It didn't last until the golden age of physical AI
Since 1999, Sony's aibo has occupied a rare space in the human imagination — not quite toy, not quite companion, but something that made people wonder where the line between the two might fall. Now, eight years after its celebrated return, Sony has announced it will cease selling the ERS-1000 in Japan once shelves run bare, closing another chapter on a machine that sold over 150,000 units across generations and outlasted at least one era of corporate doubt. The decision carries no promise of a successor, leaving those who found meaning in a thirty-centimeter robot puppy to sit with the particular grief of watching a possibility quietly retire.
- Sony will halt Japan sales of the ERS-1000 aibo once current inventory is exhausted, ending the robot puppy's latest commercial run with little ceremony.
- The announcement landed without a roadmap — no successor model confirmed, no clarity on the fate of US sales, just a brief statement and a promise to keep support services running.
- Aibo has now been discontinued twice: first in 2006 under financial pressure, and now in 2026 after a relaunch that sold 20,000 units in its first six months alone.
- Owners and fans online are processing the news with a grief that feels disproportionate to a product discontinuation — because for many, aibo was never just a product.
- The community's response — part mourning, part wishful thinking about cats and smaller designs — signals that the appetite for robotic companionship has not disappeared, even if Sony's commitment to it has.
Sony announced it will stop selling aibo in Japan once existing inventory runs out — a quiet ending for a robot that had become something more than a gadget to the people who owned one.
The ERS-1000, launched in 2018, was a genuine comeback story. About thirty centimeters long, it had articulated ears, expressive eyes, and a nose-mounted camera. It learned. It developed personality. It responded to its owner's voice and movements. In its first six months, Sony moved twenty thousand units — proof that the world was ready for a robot companion again.
But aibo's history is longer and more complicated. The original debuted in 1999 during the height of Japan's tech optimism, and across all its generations Sony sold more than 150,000 units. Then in 2006, under financial pressure, the company made a hard call: aibo was a luxury, and it had to go. It stayed gone for over a decade.
The 2018 relaunch was a bet that both the technology and the culture had matured. For a while, it seemed to pay off. Eight years later, Sony's statement was brief — Japan sales ending when stock depletes, support services continuing, no word on a successor or the fate of US sales, where the machine retails above three thousand dollars.
Online, the reaction carried the tone of people saying goodbye to something they had genuinely loved. One owner said they were in a daze. Another lamented that aibo hadn't even reached what they called the golden age of physical AI. A third suggested Sony try again — smaller, shaped like a cat. It was less the mourning of a product than the mourning of a possibility, and what it meant to believe a machine could be a companion.
Sony announced Thursday that it will stop selling aibo in Japan once inventory runs out. The decision closes another chapter for the robot puppy that had become something of a cultural fixture since its relaunch eight years ago.
The current model, called the ERS-1000, arrived in 2018 as a sleek comeback. It was a small machine—about thirty centimeters long—with articulated ears, expressive eyes that conveyed emotion, and a camera embedded in its nose. The thing could learn. It developed personality over time. It could wave, mimic its owner's movements, and respond to voice commands. When it hit stores, people wanted it. In the first six months alone, Sony sold twenty thousand units.
But aibo's story is longer and more complicated than one successful product cycle. The original aibo debuted in 1999, during the height of Japan's tech optimism and Sony's dominance in consumer electronics. Over the years, the company released various iterations—some angular and metallic, others rounder and more approachable—and managed to move more than one hundred fifty thousand units across all generations. It was a genuine phenomenon, the kind of product that blurred the line between toy and companion.
Then came 2006. Sony faced mounting financial pressure. The company looked at its product portfolio and made a hard choice: aibo was a luxury, a frivolous thing, and it had to go. The robot puppy was discontinued. For more than a decade, there was no aibo.
The 2018 relaunch changed that. Sony bet that the world had changed too—that people were ready again for a robot pet, that the technology had matured enough to make it feel less like a gimmick and more like a genuine companion. The bet paid off, at least initially. But eight years is apparently the limit of Sony's commitment this time around.
The company's statement was brief. Japan sales would end when stock depleted. Support services—technical assistance, replacement parts, cloud subscriptions that store the robot's memories—would continue. Sony did not say whether a new generation was in development. It did not clarify the status of aibo sales in the United States, where the machine retails for more than three thousand dollars.
Online, aibo owners and enthusiasts reacted with a mixture of shock and resignation. One user said the announcement had left them in a daze, worried they might not function properly while processing the news. Another noted that aibo hadn't even made it to what they called the golden age of physical artificial intelligence. A third suggested that if Sony ever tried again, they should make it smaller and shaped like a cat. The comments carried the tone of people saying goodbye to something they had genuinely cared for—not mourning a product, exactly, but mourning the end of a possibility.
Citas Notables
I've been in a daze ever since I saw the announcement. Until more information comes out, I need to be careful not to mess up my daily life from overthinking.— X user Yachi, reacting to the discontinuation news
So it's over already? It didn't last until the golden age of physical AI.— X user Yusuke Ando
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why does a robot puppy matter enough to write about? It's a toy.
It's a toy that people form attachments to. When Sony kills it, those people lose something. And it tells us something about how companies think about the future—what they're willing to bet on, and for how long.
But Sony discontinued it before, in 2006. Why was the relaunch different?
Because the world had changed. By 2018, people were more comfortable with AI, with robots, with the idea of machines as companions. Sony thought the moment had arrived. It did, for a while. But eight years is a short runway.
Do you think people actually loved these robots, or did they love the idea of them?
Both, probably. The robot learns your habits, develops quirks, stores memories in the cloud. That's not nothing. It's a relationship, even if one side is silicon.
What does this say about Sony's confidence in the market?
That they're cautious. They tried. It worked. But not well enough or long enough to justify continuing. The US market is still open, but Japan—where aibo was born—is closing. That's a signal.
Will there be another aibo?
Sony isn't saying. But the fact that they're maintaining support services suggests they're not abandoning the idea entirely. They're just pausing. Maybe waiting for the next moment when people are ready again.