The computer mouse hasn’t changed much in decades. Still mostly hard plastic, still shaped like a bar of soap, still asking your hand to grip something that gives absolutely nothing back. The rest of the desk setup has evolved, ergonomic chairs, standing desks, wrist rests, but the one device your hand touches for eight hours straight has remained stubbornly rigid and deeply uninteresting.

The PILLIGA mouse concept makes a fairly obvious argument for why that should change. Instead of hard plastic, the entire upper chassis is a squishy, flexible membrane packed with a viscous, translucent gel. It’s the same basic impulse that makes people reach for a stress ball mid-meeting, except it’s also the thing you need to get any work done.

Designer: Guillermo Gonzalez

The thinking behind it is straightforward enough. Deadline pressure builds, calls run long, and the urge to fidget becomes almost impossible to ignore. Rather than keeping a stress ball in the desk drawer as a separate ritual, the mouse folds that habit directly into the tool that’s already in your hand. You can squeeze, press, or knead the gel without ever lifting your hand off your workflow.

The dome shape isn’t just for show, either. It follows the natural arch of your palm rather than forcing your hand flat against a hard surface, and the gel underneath absorbs the kind of low-level muscular strain that builds up quietly over hours of clicking and scrolling. It’s the sort of ergonomic consideration that usually requires its own dedicated accessory, not just a different material.

The controls themselves are sensibly laid out. A flat circular interface sits embedded in the front of the mouse, cleanly split for left and right clicks, with a textured, rubberized scroll wheel running between them. A USB-C port at the front handles charging, keeping the wireless design intact without the inconvenience of a separate charging dock. The bottom carries the optical sensor and power switch.

What makes the PILLIGA mouse concept genuinely interesting is how far it extends color as a design element. The gel comes in several variants, from vivid green with gold flecks and a blue version scattered with purple glitter, to darker, more subdued options that look considerably more at home on a professional desk. Each colorway pairs with a matching base and click interface, making the whole thing feel deliberate.

That range matters. The more reserved colorways hint that this isn’t a novelty item for a niche corner of the internet; it works just as comfortably on a professional desk as it does on a creative’s workstation. The gel doesn’t make it look cheap. It makes it look like something designed by someone who gave serious thought to what a mouse should feel like.

Concepts like the PILLIGA are more useful as provocations than promises. Computer mouse design has been coasting on the same assumptions for decades, and the idea that your primary input device could also be physically satisfying to hold hasn’t come up often enough. The gel-filled body raises the question, and that’s honestly more than most peripheral design manages to do.

The post A Mouse You Can Squeeze Like a Stress Ball While You Work first appeared on Yanko Design.

We keep building AI to do more. More answers, more speed, more certainty. Designer Mehrnaz Amouei looked at that trajectory and asked a fundamentally different question: what if we built AI to be more present instead? The result is POCO, a soft robotic companion that might be one of the most quietly radical design concepts to emerge in recent years. It doesn’t talk over you, doesn’t flood you with information, and it doesn’t pretend to know things it doesn’t know. POCO sits with you. Literally.

At its core, POCO is a soft, tactile object that pairs with a smartphone, which serves as its computational brain and face. A soft textile body wraps around the device, transforming rigid, glass-and-metal technology into something that moves, breathes, and gestures in response to your presence. Together, they create something that sits somewhere between object, creature, and companion, and that deliberate ambiguity is very much intentional. You’re not quite sure what to call it, and that’s entirely the point.

Designer: Mehrnaz Amouei

Amouei developed POCO through research at the University of Illinois at Chicago, grounding the project in studies on loneliness and trust. Her findings indicated that people don’t actually want AI that projects certainty or control. They want availability and responsiveness. They want something that shows up without taking over. From those findings came the concept of “constructive interdependence,” a design philosophy where POCO’s limitations aren’t bugs to be patched but features embedded directly into the interaction model itself. The robot communicates what it can and cannot do through its behavior and physical states, which is a level of honesty you don’t often get from technology that typically overpromises and underdelivers.

I think that matters more than it might initially seem. The dominant conversation around AI right now is almost entirely about expansion: more capability, more integration, more autonomy. POCO pushes back on that without being preachy about it. It reframes the question of what good AI design actually looks like, and the answer it offers isn’t “smarter,” it’s “more trustworthy.” That is a genuinely different value system, and it feels overdue.

The sustainability dimension is also worth paying attention to. Rather than introducing new hardware and generating more electronic waste, POCO repurposes a device most people already own. That decision isn’t just a nice bonus; it’s built into the concept from the start, aligning with the UN’s Sustainable Development Goals around mental well-being and responsible consumption. In product design terms, that means the project was developed with a broader cultural and environmental context in mind, not just a user persona sitting in a lab.

Physically, POCO responds to touch, movement, and environmental cues. It adapts to a user’s preferences while maintaining a consistent identity, which is a surprisingly nuanced balance to strike in any product, let alone one sitting at the intersection of soft robotics and emotional design. Because interaction happens through touch rather than voice commands or screen taps, there’s an intentional slowing down embedded in the experience. You can’t rush a tactile exchange the same way you can type faster or speak louder. That shift from speed to presence feels like a meaningful counter-proposal to how most tech is currently designed. We’ve grown so accustomed to interfaces that demand our attention that a device asking only for our company reads almost as radical.

POCO has already earned an Honorable Mention from the International Design Awards and drawn coverage from major design publications. Whether it ever moves into consumer production remains an open question. But as a design statement, it’s doing exactly what the best concept work should: prompting us to reconsider what we actually want from the technology we live with, and whether expanding capability was ever really the right goal. Maybe the most interesting AI isn’t the one that knows the most. Maybe it’s the one that knows when to just stay close.

The post Forget Smarter AI, This Robot Thinks Presence Is the Point first appeared on Yanko Design.