In the whirlwind of AI advancements, OpenAI's latest release, Sora 2, has ignited a frenzy that's equal parts excitement and unease. Launched just days ago on September 30, 2025, the new text-to-video model powers a sleek iOS app designed for quick, collaborative video creation. But access? That's where the chaos begins. The app is invite-only, with users scrambling for codes amid a booming black market on platforms like eBay, where they're fetching prices up to $200 a pop. Indeed, Reddit threads are overflowing with pleas and trades, turning what should be a simple waitlist into a digital gold rush.
Sam Altman, OpenAI's CEO, touted the tool in a blog post as a game-changer for making videos that feel eerily real—think synchronized audio, realistic physics, and clips up to 10 seconds long from mere text prompts. Yet, within 24 hours of rollout, the app flooded feeds with unsettling deepfakes, including ones of Altman himself shoplifting or spouting nonsense. One viral clip even showed a cartoonish Pikachu rampaging through a cityscape, blending Pokémon nostalgia with AI wizardry in ways that delight fans but horrify creators worried about intellectual property theft. Hollywood studios are already up in arms, forced into an opt-out scramble as branded characters like Pikachu pop up unbidden in user-generated content.
Moreover, the app's social features encourage sharing and remixing, positioning Sora 2 as a TikTok rival powered by AI. Early testers rave about its ease—upload a photo, describe a scene, and watch magic unfold. However, critics point to the risks: misleading videos spreading misinformation, copyright violations piling up, and an elite access model that favors those with connections. OpenAI claims safeguards like age-appropriate protections and watermarks, but the first wave of outputs suggests the guardrails are shaky at best.
Indeed, as invite codes circulate in secretive corners of the web, one can't help but wonder if this rush toward accessible AI creation will democratize art or just amplify the noise. What does it mean when anyone with a code can summon a Pikachu apocalypse—or worse?