Art by S'djet (2024)
(7/9/2026)
(This is one of those occasional blogs where I write as myself, not Maverick Lobo. I need to explain the process and mindset I went through to arrive at my conclusion.)
It’s a massive understatement to say AI has come a long way. I don’t think anyone could have predicted the level it would reach within the last three years alone. Just ten years ago, PewDiePie was having nonsensical conversations with early Cleverbot and Eviebot models, and viral Twitter threads regularly showcased just how absurd and broken AI-generated content was.
DALL-E 1 generation (2020)
By the time the COVID-19 lockdowns hit in 2020, DALL-E became the center of attention. Users were generating imagery that ranged from strangely beautiful to nightmare-inducing. Naturally, questions began to arise: If AI becomes more advanced, what ramifications will this have for creative media? Early adopters attempted—and usually failed miserably—to replace human talent. The accepted conclusion at the time was comforting: AI just wasn’t there yet, and it couldn't replace a human.
But progress on a snow-covered mountain is a slippery slope; the avalanche was inevitable. Investors pumped millions into development, and the technology evolved rapidly. The question of "What if AI gets good enough?" is no longer a fantasy. It has arrived. It is our reality. And the answer has been both incredible and harrowing.
While I could go on about the macro-consequences of unchecked industry expansion, I want to focus on a more immediate question now that AI is good enough: Is the adoption of AI inevitable when those who don’t adopt it will be at an insurmountable disadvantage?
It goes without saying that the creative community (artists, writers, filmmakers, musicians) is largely anti-AI. While their reasons are deeply defined across the internet, they can generally be distilled into four core pillars:
Theft of Intellectual Property: AI models are typically trained on artists' work without their consent, compensation, or credit.
Environmental Cost: The massive computing resources required to maintain AI infrastructure are actively harming the planet, threatening to undo decades of ecological progress.
Corporate Greed: The current trajectory disproportionately benefits investors and executives looking for short-term gains rather than supporting the common creator.
Nefarious Application: Left unchecked, generative AI is frequently weaponized to cause real mental, physical, and reputational harm to individuals.
The resentment within the creative community has become so stark that any product mentioning AI is immediately shunned or viewed with deep skepticism. The community even coined a term for it: "AI Slop." It refers to using generative AI, calling it "creation," and distributing a product that lacks basic care, human effort, or artistic soul purely for clout or profit.
Yet, despite pushback that has finally reached political stages, corporations haven't stopped. Advanced AI models are actively being used in commercial ads and product packaging. New-age content creators are rising to popularity on YouTube and Instagram using these tools, and everyday citizens are incorporating AI into their workflows more than ever.
The hard truth is that no amount of pushback is stopping the needle. We have been put in the backseat of a runaway car, whether we like it or not.
I ask these questions on a deeply personal level. For my New Year’s Resolution, heavily inspired by the project Dispatch (2025), I decided to hunker down and learn 3D modeling and animation so I could build assets for my own indie projects.
For months, I lived and breathed the craft. I learned ZBrush, Marvelous Designer, Maya, Omniverse, and Blender. I bought course after course, read articles, watched videos, and practiced endlessly. Finally, I created my very first 3D model from scratch: a rockin’ dinosaur named Reed.
The Reality of Solo Production: It was a complete labor of love. I spent easily 20 hours on Reed from start to finish, stretching across weeks of configuring and tweaking. I was thrilled with the result, but it exposed a glaring bottleneck. For an indie creator, spending 10 to 30 hours on every single model creates a staggering, discouraging scope of work.
Then, the YouTube algorithm recommended a 3D animator and game developer named Stefan, who utilizes AI in his workflow to create high-quality assets rapidly. I enrolled in his e-course—which was cutting-edge at the time—and what I learned blew my mind. It also brought me to a harsh, terrifying realization: I cannot possibly keep up.
I love my Reed model, but it took weeks. Through Stefan's workflow, an AI helped generate a usable, quality model in less than an hour. You might expect the result to be low-quality or soulless, but it was the opposite; the AI created a cleaner model than I could have crafted from scratch. It can't do everything—AI retopology is still not where it needs to be for actual production—but it handles 95% of the heavy lifting.
After the initial awe wore off, the existential dread set in. The consequence of AI achieving a state of "good enough" is that those who abstain will be left at a severe disadvantage. This applies to individual creators, but it scales up to companies and even countries. (China, for instance, has already rolled out entire college degrees centered around AI).
It isn't cynicism; it's a simple calculus of human and institutional behavior:
[Global Competition] ➔ [Government Seeks Capital] ➔ [Corporations Adopt AI] ➔ [Colleges Alter Curriculums] ➔ [Workforce Integration]
Governments need thriving economies, and capital is power. If one global power gains a massive economic advantage via AI, others must follow suit to keep from falling behind the global market. This greed and competitive pressure trickles down.
Corporations adopt AI to outpace competitors, and universities alter their curriculums to match corporate demands. Suddenly, employees, new hires, and independent entrepreneurs are forced to incorporate AI into their daily workflows just to survive.
We are encroaching upon a point of no return where refusing to use AI will have devastating professional ramifications. It is the modern equivalent of refusing to learn how to use a calculator in a society that demands you solve complex math problems at lightning speed.
As the technology integrates into our software, the line between ethical and unethical use becomes razor-thin. We can all agree on the obvious red lines: using AI for malicious deepfakes or using it to mass-fire employees. But what about AI used as a minor tool within a larger creative process?
If there is a plug-in in Blender that generates a base mesh, is that different from an AI app doing it?
If I use AI to draft a rough audio idea, and then use my own musical skills to re-record a song based on that blueprint, is it still original music?
If I generate character concepts using AI imagery, but completely hand-draw the final artwork myself, is it still a human creation?
Where does the line start and stop when it comes to "slop" versus "art," and who gets to decide?
In my current life, there is no realistic way for me to abstain from AI. I work for Microsoft; I literally repair the physical equipment required to run it. I use it daily, and I can state with total honesty that it has significantly helped me organize my thoughts, brainstorm character concepts, and expand my capabilities as a creator.
However, I follow a strict personal code to maintain my humanity:
Never use AI to replace other human creators or take away their employment.
Never use AI to replace actual, genuine creation outside of tedious workflow tools.
Never use AI to deceive or lie to others about how a project was made.
At the end of the day, I am the one writing the final script and polishing the assets. I want to use AI for practical productivity, not to replace the soul of creation.
I say all of this knowing there will always be hard-liners standing firmly in the anti-AI corner. While I deeply understand and respect their position, that corner is shrinking by the day. I am neither strictly "pro" nor "anti" AI. The industry's current ecological footprint is sickening, and replacing human staff for short-term profits is incredibly short-sighted.
Art by S'djet (2025)
But this is a warning from the trenches: If you are a creator seeking employment or running an indie hustle and you refuse to touch these tools, you are going to be left behind by, what is now, a shrinking market.
You cannot compete with a 3D modeler who can produce ten models to your one. You cannot out-design someone who can draft thirty concept variations and refine them in the time it takes you to draw six. It’s not a finger-wag; it’s just the harrowing math of productivity.
Ultimately, the mass adoption of AI is inevitable. Personally, I will continue to use it ethically to open creative doors that used to be locked behind hundreds of hours of tedious labor. I am simultaneously blown away by the possibilities and terrified of what they mean for our future.
I will always be transparent about my process. I will continue to commission human artists because I believe AI-generated imagery is just data—not actual art. I never want to see a future where AI completely dominates spaces meant for human expression. AI creations deserve their own segregated spaces, independent of human craftsmanship.
I sincerely hope I am wrong. I don’t want talented people to become unhirable simply because they chose to protect their traditional craft. I hope there is enough pushback to keep AI locked in as a helpful utility and nothing more. But looking at the trajectory of corporate culture and global education, the Age of AI isn't coming—it's already here.