On Goblins

I have a deep affinity for goblins. 

My first ever D&D character was Dirk Cheeto, a character who was half goblin, half slightly larger goblin. Quite possibly my favourite D&D character is Cousin Crow¹, the lingering remnants of the ancient goblin god of fire that had been shat out by Maglubiyet and now inhabits the body of a goblin middle manager. I wrote an entire bloody game about goblins, I just love them so much. 

I know for a fact that I’m not alone in this: the phrase “Goblin Mode” - meaning to engage in behaviour that is unapologetically self-indulgent, chaotic, slovenly, and in direct opposition to societal norms and standards - was infamously chosen as the Oxford English Dictionary’s word of the year in 2022. Further to this, there are countless TTRPG forum threads bemoaning the antics of the resident “goblin PC” (literal or otherwise: as we’ll touch upon in a moment, being a goblin is often a state of mind). I’d argue that in terms of sheer cultural saturation, only the dragon tops the humble goblin in the Fantasy Critter Olympics². 

Let’s start with the basics. Goblins are diminutive entities found throughout European culture and folklore³, typically associated with a mischievous disposition and a love of chaos. In comparative mythology terms, they are “trickster” archetypes: Entities that stand in opposition to societal norms, using their wiles and cunning to outpace their foes. However, unlike many trickster figures (such as Loki, Reynard the Fox, Bugs Bunny, or Road Runner), the goblin isn’t suave or put-together. The goblin is clever, yes, but not smart; the goblin is agile, but possesses no savoir-faire. The goblin is clumsy, ill-kempt, cartoonish, and unpleasant - what we, in the UK, call a “rotter”. 

In fantasy fiction, this is amped up to eleven. The stereotypical goblin as it appears in modern fantasy fiction is a smelly, dishevelled, untameable creature: A heavily-armed toddler with green skin and a penchant for biting. Sometimes they are industrious⁴ and ingenious, a dark mirror to the gnome or dwarf. Sometimes they are primitive, a sort of pre-human cannon fodder, mirroring the humble simplicity of the halfling or Hobbit. In video games, RPGs, comic books, and fantasy fiction alike, they are enemies, to be slain with little ethical concern. 

So why do I like them so much? 

Well, firstly we must return to my flippant “green-skinned toddler” comment from the previous paragraph. Goblins are, simply put, kind of cute. They are small, feisty creatures, capable of incredible acts of naughtiness. They are a sort of eternal little brother, getting up to charming mischief while mum and dad are out. One trend I have noticed is a move towards “cuter” goblin design in fiction: In settings in which goblins are either neutral or sympathetic creatures, they are typically depicted with large eyes, hands, and feet, further compounding any comparisons to toddlers and children. In settings where they are antagonistic, they are more generally depicted with beady eyes, large noses, and other anti-semitic dog-whistles⁵ that I, as a gentile, am simply not qualified to comment on here. 

Secondly, they are an underdog. They are almost always among the first enemies encountered in a fantasy setting, one step above the giant spiders that have inhabited tutorial levels since time immemorial. The goblin may pose a threat to an unaccompanied child or a particularly tasty-looking rat, but they will barely leave a dent in the average chainmail-clad adventurer. 

In my games, I like to take this a step further. In We Stalk the Hedgerows, goblins are such innate underdogs that they even have a dedicated cultural role whose sole purpose is to suck worse than everyone else. These boggarts are weedy, miserable, and terribly unlucky - they are also incredibly vital, and occasionally capable of transferring their ill-fortune to a nearby foe. The weakness of these poor beasties, ultimately, is their greatest strength. 

Finally - and perhaps most importantly for me - they are indomitable. While they are certainly underdogs, they are still able to survive impossible odds through sheer tenacity and cunning. That chainmail-clad adventurer could kick a goblin to the curb, sure, but what about that goblin’s seventy-six heavily-armed brothers and sisters? What about the traps, tricks, and troubles that line their lair? There is something charming about any creature - fictional or not - so determined to survive no matter what. 

Full candour: I am a chubby, weak-willed writer with ADHD and a joint disability. On the food chain, I sit somewhere between slime moulds and woodlice. And yet, like the goblin, I want to not only survive but thrive, and in order to do so I may have to be clever, cunning, tenacious, and vivacious. I need to face the chainmail-clad adventurer head-on and when he falls into one of my countless traps I need to look down at his prone form and, like the Road Runner before me, say “meep meep”. 

I will no doubt return to this topic at a later date, but I just wanted to get this all out there. I love goblins. And I think you should too. 

To live out your own goblin fantasies, try we stalk the hedgerows for free now!

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¹ Players of my game We Stalk the Hedgerows may recognise that name.

² Angels were famously disqualified from participating in the Fantasy Critter Olympics for doping.

³ Though there are a wide variety of goblin-like creatures in folklore from around the world. Depending on the looseness of one’s definition, the Japanese Kappa, Wampanoag Pukwudgie, Korean Dokkaebi, and Mayan Alux are all goblin-adjacent.

⁴ A trait inherited from Tolkein’s depictions of the goblin’s taller, stockier cousin, the orc.

⁵  Looking at you, Rowling. You TERFy bigot.