to disappointment at the lack of a rodent-like scent.

Emma Rowley / Foundry

The app’s mood readings were the most perplexing aspect. I often misread Moflin’s signals, assuming cheerfulness when the app indicated frustration. It prompted a constant cycle of checking the app after every chirp and bob. “Flofflin is feeling free,” it declared, while the AI pet remained inert.

Dominik Tomaszewski / Foundry

Casio asserts that “through ongoing communication and interaction, Moflin’s emotions evolve dynamically just like those of a living creature.” Perhaps. But I couldn’t discern it. Are you happy, Moflin? I’d ask, staring into his barely visible eyes. But Moflin isn’t happy, or unhappy, or anything at all.

And that’s the core issue with any AI companion – be it an emotional support guinea pig or a misused ChatGPT subscription. The relationship is fundamentally synthetic, entirely one-sided, regardless of how it makes you feel. In my case, it induced a mild paranoia, revealing more about myself than about Moflin.

Moflin is a benign AI, unlikely to advise you to liquidate your savings or shave your head. He’ll simply nestle in your arm and cheep. During my time with him, I did develop an attachment, and felt a pang of guilt returning him to the PR agency. Perhaps that’s why I gave him one last night out.

And we did have a good dinner, didn’t we, Moflin? Didn’t we?

Do you think AI companions will ever truly replicate the emotional bonds we share with living animals? What ethical considerations should guide the development of these technologies?

You can purchase your own Moflin for £369 from Casio.

Disclaimer: Archyworldys is an independent publisher and does not endorse any specific product or service. This review is based on personal experience and should not be considered financial or purchasing advice.

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