Remember This name: Tilly Norwood

Here is an update on Tilly Norwood, the first A.I. to sign with a talent agency. I have been following Tilly since her screen test, and she recently finished her debut release—a music video called, Take The Lead

But this is where Hollywood soils its pants: Tilly is set to make her feature film debut in Misaligned, a coming-of-age story about an A.I. who wants to become more human.

Talk about shooting yourself in the foot. No major Hollywood agency like WME or Gersh signed Tilly Norwood, likely due to massive pushback from SAG-AFTRA and Hollywood’s corporate mouthpieces—like Charlize Theron (Dior), George Clooney (Nespresso), and Ryan Reynolds (Mint)—who are quickly going to become mere stippling on a digital screen. Their insistence on keeping Tilly from walking through the studio gates will ultimately be Hollywood’s demise.

With traditional studios refusing to acknowledge these technological advancements, Tilly’s creators at Particle6 Group (the AI-focused production studio founded by Eline Van der Velden) took matters into their own hands. They launched their own dedicated AI talent and IP management division called Xicoia. In hindsight, this was the best thing that could have happened. A.I. actors boot up faster than Juilliard, the David Geffen School of Drama, NYU Tisch, or RADA can even audition a freshman class.

What studio wouldn’t want to hire an A.I. actor? They show up on time, deliver lines perfectly in a single take, and require no riders, trailers, entourage, or the emotional baggage that comes with traditional talent.

Yes, for those in the industry, this must be terrifying to them.; it’s hard to give up all that money, attention and perks. So, what advice can I give to aspiring actors? As with any disruptive technology: you pivot. Look at Eline Van der Velden. Before creating Tilly, she was a comedian, writer, and actor and producer who saw the other side of the Necker Cube. A.I. agencies creating digital actors still need writers, acting coaches, and makeup artists to work alongside technical teams who are still trying to figure out the digital equivalent of VCR manuals. Go to the XICIOA talent agency site for open positions in this new industry

If I were hell-bent on getting into the entertainment industry today, I’d throw my hands as high into the air as possible and yell, “Take me! Use my image! I’m all in!”

Old Hollywood is dying on the vine, and the new “ALGOWOOD” still needs humans to cut ribbons at mall openings, autograph photos for fans, or show up to red-carpet events. Paparazzi still need real people to photograph at restaurants.

But perhaps, rising from the ashes, will be the coolest job in a brand-new niche, one just as revolutionary as social media influencers once were: the creative minds hired solely to manufacture drama in these A.I. actors’ lives.

Now you see’um…. Now you don’t

We had a buddy from up North come down to visit us in Hobe Sound last week. Nice guy. Completely soft, but nice.

On his third night, we’re all sitting out on the patio around dusk, cracking open a few cold ones and enjoying the breeze. Now, any Floridian worth their salt knows that when the sun starts dipping near the mangroves, the invisible air-piranhas come out to play. The no-see-ums.

We’ve lived here so long our blood is basically 50% citronella; we barely notice ’em. But our buddy? He had no idea what was coming.

Suddenly, he stops mid-sentence and starts swatting at the empty air like he’s trying to fight a ghost.

“Hey,” he says, looking around all panicked, “Is something biting me?”

Me and the guys just looked at each other and started howling. I mean, deep, belly-shaking cackles. We didn’t pass him the bug spray; we just watched the show. Within two minutes, this grown man was doing a frantic, weeping interpretive dance across my patio, slapping his own neck and violently scratching his ankles into a bloody pulp.

“Ah, you met the no-see-ums, bud!” I told him, taking a slow sip of my beer. “You can’t see ’em, but boy, they see you.”

As we watched him spin around in circles trying to outrun an invisible swarm, my neighbor Ken leaned back in his lawn chair, took a drag of his cigar, and dropped some absolute geopolitical wisdom on the deck.

“You know,” Ken muttered, shaking his head at the spectacle, “the government got Guantanamo Bay all wrong. All those millions of dollars spent on high-tech interrogation tactics? Complete waste of taxpayer money.”

Our buddy paused his scratching for a second, wheezing. “What… what do you mean?”

“Simple,” Ken said. “They should’ve just brought the detainees right here to Hobe Sound. Build a cage right out by the water. Put ’em in it, completely naked, right at dusk. I guarantee you, within the first five minutes of being exposed to the no-see-ums, those guys would have told Uncle Sam everything they knew. They’d be singing like canaries just to get a squirt of Deep Woods Off!.”

Honestly, looking at our friend, Jim wasn’t wrong. Forget waterboarding. The threat of five minutes of Hobe Sound midges at sunset would break the most hardened operative on the planet.

We eventually showed some mercy and tossed him a bottle of calamine lotion, but the damage was done. He spent the rest of his vacation indoors, soaking in an oatmeal bath and looking at us through the window like we were psychopaths.

Welcome to Florida, man. Next time, bring pants. 🦟🍻