Daily Mail reporter William Hunter created an AI clone of himself through technology company StoryFile to test whether relatives would accept a digital replacement after his death, but his family and friends overwhelmingly rejected the chatbot.
Hunter ultimately requested that Los Angeles-based StoryFile permanently delete his interactive digital replica after family members called the avatar creepy, unnatural, and spooky.
The creation process required a selection of photographs, one minute of voice recordings, and a detailed questionnaire. StoryFile chief technology officer Dr Veronica Jones provided Hunter with roughly 60 questions covering early childhood memories, personal habits, and messages for future generations.
The questionnaire included personal prompts such as asking Hunter about his first real heartbreak and what it revealed about his needs in relationships. Because an AI clone possesses no information beyond what it is given, StoryFile typically gathers user databases over multiple days of exhaustive interviews to build a complete life story.
Dr Jones originally developed similar technology in 2012 to create digital replicas of Holocaust survivors for museums while working with Steven Spielberg's USC Shoah Foundation. "We interviewed the first survivor in 2012," Dr Jones recalled. "We interviewed him for seven days on his entire life story, so if someone asked a question, it would find the best video and play it back."
Following museum displays, members of the public began asking whether their own relatives could be immortalized as digital clones. StoryFile previously used its technology to allow individuals, such as Marina Smith MBE, to speak at their own funerals.
Dr Jones stated that StoryFile originally set out to be an education company rather than a grieftech provider. However, the firm now receives calls nearly every week from people asking to recreate recently deceased family members. She noted that the most frequent customers are parents in their 30s to 50s who want their children to be able to meet deceased grandparents in the future.
Setting up a basic replica with StoryFile is free, with paid subscription plans starting at $19 (£14) per month or $179 (£132) per year depending on interaction time. The company also offers professional interview and media curation services with costs similar to hiring a personal biographer.
The broader grieftech sector has grown into an estimated $126-billion (£93-billion) industry. The market includes various services such as 2wai, an application that allows users to create digital avatars of deceased loved ones.
How Artificial Intelligence Clones Operate
AI clones function by processing photos, videos, voice recordings, and biographical interviews to replicate a person's appearance and speech. The technology operates using either replay or generative systems.
Replay clones search through pre-recorded video and audio archives to play appropriate clips in response to questions. Generative clones utilize large language models, similar to OpenAI's ChatGPT, to construct new answers and fill gaps in their database when specific information is missing.
Dr Tomasz Hollanek, a grieftech expert at the University of Cambridge's Leverhulme Centre for the Future of Intelligence, told the Daily Mail that AI clones can serve as a positive medium for shaping legacy. He explained that interactive technology can enhance personal agency to share life stories and preserve important historical testimonies for future generations.
However, Dr Hollanek warned that what one family member finds comforting, another may find distressing. He advised anyone creating an AI clone to inform their family of their explicit wishes so relatives are not left guessing how to handle the digital legacy.
When Hunter tested his own clone, he described the interaction as deeply uncanny and similar to looking into a fun-house mirror. The chatbot provided answers that were either inaccurate or located in the uncanny valley, while repeatedly fixating on minor details from his questionnaire.
For instance, after Hunter noted in his questionnaire that he uses a special whistle to call his cat, the AI clone began repeatedly referring to itself as a "part-time cat-whistler."
Family Reactions and System Errors
Hunter shared the AI clone in a family group chat to allow his parents, siblings, partner, and friends to test the technology. His family and friends reacted with widespread discomfort.
Hunter's mother called the clone creepy, criticizing its jerky movements and unnatural speech. "It didn't speak like you and it didn't have the same intonation," she said, adding that using such technology to connect with a deceased parent would feel quite spooky.
Hunter's partner described the clone as unnatural, noting that its sense of humor was clearly AI-generated. Close friends described the experience as the trippiest thing they had seen in a long time, saying the avatar spoke in a deadpan tone like it had been lobotomised.
Due to information gaps in Hunter's profile, the generative model frequently hallucinated fictitious stories about his past. The chatbot falsely claimed that Hunter obtained alien books from a mobile library as a child and attempted to construct a "UFO detection kit." Although Hunter enjoyed books about aliens as a child, the mobile library and detection kit were fabricated by the AI.
The clone also claimed Hunter's cat disliked his sister because she carried plates of raw fish, and asserted that Hunter could not get drunk because he would feel it in his knees. Hunter's father remarked that while such fabrications were amusing during a test, they would be quite unsettling for grieving relatives.
Ethical Concerns and Digital Hauntings
The tendency of generative dead-bots to make up information underscores ethical concerns regarding control and commercialization. Pascalle Paumen, a grieftech researcher at the University of Utrecht, expressed concern over turning the dead into a business opportunity.
Paumen questioned whether tech companies in Silicon Valley should decide how people grieve or treat death as a limitation to overcome. She warned that some developers appear focused on eradicating grief, treating a fundamental human emotion as an inherent flaw. Other researchers warned that persistent digital replicas could interfere with bereavement and prevent survivors from moving on.
A study by ethicists at the University of Cambridge's Leverhulme Centre for the Future of Intelligence identified three major risks associated with the digital afterlife industry. First, bots could be used surreptitiously to advertise products, such as suggesting food delivery orders in the voice of a deceased relative. Second, replicas could distress children by insisting a dead parent is still present. Third, bots could spam surviving family and friends with updates and promotional reminders.
Dr Hollanek warned that unwanted digital hauntings from accurate AI recreations could cause severe distress, noting that the psychological impact on grieving individuals could be devastating.
To establish boundaries, StoryFile's parent company, Authentic Interactions, introduced the Digital Likeness Directive. The contractual framework allows users to define opt-in controls, generation types, target audiences, commercial limits, source material, and topic guardrails. If a replica breaches these terms, individuals or next of kin can submit a takedown request to remove the AI within 14 days.
Dr Jones admitted that broader regulation of grieftech remains a Wild West, with large tech companies often deploying tools without prior consent and apologizing later. However, she emphasized that digital clones do not transfer consciousness or replace human relationships. Dr Jones has interviewed most of her own relatives and plans to create a clone of herself for her nephews.
Hunter concluded that neither he nor existing technology is ready for a digital memorial, choosing to delete his clone while leaving open the possibility that improved systems could offer a meaningful legacy in the future.
