It has never been easier to add something that looks like intelligence to a product. A chat box, a summarize button, a suggestion that appears in a sidebar. It has also never been easier to add something that adds nothing — noise wearing the shape of a feature.
The model is not the product. The model is a material, with real properties: it is sometimes wrong, it is not instantaneous, and its confidence does not reliably track its correctness. A feature built without accounting for all three isn't finished. It's a demo that shipped by accident.
Craft, here, means specific things. It means showing uncertainty instead of hiding it — a system that hedges honestly is more useful than one that guesses confidently and is sometimes catastrophically wrong. It means designing for the failure case first, not the happy path, because the failure case is where trust is actually won or lost. It means resisting the urge to put a chat interface on a problem that a well-designed button would solve in one click.
None of this is a caution against using the technology. Applied well, it's genuinely new capability — the kind that changes what a product can promise its users. The caution is against mistaking the capability for the finished thing. A block of bronze is not a sculpture. Intelligence, unshaped, is not a feature.
The studios and teams that will still matter in five years are not the ones who added AI first. They're the ones who kept asking what it was for, and refused to ship the answer until they knew.