There's a scene in the film, Artificial Intelligence, where Monica Swinton (played by Frances O'Conner) intentionally abandons her son David in the woods. That should disturb you, except David's a robot, a piece of tech that would seem disposable if not for one complicated fact: Monica loves David, and vice versa. Their special bond was created when she read a list of words to him, thereby triggering his undying affection and desire for her acceptance. Both are emotionally charged scenes in a tear-jerking and underappreciated movie.

As gamers, we haven't had this sort of bond with the polygonal characters we manipulate. The closest sense of attachment arose after playing Yoot Saito's Seaman on Dreamcast, a virtual pet simulator that allowed us to communicate with an odd-looking man fish using a microphone. Thanks to its ability to remember key pieces of information and draw from thousands of responses, Seaman was able to carry conversations and for us, become part of the family. Speaking to it was a daily ritual, much like talking with family and friends. We knew he wasn't real, but that didn't stop us from feeling upset when he died (most likely our fault).

In this case, an attachment was made between human and A.I., something the video game industry has mostly avoided until this past June, when Microsoft debuted its revolutionary new camera, Project Natal. Along with it came Milo, a virtual boy created by Fable designer, Peter Molyneux. In the demo, a woman interacts with Milo, holding a believable conversation, sharing items (at one point, she hands him a piece of paper that Natal scans and inserts into his world) and watches him jump off some rocks. He still looks like a video game character, but his voice and movements are eerily lifelike. It would appear that Molyneux's goal is to bridge the proverbial gap between human and computer by creating a digital child that behaves like a real one. Whether or not that's a good thing, however, remains to be seen.

This brings up Masahiro Mori's uncanny valley hypothesis, which states:

"that as a robot is made more humanlike in its appearance and motion, the emotional response from a human being to the robot will become increasingly positive and empathic, until a point is reached beyond which the response quickly becomes that of strong repulsion. However, as the appearance and motion continue to become less distinguishable from a human being, the emotional response becomes positive once more and approaches human-to-human empathy levels."-- Wikipedia

We experienced this with Seaman ten years ago, and with Milo on the way, it raises the question of whether traveling down this path is a smart idea. If Milo never dies, for example, what does that teach children, especially those who also wonder why Milo never ages (we also see this with Nintendogs on DS, a pet sim where none of the puppies get hurt or suffer from illness).

On another level, how will you react to Milo after establishing an emotional bond? If he comes on a disc, can you bring yourself to trade him for store credit at GameStop? "Sorry Milo, but we need Gears of War 3." Think about that, and imagine a store shelf littered with scores of castoff children, patiently waiting on their respective discs for someone (anyone, really) to give them a home. Suddenly, a place that sells used games suddenly becomes a virtual orphanage that'll only grow more bizarre as these children evolve into more advanced beings capable of having thoughts and building attachments to their owners.

On the positive side, that data (at least initially) will be on your hard drive. Another consumer, for instance, won't boot up Milo and see a confused child asking for you by name. The issue is whether or not you can leave him behind.

This problem becomes even more complex when the designer (or rather, when the A.I.) forces you to make a negative decision. Would you punish Milo? Berate him? Slap him, if given the option? The dynamic changes the moment you feel remorse for what you've done (forgetting to clean Seaman's tank comes to mind).

Milo, of course, could be a symptom to a much greater problem. He seems like innocent fun to us, but in the hands of a sex offender, takes on a new, more unsettling vibe. Obviously, we don't expect Lionhead to allow consumers to molest Milo. His existence just raises new possibilities for unsavory types to get their fix. If a creepy looking man purchases Milo for his own personal use, is that weird?

More importantly, could you bring yourself to kill Milo? Again, we don't see Molyneux allowing such a thing, but other developers will draw from advances in technology to create more lifelike enemies on virtual battlefields, or perhaps civilians minding their own business in a new Grand Theft Auto. We have no qualms running over old ladies because they still look fake. When those same old ladies look exactly like our grandmothers, it's another situation entirely.

Sony's Heavy Rain (available for PlayStation 3 in 2010) features characters that almost blur the line between human and A.I. Consider the below video, with an attractive woman in the bathroom. Watch how the narrator instructs her to not only adjust her breasts, but also rip her skirt.

Although she still looks fake, this sort of thing has tremendous potential in dating simulators, where nervous men could practice their lines on a female that helps improve their confidence, but let's face it, virtual people like her will soon populate video games that give us the option to perform immoral acts. That's when the real test begins, the moment where we find out just how sympathetic, caring and violent we are.