Open the PlayStation Store and the tile does the talking. A stylized model on a bed. Airbrushed lighting. Anatomy that buckles under a second look. The listing flags “Partial Nudity” and “Sexual Themes,” and the price shows $14.99. It reads like a quick prompt session dressed up as a console release. The star score in the capture is 2.20 from 208 reviews, which tells you how buyers felt after clicking.

Sony now lets verified owners write full reviews on the web store. You can only review if you own the product or added it to your library, and the write-up length caps at 4,000 characters. This rolled out publicly on October 9, 2025 .

The audience context matters. The ESA’s 2025 snapshot pegs the average U.S. player at 36 and shows that under-18s are still a meaningful slice of the player base, about 20%. Adults and kids scroll the same carousels in living rooms where one suggestive thumbnail can nudge a purchase.

Sony takes 30% while kids see sexualized AI-slop, OF Model Simulator hits $200k - 1

See that leg? Coming out of weird place. (OF Model Simulator)

What the 208 reviews suggest about revenue

Exact unit sales are not public, so the clean way to talk about money is to be explicit about the method and the caveats.

Analysts often estimate downloads from review counts using ranges tested on PC storefronts. On Steam, a common baseline is about 30 sales per review, and broader work finds ratios that imply 1% to 3% of buyers leave a review. These are not PlayStation-specific ratios, but they are the best published heuristics until Sony shares its own telemetry .

Using your conservative review-rate band on 208 PlayStation Store reviews:

  • 1.5% review rate (more engaged): about 13,900 downloads. Gross 13,900 × $14.99 = $208,361. Sony’s platform cut at 30% ≈ $62,508. Estimated developer share ≈ $145,853.
  • 1.0% review rate (mid): about 20,800 downloads. Gross $311,792. Sony cut ≈ $93,538. Estimated developer share ≈ $218,254.
  • 0.5% review rate (less engaged): about 41,600 downloads. Gross $623,584. Sony cut ≈ $187,075. Estimated developer share ≈ $436,509.

Why include Sony’s cut. On console digital stores the standard revenue share is 30% to the platform holder, a figure referenced in litigation and industry reporting about the PlayStation Store and console marketplaces.

A bare-minimum gut check also helps. If you treated 208 reviewers as the only purchasers, and every reviewer paid $14.99, you land at $3,117.92 gross. That is not a realistic floor because many buyers never review. It does show how even a sliver of attention turns into real money when the tile is engineered to stop a scroll.

None of this produces one “true” number. PS Plus entitlements can let non-purchasers leave reviews, which inflates counts for some titles, while any external tracking undercounts owners. The truth usually sits between strict verification and the review-ratio model. The range is the story. Even with a two-star reception, a sexualized AI tile can turn a few days on “New” into a six-figure haul.

Sony takes 30% of everything, probably why they allow adult AI Slop games.

“OF Model Simulator” is not remarkable as a game. It is remarkable as a tactic. The AI-slop cover leans on sexual cues. The store rating is ugly. The estimate range shows how attention still turns into money, and Sony likely earned a healthy cut along the way. Parents saw the tile. Kids saw the fantasy. That is the problem.

If PlayStation wants families to trust the store, it has to treat the first page like a promise. Move tiles like this off the marquee. Make the rules visible. Protect buyers. The art is already doing its job. It is time for the store to do its own.

This week, fans of Japanese animation witnessed an unprecedented collaboration, not for a film or TV debut, but for a cause that affects artists at their core.

Twenty-six of Japan’s most respected voice performers, including Koichi Yamadera, Romi Park, and Ryusei Nakao, have joined forces to release a public video under the campaign title No More Unauthorized Generative AI. Their message is simple but urgent: stop using performers’ voices without their consent.

The video, posted to the group’s official YouTube channel, begins with Nakao, known globally for his role as Frieza in Dragon Ball, sharing his own experience.

“Someone was selling my voice without permission. I was shocked. Our voices are our livelihoods. They are our lives,” he says in poignant reflection. As he finishes, the assembled actors together declare, “No more unauthorized generative AI!”

Their call resonates across industries struggling to understand the ethical implications of artificial intelligence. For these performers, synthetic voice replication is not just an artistic concern; it is a deeply personal issue tied to identity, livelihood, and creative authenticity.

Following the video’s release, a detailed press statement expanded on their concerns. It noted that voice data and clips had been uploaded and sold online without permission, even appearing in readings and songs that the performers never recorded.

“Our voices are our lives,” the statement emphasizes, contrasting enthusiasm for technology’s progress with fears of cultural disregard.

The purpose of this movement is not to vilify technology but to encourage thoughtful dialogue. The campaign stresses peaceful discourse and expert involvement to create ethical cultural norms for how AI interacts with creative industries.

“We hope to protect the fertile soil in which good works can be created for the next ten, the next twenty years,” the group’s statement reads, a plea for sustainability over exploitation.

The Faces and Voices Leading the Movement

The list of participants reads like a hall of fame for Japanese anime voice acting.

Among them are Koichi Yamadera (Cowboy Bebop’s Spike Spiegel), Romi Park (Fullmetal Alchemist’s Edward Elric), Ryusei Nakao (Dragon Ball’s Frieza), and an array of veterans whose voices helped shape the identity of modern Japanese entertainment. Their shared reputation gives the campaign considerable emotional weight and cultural impact.

Other members include Michihiro Ikemizu, Yoji Ueda, Yuko Kaida, Yuki Kaji, Mika Kanai, Bin Shimada, and Hiroki Touchi. Each artist brings decades of experience, recognition, and personal connection to fans who have grown up hearing their voices.

Together, they represent nearly the full span of anime history, from 1980s classics to current global blockbusters.

Their unified stance sends a powerful message: the artistic essence behind voice acting deserves the same respect as any other human creative medium. This movement is not simply about protecting legal rights but about affirming the emotional integrity of art that depends on a performer’s humanity.

For decades, voice performers have existed somewhat behind the scenes, their work celebrated yet often unrecognized. In recent years, advancements in AI-generated sound have begun to blur the lines between authentic voice artistry and algorithmic mimicry.

Anime Icons  - 2

Anime Icons (Credit: NBC)

Companies can now recreate voices with uncanny precision, raising vital questions about consent, compensation, and creative control.

While some industry leaders in Japan, including major agency Aoni Production, have cautiously embraced AI collaborations for limited use, the No More Unauthorized Generative AI initiative focuses on the darker side of automation: exploitation without permission or payment.

Technology Meets Ethics: The Industry Response

The timing of the campaign is notable. Only weeks before, Aoni Production confirmed a partnership with AI company CoeFont to produce machine versions of certain voices for “non-acting” projects.

Among those voices is Masako Nozawa, the iconic performer behind Goku from Dragon Ball. The partnership has been described as controlled and authorized, emphasizing consent and creative boundaries.

Even with those reassurances, unease lingers. Many artists fear that once companies begin digitizing voices, the door opens for misuse by third parties or unauthorized clones. And whereas major names might secure contractual protection, smaller artists often lack such safeguards, leaving their livelihood vulnerable to replication.

The No More Unauthorized Generative AI group’s statement clearly distinguishes authorized innovation from ethical violations.

Their argument isn’t against progress but rather the lack of responsibility in implementing it. They stress the importance of mutual respect, transparency, and fair compensation whenever AI utilizes a performer’s likeness or recordings.

The conversation also highlights cultural values deeply rooted in Japan’s creative community. Respect for craftsmanship has long underscored anime production, the belief that each artist’s touch contributes something irreplaceable. When that touch becomes data, artists fear losing not only income but identity.

Some industry professionals are echoing these concerns globally. Western voice actors have voiced similar frustration after finding digital replicas of their performances used in fan projects or unauthorized AI training models.

What differentiates Japan’s campaign is its unified front: more than two dozen top artists publicly speaking as one collective.

Why This Moment Matters

This movement represents a turning point for creative ethics in digital entertainment. As generative AI becomes more advanced, the question of artistic consent grows increasingly complex. For voice actors, whose work exists solely through sound, the threat of being replaced by software feels deeply personal.

Koichi Yamadera, known for his iconic versatility across roles from Spike Spiegel to Donald Duck’s Japanese dub, symbolizes why this issue matters.

His instantly recognizable voice carries the emotional DNA of multiple generations of characters and audiences. Losing control over that voice could mean losing ownership of an entire lifetime of artistry.

Similarly, Romi Park’s passionate portrayal of Edward Elric stands as a reminder of how emotional authenticity differentiates human actors from algorithmic reproductions.

The same applies to young voices like Yuki Kaji, who has built international admiration through roles in Attack on Titan and My Hero Academia. Each represents a creative history that cannot simply be “recreated” through data synthesizers.

The initiative’s tone, a mix of concern, hope, and cooperation reveals its deeper message. The group is not demanding bans or punishment but rather proposing the creation of cultural norms.

Their statement calls for dialogue with both experts and technologists, envisioning a future where technology respects human contribution instead of erasing it.

The campaign also demonstrates that artists, even those operating behind animated characters, possess the collective power to influence an entire global discussion. By gathering such a high-profile roster, No More Unauthorized Generative AI turns personal loss into public awareness.

A Path Toward Cultural Responsibility

Artificial intelligence has introduced new possibilities for art and communication, but this initiative reminds us that innovation must coexist with consent.

If properly guided, AI can amplify creativity, helping actors preserve aging voices or extending access to art across languages. Without regulation, however, it risks exploitation and emotional harm.

By elevating this issue, Yamadera, Park, Nakao, and their peers have championed a necessary intersection between technology and ethics. They demonstrate that progress includes listening to those most affected by its consequences.

The No More Unauthorized Generative AI movement now plans to release individual messages from each performer, sharing personal experiences and deeper reflections. Their goal is not confrontation but education, inviting thoughtful collaboration across industries to ensure integrity remains at the core of artistic advancement.

Through empathy, awareness, and honesty, Japan’s most beloved voices are proving that humanity must stay central even as machines learn to imitate it. Their message transcends languages and fandoms: respect the creators, respect the voices, and respect the soul behind every sound.

And as millions of fans echo their rallying cry across online platforms, one truth stands timeless these voices will always be human, and they deserve to be treated that way.