A new kind of reality show is taking over TikTok, but this one doesn’t have any real people. Instead, it stars animated fruit.
“Fruit Love Island,” an AI-generated parody of the popular dating show “Love Island,” has quickly gone viral, pulling in millions of views with its oddly human-like characters. The concept is simple but bizarre: animated fruits with names like Bananito and Strawberrina flirt, fight and “recouple” in a virtual villa. Episodes are short, dramatic and designed for the fast-paced world of TikTok.
Despite how absurd it sounds, the series has built a massive following in just weeks. But on The University of Alabama campus, student reactions are mixed.
For some, the show lands somewhere between funny and unsettling. Akari Nakajima, a junior majoring in English, said the videos feel almost too realistic.
“For me, it was kind of scary because they look very AI, but the way they speak is very human like,” Nakajima said.
Others are far less impressed. Haley Bozinovich, a sophomore majoring in geology, dismissed the trend and raised concerns about the environmental impact of AI.
“I’ve never watched it, but I do think it’s kind of stupid, considering AI is very harmful to the environment,” she said.
Sam Walsh, a sophomore majoring in history, had an even stronger reaction, arguing that AI has no place in creative fields like entertainment.
“I think AI should not be used in a creative space or for art,” Walsh said. “With data centers kind of destroying the land they’re on and increasing costs for basically everything, it’s just making things worse for no reason.”
Other students voiced the same concern. Thaila Cosyleon, a sophomore majoring in marketing, described the videos as “brain rot,” acknowledging that while they may be briefly entertaining, they lack real substance.
“I think this is just AI slop,” Cosyleon said. “There are animators who can do this, and this just feels unnecessary. It takes creativity away from people.”
Still, not everyone sees it so negatively. Some students admit the show is entertaining. Maddie Vick, a sophomore majoring in nursing, said she’s fully invested.
“I’m ashamed to admit I love it,” Vick said. “I’m up to date.”
That kind of reaction highlights part of the show’s appeal. Just like traditional reality TV, it’s dramatic and quickly made, but it’s cheap because there is no one to pay.
Others see it as a glimpse into the future of entertainment. Keillyn Muniz, a sophomore majoring in sports management, said the show surprised her.
“At first, I thought it would feel weird or too artificial, but it ended up being really funny and genuinely entertaining,” Muniz said. “It shows how AI can bring a fresh twist to entertainment while still keeping that unpredictability that makes shows like this so addictive.”
The conversation is largely shaped by a divide between students who view AI as harmful and those who see it as innovative.
“Fruit Love Island” might seem like a joke on the surface, but it raises bigger questions about what counts as creativity; who, or what, gets to produce entertainment; and whether audiences actually care how content is made as long as it’s engaging.
On a campus where students are already thinking about media and technology, the viral fruit villa has become more than just a TikTok trend — it’s a small but telling example of how AI is starting to reshape everyday entertainment.
“I hate that strawberry,” Vick said.
