Harvard Business Review Online | Don't Just Do Something, Stand There!

 

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Don't Just Do Something, Stand 

There!

 

 

Sony’s $1,500 pet robot is virtually useless—which explains 

why it’s such a big hit. 

 

 

by Youngme Moon 

 

Youngme Moon is an associate professor of marketing at Harvard Business School in Boston.  

 

Sony managers had a problem. Racing to beat competitors to market, the electronics giant had spent tens of 

millions of dollars developing its first household robot. But building a personal robot that could do anything 

useful proved daunting, and Sony’s prototypes were buggy and unpredictable. How could the company establish 

a foothold in this nascent market without losing its shirt—or worse, becoming a laughingstock? 

AIBO’s lack of obedience was an idiosyncratic 

display of “attitude.” 

The answer, it turned out, was not to obsess about perfecting the technology. Early on, company managers 

recognized that consumers would immediately categorize, or “frame,” any product that reminded them of a 

Hollywood movie robot as, well, a robot. If it looked like C-3PO, consumers would expect it to act like C-3PO. 

And they would be sorely disappointed if it didn’t measure up. So Sony made a conscious decision to manipulate 

the framing of its product and turn the robot’s shortcomings into attributes. Rather than develop a household 

helper that would fall disastrously short of expectations, Sony realized it could create an entertaining and lovable 

pet that no one would expect to be useful. “We had lots of arguments about whether AIBO should do something 

or not,” one Sony manager told me. “But in the end, we all agreed: AIBO loves you, you love AIBO, and that’s 

it.” 

Accordingly, the first-generation AIBO didn’t do much, and what little functionality it had was erratic. While the 

doglike AIBO could negotiate obstacles and respond to some commands, for example, it didn’t always do what it 

was told. But Sony cleverly marketed the creature as an entertainment robot with a personality of its own. 

According to the company, AIBO’s lack of obedience was an idiosyncratic display of “attitude.” The reality was 

that AIBO’s voice recognition was unreliable, so sometimes the product simply didn’t work. 

Framing AIBO as a pet enabled Sony to get the biggest bang out of minimal functionality. The company was able 

to successfully introduce robotic technology into people’s homes and position itself as the category leader for the 

future. In the process, Sony created public excitement about household robots and generated internal 

momentum to drive the product’s development. Because customers were forgiving of AIBO’s quirks, the 

company had tremendous leeway to tinker with its technology. Categorizing the robot as a pet also helped Sony 

attract lead consumers who were more demographically and psychographically diverse—ranging from the elderly 

to very young children—than typical technology early adopters. And, by putting its imperfect technology out into 

the marketplace, Sony had the opportunity to gather invaluable consumer feedback to help guide continued 

development. 

Take Baby Steps 

Sony has sold more than 130,000 AIBOs since the product launched in 1999. Last September, Sony released its 

third-generation AIBO, and the company is now prototyping a little humanoid that can walk and talk, recognize 

 

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Harvard Business Review Online | Don't Just Do Something, Stand There!

voices and faces, and stream video from its camera to your PC. The QRIO (pronounced “curio”) looks and acts 

more like a Hollywood robot than AIBO ever did. But once again, Sony is carefully managing the new robot’s 

framing to ensure that when QRIO is released, consumers won’t expect much utility. Highly mobile and just two 

feet tall, QRIO suggests, if anything, a playful child. And, like its canine predecessor, QRIO does little that’s 

really useful. As the promotional text on Sony’s Web site explains, “QRIO’s dreams are limitless. But one is 

clear: to make your life fun and happy.” 

Contrast Sony’s robot development strategy with Honda’s. Both companies share the same long-term vision: to 

develop practical household robots. But Honda has nothing marketable to show for the 15 years and $100 

million it has spent perfecting its prototype, ASIMO, an android that’s clearly designed—and framed—to imply 

usefulness. At twice QRIO’s size, the anthropomorphic ASIMO conspicuously evokes the Hollywood ideal, and 

Honda touts its “unprecedented humanlike abilities.” But ASIMO is not for sale. The robot does little more than 

walk, and even the simplest household tasks are beyond its capabilities. Nonetheless, Honda is aggressively 

positioning itself as a player. The company has run television spots featuring ASIMO, and its print ads in 

magazines promise that “one day, ASIMO could be quite useful in some very important tasks, like assisting the 

elderly and even helping with household chores.” No wonder Honda has no immediate plans to market ASIMO. 

By publicly committing itself to delivering a truly useful robot, the company has created consumer expectations 

that—for now, at least—will be hard to meet. 

The strategy boils down to knowing the 

difference between what the product is and 

what consumers expect it to be.

Reframe the Frame 

AIBO’s success shows the pivotal role of framing in marketing discontinuous innovations for consumers. If 

managers want mainstream customers to embrace a new technology, they need to establish the most effective 

frame early in the development process and commit to it. The strategy boils down to knowing the difference 

between what the product is and what consumers expect it to be. If customers think your robot is a pet, all the 

better for them—and for you—while you perfect the technology. 

 

Reprint Number F0403A

 

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