Latest news with #furries
Yahoo
7 days ago
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
They solved a horrific crime in their community. Don't mind the colorful fur suit.
The director of "The Furry Detectives" sheds light on the heroic whistleblowers in a fandom full of outsiders. Americans love true crime shows. More than half of U.S. adults say they are hooked on the genre, according to a June 2024 YouGov poll. (I should know, I'm one of those fans.) But The Furry Detectives: Unmasking a Monster was the first true crime docuseries I've seen to feature its subjects dressed in colorful anthropomorphic fur suits peeling back the layers on a horrific crime. It follows furries, or members of a community of fans who dress as animals with human characteristics, as they investigate a cache of information called the 'Furry Zoosadist Leaks.' The investigation began in 2018 and revealed a sinister criminal conspiracy of animal abuse within the animal-loving furry community. The docuseries explores how furries themselves led a citizen investigation that led to real-life arrests. To see Patch O'Furr, a longtime furry journalist for Dogpatch Press, speaking on camera with measured calm on his face in plain clothes as he recounts the horrors of the case, is a fascinating juxtaposition with other shots of him throughout the series in which he wears the blue-and-white fuzzy paws of his fur suit. It's not something we see every day, but it was a bold choice that put on display his love for the community despite what a few rotten apples had done. In the opening scene of the docuseries, O'Furr says, 'I never tried to be a hero, it's just … who else is gonna do the job?' He is who he is, both behind the keyboard and in front of a global stage. Letting O'Furr — and the other furries who appear onscreen, like Connor Goodwolf and Naia Okami — dress in both their street clothes and in their fur suits was an important element to Theo Love, who directed the four-part docuseries. It premiered in June at the Tribeca Film Festival and is now airing new episodes on Thursdays on Sundance Now and AMC+. Love tells Yahoo he wanted his subjects to be comfortable, especially given how furries sometimes end up at the 'wrong end of the joke.' 'And you are giving me a huge gift in telling me your story,' he says of the furries. 'So my job is to tell your story the way it exists in your mind.' The choice to include some furries in their fur suits on camera came from the playfulness that's so core to their existence. 'In some ways, we needed some sugar to help the medicine go down,' Love explains. The goal isn't to make fun of anyone, it's to allow them to show their true selves. A different kind of crime solver Love now holds furries in high regard, but he didn't know much about the fandom when he was tapped to direct the docuseries. He just found it refreshing to tell a true crime story from a new angle. The genre gets 'tired' when the 'good guys are always cops solving crimes,' he says. 'The heroes of our story are furries, a group of people [who] are just not very well understood. A lot of times, they're judged. And so to celebrate furries doing something really incredible, it was a privilege. … In this situation, they're saving man's best friend — our ultimate furry buddies, dogs,' Love says. It took a lot of convincing to get people to go on camera for the documentary. Zoosadism is a heinous crime — not something people like thinking about or being associated with, even if they're just recounting the objective facts of a case. Even the people who helped solve the case felt backlash within the community and were accused of making the already ridiculed fandom face even more bad press. 'It's very much like hidden abuse in a church community where people want to pray it away and act like it's old or offensive to talk about,' O'Furr tells Yahoo. His reporting on Dogpatch Press is the basis for much of what's covered in the docuseries. 'Either this gets told, or it gets brushed under [the rug] and guilty people continue using your spaces,' O'Furr writes in a post on Dogpatch Press, explaining his involvement in the docuseries. 'Then it gets worse, and next time, outsiders will tell the story for you with even less agency in how you are seen.' Since furries are so often ridiculed for their interest in costumes and developing anthropomorphic 'fursonas' that they role-play with, which is sometimes but not always sexual, it can be hard for them to be taken seriously. They don't dress in fur suits, often expensive, cumbersome and sweat-inducing, for attention. They do it because it makes them feel authentically like themselves and helps them find community. Ridicule leads some to feel like they've been pushed into the margins of society, where bad behavior can fester and disgruntled individuals can become radicalized. Concerns that multiple members of the fandom had ties to Nazism made headlines in 2017 and have led to the cancellation of at least one convention. For furries who genuinely love animals and role-playing as them, this association is horrific on a moral level, but has also tainted their perception and made them wary of what outsiders might think. 'Furvengers,' assemble A strong contingent of furries wasn't fond of the existence of this docuseries — or even the original blowing of the whistle about the Zoosadism Leaks in 2018 — for fear of how the community at large would be portrayed. But it's a uniquely furry story about the triumph of a fandom over the people using the joyful fandom to conceal their illegal acts. Back then, law enforcement tried and failed to uncover the culprits behind the crime for years, so furry vigilantes known as the Furvengers took matters into their own hands. They used their remarkable tech savvy to pore over chat logs on Telegram, an encrypted messaging app, which was the main channel used in the Zoosadism Leaks, leading to the arrest of a furry involved in animal abuse, who then led them to the suspected ringleader, who was arrested as well. The investigation involved combing through disturbing chat logs and screening traumatizing video footage of animal abuse, but the Furvengers maintained in the docuseries that protecting animals made it all worth it. Love says that the story is, at its heart, about ordinary people who went to extraordinary lengths for justice, regardless of what ridicule they might receive inside or outside of the fandom. 'If you've ever looked at a furry and thought, 'These people are weirdos and something to laugh at,' you're going to watch the series and be pretty surprised at how heroic they really are,' he says.
Yahoo
23-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
They solved a horrific crime in their community. Don't mind the colorful fur suit.
The director of "The Furry Detectives" sheds light on the heroic whistleblowers in a fandom full of outsiders. Americans love true crime shows. More than half of U.S. adults say they are hooked on the genre, according to a June 2024 YouGov poll. (I should know, I'm one of those fans.) But The Furry Detectives: Unmasking a Monster was the first true crime docuseries I've seen to feature its subjects dressed in colorful anthropomorphic fur suits peeling back the layers on a horrific crime. It follows furries, or members of a community of fans who dress as animals with human characteristics, as they investigate a cache of information called the 'Furry Zoosadist Leaks.' The investigation began in 2018 and revealed a sinister criminal conspiracy of animal abuse within the animal-loving furry community. The docuseries explores how furries themselves led a citizen investigation that led to real-life arrests. To see Patch O'Furr, a longtime furry journalist for Dogpatch Press, speaking on camera with measured calm on his face in plain clothes as he recounts the horrors of the case, is a fascinating juxtaposition with other shots of him throughout the series in which he wears the blue-and-white fuzzy paws of his fur suit. It's not something we see every day, but it was a bold choice that put on display his love for the community despite what a few rotten apples had done. In the opening scene of the docuseries, O'Furr says, 'I never tried to be a hero, it's just … who else is gonna do the job?' He is who he is, both behind the keyboard and in front of a global stage. Letting O'Furr — and the other furries who appear onscreen, like Connor Goodwolf and Naia Okami — dress in both their street clothes and in their fur suits was an important element to Theo Love, who directed the four-part docuseries. It premiered in June at the Tribeca Film Festival and is now airing new episodes on Thursdays on Sundance Now and AMC+. Love tells Yahoo he wanted his subjects to be comfortable, especially given how furries sometimes end up at the 'wrong end of the joke.' 'And you are giving me a huge gift in telling me your story,' he says of the furries. 'So my job is to tell your story the way it exists in your mind.' The choice to include some furries in their fur suits on camera came from the playfulness that's so core to their existence. 'In some ways, we needed some sugar to help the medicine go down,' Love explains. The goal isn't to make fun of anyone, it's to allow them to show their true selves. A different kind of crime solver Love now holds furries in high regard, but he didn't know much about the fandom when he was tapped to direct the docuseries. He just found it refreshing to tell a true crime story from a new angle. The genre gets 'tired' when the 'good guys are always cops solving crimes,' he says. 'The heroes of our story are furries, a group of people [who] are just not very well understood. A lot of times, they're judged. And so to celebrate furries doing something really incredible, it was a privilege. … In this situation, they're saving man's best friend — our ultimate furry buddies, dogs,' Love says. It took a lot of convincing to get people to go on camera for the documentary. Zoosadism is a heinous crime — not something people like thinking about or being associated with, even if they're just recounting the objective facts of a case. Even the people who helped solve the case felt backlash within the community and were accused of making the already ridiculed fandom face even more bad press. 'It's very much like hidden abuse in a church community where people want to pray it away and act like it's old or offensive to talk about,' O'Furr tells Yahoo. His reporting on Dogpatch Press is the basis for much of what's covered in the docuseries. 'Either this gets told, or it gets brushed under [the rug] and guilty people continue using your spaces,' O'Furr writes in a post on Dogpatch Press, explaining his involvement in the docuseries. 'Then it gets worse, and next time, outsiders will tell the story for you with even less agency in how you are seen.' Since furries are so often ridiculed for their interest in costumes and developing anthropomorphic 'fursonas' that they role-play with, which is sometimes but not always sexual, it can be hard for them to be taken seriously. They don't dress in fur suits, often expensive, cumbersome and sweat-inducing, for attention. They do it because it makes them feel authentically like themselves and helps them find community. Ridicule leads some to feel like they've been pushed into the margins of society, where bad behavior can fester and disgruntled individuals can become radicalized. Concerns that multiple members of the fandom had ties to Nazism made headlines in 2017 and have led to the cancellation of at least one convention. For furries who genuinely love animals and role-playing as them, this association is horrific on a moral level, but has also tainted their perception and made them wary of what outsiders might think. 'Furvengers,' assemble A strong contingent of furries wasn't fond of the existence of this docuseries — or even the original blowing of the whistle about the Zoosadism Leaks in 2018 — for fear of how the community at large would be portrayed. But it's a uniquely furry story about the triumph of a fandom over the people using the joyful fandom to conceal their illegal acts. Back then, law enforcement tried and failed to uncover the culprits behind the crime for years, so furry vigilantes known as the Furvengers took matters into their own hands. They used their remarkable tech savvy to pore over chat logs on Telegram, an encrypted messaging app, which was the main channel used in the Zoosadism Leaks, leading to the arrest of a furry involved in animal abuse, who then led them to the suspected ringleader, who was arrested as well. The investigation involved combing through disturbing chat logs and screening traumatizing video footage of animal abuse, but the Furvengers maintained in the docuseries that protecting animals made it all worth it. Love says that the story is, at its heart, about ordinary people who went to extraordinary lengths for justice, regardless of what ridicule they might receive inside or outside of the fandom. 'If you've ever looked at a furry and thought, 'These people are weirdos and something to laugh at,' you're going to watch the series and be pretty surprised at how heroic they really are,' he says.
CBS News
06-07-2025
- Entertainment
- CBS News
Anthrocon expected to generate nearly $22 million for Pittsburgh businesses, report says
Businesses in Downtown Pittsburgh are experiencing a significant boost from the presence of furries in town for Anthrocon, which is expected to draw 19,000 people who will spend nearly $22 million in the city, according to Visit Pittsburgh. At Emporio on Penn Avenue, part of Sienna Mercato, it was hard to get seated quickly Saturday night due to all the furries in town. "It's probably our busiest day of the entire year," said floor manager Lena Balentine around 8 p.m. "Our wait is close to an hour, but we have slowly run out of food in our kitchen, so we have to close at nine tonight. This has never happened before. It didn't happen last year." They are welcoming the furries with open arms, as indicated by a sign at the front door. Having a furry on staff as a server, Bailey, doesn't hurt. "I have been loving it. I have never had so much fun at my job before," she said, sporting furry ears. "It's been lovely; they are such sweethearts, they tip well, they're patient, they're understanding." "And when we have too many people, we just start shoving them down the street," Balentine said. Win Gould, who has attended 30 furry conventions since 2016, explained there are a few reasons why furries spend so much in Pittsburgh. For starters, they like to eat, drink, and have a good time. "We are a bunch of party animals," Gould said. But, he explains, it goes beyond that. He says Pittsburgh has embraced the furries unlike any other city where he's attended a furry convention. That's from the people to the businesses. "There was a sign [at a business] that said, 'We loved having you last year,' and all that does is make us want to go and help out the people that care about us," Gould said. Anthrocon's chairman, Dr. Samuel Conway, said he's proud of how they support and partner with local businesses. "I hear a lot of people say, 'Pittsburgh likes your money.' Of course they do. This is America, but there is a genuine affection in this town for furries. We're not here for the money, we're here for the city," Conway said. "Pittsburgh's success is Anthrocon's success." The convention spills out into the streets, allowing Pittsburghers to join in. "I love Pittsburgh," Gould said. "This is the second time I've been here. And honestly, like, I live in Houston, and if I could move somewhere else, I'd probably look at moving to Pittsburgh, and it's solely because of the way that they treated this con." Gould explained that many furries are naturally introverted. Dressing up allows them to be who they truly are, Gould said, whether that be silly, goofy, or whatever else. "What everybody wants in their life is you want to feel loved and you want to feel welcomed, and the city of Pittsburgh makes us feel like that," Gould said. "So, it's great. I love Anthrocon and I love Pittsburgh. Go Pirates!"
