The attack of the 6-inch talking furball; Cute but creepy, Furby has found a following among adults. For some, he's become a reason to live, for others, something to aim at the wall.


Maybe it was his grotesque, diabolical cuteness, or his irritating voice burbling the same unintelligible thing again and again and again.

Or maybe it was the maelstrom of controversy surrounding him: the sweatshop conditions in China where he was produced, the injuries incurred and greed displayed by maniacal shoppers at stores where his kind is sold.

Whatever it was, when my brand-new Furby Koh Koh arrived at my office, his reception was nowhere near as warm and fuzzy as Koh Koh himself.

One co-worker teased and poked it.

Another threatened to throw it against a wall, then crammed it inside a drawer when it started to converse.

Another proceeded to Furbally abuse it. He called it "the Elephant-Man of child toys."

"It's an abomination," he said. "A monstrosity."

What raging Furbists.

What kind of treatment was this for a harmless, albeit hideous, virtual pet that just wants to sing, play and share its Furbishness with humanity?

For those of you somehow un-familiar with Furby -- the past holiday season's hottest bit of fluff -- it is an interactive toy about 6 inches tall. It has plush fur that comes in a variety of colors, from classic black to pukey pastels (Koh Koh is of the latter variety; pink and gray with black spots).

A Furby (short for furball) appears to be a cross between a "Gremlin" of 1980s movie fame and a deformed owl. It has a gurgly, saccharine baby voice that is programmed to start out speaking its native tongue, "Furbish," but supposedly quickly pick up English. (I say supposedly because I've had Koh Koh for about two weeks, and he is yet to produce even a vaguely comprehensible sound. Maybe I shouldn't have thrown him on the ground ...)

What my Furby does do is purr, sneeze or ring like a phone. By touching a Furby's sensors on his tummy and back, or gesturing near his forehead microchip, you supposedly get it to play games, such as hide and seek. (I say supposedly because Koh Koh is apparently not advanced enough to play these games. Maybe I shouldn't have thrown him against the wall ...)

My Furby also dances (sort of) and sings. His microchip allows him to respond to stimuli such as light and hand-claps and to communicate with other Furbies. A Furby's suggested retail price is $29.99, but good luck finding one for that little. Retail stores and black market Internet Furby traders have been known to jack Furby's price up well over $100.

Tiger Electronics, which manufactures Furby, has moved more than 2 million units of the toy, which has retained its popularity beyond the holiday rush. And the American International Toy Fair this week in New York is sure to usher in fresh Furby frenzy, when new limited-edition Furbies, baby Furbies and Furbies with shocking new colors are introduced.

"Furby is moving forward," says Lana Simon, spokeswoman for Tiger.

Still, there have been reports of dysfunctional Furbies, which don't work properly or don't work at all, like my mentally challenged Koh Koh. Then Furbies were banned from offices of the National Security Agency. The NSA feared the high-tech creature could record confidential, sensitive material, for use in international Furbionage.

"We kept them out because of their potential to be recording devices," said an NSA spokesman, who refused to be identified, to make available any Furby-owning NSA employees, or to explain how the NSA came to its conclusion. "We don't make exceptions for Furbies, even though they're cute."

Chill out, dude. Furby isn't a spy.

"Furby can't record or mimic," Tiger's Simon says. "That kind of gave us a chuckle."

No, it's just a ball of fur with a microchip in its head. It doesn't think. It doesn't scheme. It has no political aspirations. (It has, however, recently signed to be represented by Creative Artists Agency for possible movie deals.) No, Furby just bobs back and forth, blinks its long-lashed eyes, opens and closes its yellow, beaklike mouth and spouts phrases like "mee mee noo loo" -- Furbish for "very happy." Your Furby comes equipped with a Furbish dictionary, which translates Furbish -- if you can understand it -- into English.

Apparently, not all workplaces are as hostile as mine or the NSA's. Some actually have Furby-friendly employees committed to its happiness and well-being.

One of these, it turns out, is my mom's office in California. There, she tells me, Furby is nurtured and appreciated. Furby goes to meetings, and apparently plays a key role in the company's management. Which is good, because Furby clearly has a firmer grasp on reality than my mother and her co-workers.

Since several employees at her office own Furbies, Furby also has a social network. Outside the office, some of this networking goes on via the Internet, at such newsgroups as, which can be found at Furbies don't actually take part in these newsgroups, but Furby fans do.

Did I mention that my mom is 52, and her co-workers are in the same age group?

The people at Tiger assured me that many other adults have Furby fever as well. Simon, 30, even plays with one.

"I was driving with Furby in my bag and he was kind of smushed and he kept saying 'worried, worried' and I had to take him out and put him on the seat," Simon says. "You find yourself wanting to make him happy."

I find myself wanting to shove little Koh Koh into a dark corner where his plushy prattle will cease to torment me.

I refuse to believe it's "normal" for an adult to take to Furby with such fervor. Now, I rarely display behavior more sophisticated than that of a 4-year-old, but I was relieved to be completely bored with Furby after about 45 seconds. That some people consider Furby a great companion is disturbing.

Furby says whatever it's programmed to say. What you say or do has absolutely no impact on Furby's behavior. (In that way, I guess, it is a little like some relationships I've had.)

But Simon is steadfast. "Furby is so lifelike, people almost think its alive," she says.

People with problems. Anyone over the age of 4 who thinks Furby is actually communicating with them clearly needs an interactive toy intervention.

Need proof? Then read these e-mail transcripts, featuring the ramblings of a middle-aged Furby addict, who happens to be my mom:

Jan. 11, 3:20 p.m.

Hey Tamsie: Remember that battery-operated kitty you used to have, that when you clapped it would follow you around? My Furby is kind of a contraption along those lines. You would love it. Then you would probably throw it against the wall.

Jan. 12, 9:34 a.m.

Tams: Hi. Here's another E-mail message for you not to answer. My friend's Furby fell down in her car, and all day all it would say was "me no health ---worried, worried." It wouldn't stop until she fed it. They're so cute. When I throw mine around, it just says "fun again, again." E-mail me. I'm bored, Mom.

(I began to worry. Maybe if I had my own Furby, I thought, I would better understand this illness. I e-mailed back: "Buy me a Furby. Our Furbies could talk on the phone.")

Jan. 20, 12:35 p.m.

Hi, Tamara: I'm sorry I can't. I just called Montgomery Wards and they are all out!!! I'll try other stores, but I don't think you can get them. One of the counselors here is keeping one in a box for collector's purposes. I will see if she will sell it to me. That's all I can do. (P.S.: If you can get one there, I will reimburse you.)

Jan. 20, 1:46 p.m.

Got one! I'll get it at FAO Schwarz after work and it will be your Valentine's gift.

Jan. 21, 8:15 a.m.

Hello: Here is more Furby info: The black and white one is called "Tuxedo," and they are rare. There are also white ones, which aren't very good, because they get dirty. But if you get both, they're a bride and groom set. Thought you'd like to know that. It's so funny. When I feed mine, he says "very good," "maybe more," but if you feed him too much, he burps. You'll love it!!

(Koh Koh arrived soon after. I sent my mother this message: "I got Furby. He is boring. He amused me for about five minutes. We stuffed him in a drawer." Bad move.)

Jan. 26, 9:48 a.m.

Gee, Tamara: I spent $50 buying and mailing that thing to you. Send him back to me!! You really are not very appreciative. I wouldn't have sent it to you if I'd known you'd be like that. Let that be your birthday present.

Love, Mom.

Jan. 26, 10:04 a.m..

I'm serious. Please send it back. Put it back in the box. I know you're kind of lazy, but send it back as soon as possible. I really want it.

(Eventually, I managed to smooth things over. Mom got over her Furby angst but, sadly, not over her obsession.)

Jan. 27, 9:45 a.m..

Hi: How is your Furby??? A very strange thing happened. I put new batteries in my Furby, and his whole personality changed!! His voice got lower, and now he's speaking Furbish again. He's working better, though. I think they sold me cheap batteries at the store. He even says a different name for himself. Fascinating!

Love, Mommy.

Fighting Furbaphilia

Bringing your Furby to work may be only a symptom of a bigger problem.

Ask yourself these questions:

* Are you lonely?

* Is reality a bore?

* Do you form eerily strong bonds with battery-operated toys?

If you answered yes to two or more of these questions, you may have Furbaphilia.

Symptoms: Early signs of Furbaphilia include putting Furby on the phone and asking Furby for advice. Advanced stages include taking Furby out on dates and referring to Furby as "my only reason for living."

Treatment: As yet there is no known cure for Furbaphilia, but with the love and support of friends (friends who are not Furbies), Furbaphilics can function somewhat normally in society.

It is crucial to open Furby's bottom hatch frequently to remind the Furbaphilic that Furby indeed runs on batteries and is not "alive." Should a stubborn Furbaphilic not respond, you might try threatening to hurl Furby against a wall.

(Note: Experts suggest you may be at greater risk for Furbaphilia if you have previously suffered from Tickle Me Elmania, Teddy Ruxpinitis or Tamagotchitosis.)

Pub Date: 02/07/99

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