This is American Historia's Aftershock, where I share with you a story that didn't make

it into the main episode.

I'm your host, Chalce Weber-Smith, and today we're talking about Furby.

Since we are all hella old, Furby's are now found most often on the smooth wooden shelves

of haunted antique stores.

Their eyes open or closed into eternity, battery lists, but nonetheless I assume, awakening

in the middle of the night to garble out a few demonic words.

From the alleged government experiment arcade game Polybius to the Bush-era rumors that

Saddam Hussein was crafting weapons of mass destruction out of PlayStation 2 consoles,

urban legends have always abounded about children's toys and games.

For kids who are having fun, there are always wild rumors or conspiracy theories to go along

with them.

But no toy has attracted quite as many urban legends and conspiracy theories, as that big

eye, thick eyelash, yellow-beaked robot gremlin known, of course, as Furby.

Most millennials either had a Furby or at least knew someone who did.

Likely throwing it out a window at some point or cooking it in a microwave, only to have

it reappear on the desk in your room.

Furby emerged as one of the first computerized robot toys.

Before the popular and endless supply of robot dogs I certainly had in the very beginning

of the 2000s, such as Hootsie, Icyby, and the I-dog, all deeply disappointing technology.

When Furby debuted in 1998, it seemed to be unprecedented in its level of artificial

intelligence, and people went absolutely nuts, with stores selling out all over the country.

...