One of my offspring is quite attached to a podcast in which a woman very nicely reads (pleasingly unvarnished and unbowdlerised) fairy tales and classic children's stories. One of them is Hans Christian Anderson's The Snow Queen.
If you don't know The Snow Queen, it's framed by a sort of story-within-a-story in which an evil spirit has created a looking glass which causes everything to be reflected in a distorted way so as to appear like a twisted, sinister version of itself. The spirit and his cronies take the looking glass to heaven in order to make fun of God and the angels, but it shatters on the way into millions of tiny fragments, which then descend to earth to make various kinds of mischief.
The translation which is used in the podcast in question describes this evil spirit as 'one of the very worst kinds of hobgoblins' - a turn of phrase which never ceases to intrigue me, because of what it implies: that there are lots of different kinds of hobgoblin, some worse than others.
Having done some further investigations I'm not sure this translation is very accurate - the original Danish reads:
for det var en ond trold! det var en af de allerværste, det var "djævelen"!
And this, various online dictionaries informs me, means something like 'there was an evil troll; it was one of the very worst, it was a devil'. I don't speak Danish so I'm not sure, but I don't think there is anything here that implies there are different kinds of 'trold' ('Det var en af de alllerværste' = 'That was one of the very worst'?). MR James (who, astonishingly, translated it back in the day) rendered this 'There was a wicked troll. He was one of the very worst sort—he was the devil.' But, likewise, I don't know where 'sort' comes from here, unless it's just a way of accentuating the wickedness. The rendering of 'trold' as hobgoblin seems forgivable, because as I understand it 'trolls' in Scandinavian myth were more elf-like than ogre-like (as they tend to be in English fairy tales); somebody from that neck of the woods will now no doubt appear in the comments to tell me that I am a fool and wrong and that everything I say here is foolish wrongness. But this is the state of play as I see it, vis-a-vis translations of the opening section of The Snow Queen.
Anyway, the concept of there being different kinds of hobgoblin interests me. This is because hobgoblins tend to be unjustly overlooked in D&D, at least in my experience. The main reason for this is that they have difficulty differentiating themselves from goblins and orcs. Goblins have the 'sneaky, malicious, deceptive' humanoid angle sewn up, and orcs have the 'evil, militaristic brute' territory. What then is a hobgoblin - other than an amalgam of both?
Over the years D&D staked out hobgoblins as a sort of lawful evil counterpart to the chaotic evil orcs - the idea being that hobgoblins are regimented, militarised, and hierarchical where orcs are savage and brutal. Characteristically this was spoiled in 2nd edition by making orcs lawful evil and militaristic as well, rendering hobgoblins almost redundant But thereafter, at least as far as I can tell (I am no expert on D&D post-2nd edition) the difference has been more clearly staked out: in 5th edition hobgoblins almost seem to resemble klingons:
This is not very inspired and feels inauthentic - sort of tacked on. The good thing about goblins and orc (and any really iconic monster) is that they tap into forms of disquiet that we feel viscerally. There is something scary about a small, sneaky, deceptive, malicious trickster. There is something scary about wanton cruelty and violence. There isn't anything all that viscerally scary about having a hypertrophied sense or order or honour, which appears to be what later editions riff on when it come to hobgoblins. We may disapprove of taking those things too far, but this in itself isn't enough to strike at any nerves in a primal sense (and in any case it overlaps with what we tend to think of when it comes to dwarfs).
The implication that there are different kinds of hobgoblin frees us up a little bit. Instead of being a single monster type, it becomes more like a category or spectrum - a family, if you like, of different varieties of evil humanoids. The question then becomes, what are the different types of hobgoblin?
The implication that there are different kinds of hobgoblin frees us up a little bit. Instead of being a single monster type, it becomes more like a category or spectrum - a family, if you like, of different varieties of evil humanoids. The question then becomes, what are the different types of hobgoblin?
Well, there is the aforementioned 5th edition hobgoblin-as-klingon. You could even take this further and make them something almost like the Spartans of 300 stereotype turned to 11 - an entire race of satanic Lt Worfs without Captain Picard to keep them in check.
Then there is the hobgoblin of Warhammer, of course, who if anything, at least in older editions, was supposed to be something like a Hun, Mongol or Cossack - a nomadic steppe raider going everywhere on wolfback. I hadn't remembered this, but they were even supposed to be ruled by a 'Hobgobla Khan', the lord of the 'Mournguls':
Then there is the folkloric hobgoblin, suggested by the prefix 'Hob-'. Tolkien is the one responsible for describing hobgoblins as bigger variants of goblins (in the preface to The Hobbit); actually 'Hob' is said to be a medieval diminutive for Robert or Rob, which if anything suggests a small, familiar or even cutesy creature - more like a brownie, sprite or knocker:
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These days in Britain you see Hobgoblin beer everywhere. The latest versions are very corporate and bland, but once upon a time it was a lovely, characterful beer (one of a line of ales with folkloric motifs brewed by Wychwood brewery). Here the hobgoblin is very much along the lines of a goblin, though one rooted much more in fairy tales than Tolkien - more like an evil woodsman who you might, nonetheless, enjoy a pint with in a tavern if he's in a good mood after a day's hunting:
The most interesting hobgoblin variant may be White Wolf's from Changeling: The Lost, where they can take almost any form and inhabit the Hedge, the liminal realm between the realm of mortals and faerie:
You may be able to suggest more - feel free to do so in the comment. As to which is the very worst kind (Spartan-klingon; 'Mourngul' horde; Robin Goodfellow; evil woodcutter; shapeshifting farie), you can make up your mind.
In 1st edition and 2nd edition, orcs were lawful evil. They were changed to chaotic evil with 3rd edition. But anyway...
ReplyDeleteThe Heretic
The entire universe is collapsing around me.
DeleteIt happens to the best of us. I had to find a copy of the MM online to make sure I wasn't misremembering things.
DeleteBack to the topic at hand, weren't most of the names for the humanoid monsters taken from words for generic evil spirits. Goblins, kobolds, trolls, ogres. Poorly defined fairytale creatures/evil spirits. I'd probably have to say that the shapeshifting faerie is the very worst kind.
The Heretic
Now we come to the interesting thing: it it the worst as in the evillest, or the lowest quality?
DeleteEvillest. They can do some nasty stuff while shapeshifted. Makes me think of the Broken Sword.
DeleteThe Heretic
Both “hobgoblin” and “bugbear” are words that I think of primarily with respect to their figurative usage: both refer to a psychological hangup, tic, bad habit, or preoccupation. Much like one might be said to have “demons” or to be “haunted”, one’s hobgoblin or bugbear is the vexing thing that one cannot rid oneself of, the thing that gets in the way and trips one up. (Emerson, 1841: “a foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds”.)
ReplyDeleteOperationalising that in D&D would be interesting. It feels storygamey, but perhaps there is a way of making it work mechanically.
DeleteI had (have(?)) always assumed D&D hobgoblins were basically Isengarders since I first began playing at age ten: civilised militarised evil, often in service to dark masters; contrasted by the wilder goblins and orcs, who are distinguished by the greater size and boldness of the latter.
ReplyDeleteI was very surprised and annoyed when I discovered orcs were not.vounted among goblinkind in D&D, supplanted by some absurd (to my young mind) creature called a "bugbear".
Regarding the translation of "troll". Since it is a loan from the Scandinavian languages which has been in English for barely a long-century, I think it silly to render it as anything else, especially since the English usage does not necessarily suggest anything terribly divergent from the original Scandinavian creature.
That would accord with Tolkien, I suppose - that line in The Hobbit does almost imply that hobgoblins are the same thing as what would eventually be the Uruk-hai?
DeleteOrcs frequently travel in caravans of wagons with immense amounts of gold (but only by night?) and often live in fortified compounds despite being severely averse to day light.
ReplyDeleteSurely there's no particular reason why nocturnal creatures couldn't live in fortified compounds? Probably they have daywatchmen manning the walls, griping about having to take the graveyard watch when the awful sun is glaring directly overhead, and so on.
DeleteA bugbear is a great hairy giant goblin with a pumpkin head that moves quietly and as such is more likely to surprise you than most denizens of the underworld or wilderness. It is properly of the giant class.
ReplyDeleteMaybe hobgoblins are goblins by birth, but misfits among their kind, and as such each is an individual kind of bad, some much worse than others. A few might be big enough and ambitious enough to bully their goblin bands into gangs, while others hang around human settlements or attach themselves to evil wizards or whatever. The worst kind is undoubtedly the kind that's clever enough to come up with some kind of crazy scheme involving a magic mirror or something.
ReplyDelete-Joel
Each hobgoblin is an individual. Sounds like there's a need for a random table...
DeleteThe one screwy thing about 1e MM ho-gos is their samurai-styled armour. A lot follows from that - their continued reputation of order and discipline combined with ruthlessness, for one. Even in 5th hobgoblins are most distinct for their high AC (18!) and a bonus to damage when formed up.
ReplyDeleteInteresting point. There's some research to be done into how an initial artist's rendering of a monster influences its 'canonical' nature.
DeleteI figured the answer to your questions is probably contained in Blood Bowl's The Hobgoblin Team:
ReplyDelete("...the team is so stupid the only name they could come up with was 'The Hobgoblin Team'. Half of them weren't even Hobgoblins at the time! The Hobgobs haven't even got a home stadium, because the first one they built caught fire, the second one they built fell over, and the third one caught fire and then fell over")
a counterpoint to this idea of there being nothing "viscerally scary about having a hypertrophied sense or order or honour." What's scary, is where such an engorgement leads to - the inevitable comedown back into indiscipline- Dennis Hopper's monologue in Apocalypse Now, "There's something happening out here, man. You know something, man? I know something you that you don't know. That's right, Jack. The man is clear in his mind, but his soul is mad. Oh, yeah. He's dying, I think...he likes you because you're still alive."
goblins are asexual creatures that reproduce by stew-- a goblin village has a big bubbling cauldron in the center of it that's constantly churning out different sorts of goblins, depending on what's thrown into the stew at the time. hobgoblins happen when humans drink of the goblin stew in order to gain goblin powers. bugbears happen when a larger creature like a human or an ape is boiled alive in the stew, mutating it hideously.
ReplyDeleteRegarding the DnD Goblinoid trio, my take on them is that they're the same species:
DeleteThe three recognised “races” of Goblinoid are in fact a single species. A pregnant goblin’s body utilises available resources in three distinct ways, resulting in variable gestation lengths and young optimised for different conditions.
The first method produces a single, oversized infant with a neurology customised for a more solitary existence than goblinoids typically prefer. This is a bugbear, noted for their self-sufficiency, comfort operating as lone scouts, and surprising capacity for stealth. A bugbear gestation is longer than average, and the infant is born at a higher level of physical and mental development. A bugbear can only be born to other bugbears or hobgoblins, as the smaller frame of a goblin cannot survive the strain. Originally, bugbear pregnancies were the consequence of plentiful times, when a given population of Goblinoids was secure in an apex predatory role. They could afford long gestation periods, and favoured minimal offspring to avoid upsetting a healthy food pyramid with uncontrolled population growth; a failsafe against the possibility of turning boom into bust through excess breeding. Instead, each new life was provided with the full resources of its healthy mother and prepared for the world as thoroughly as possible before being born. For all that some races stereotype Goblinoids as “hoard-like” (a result of the Goblins’ mob-like conduct coupled with an aversion to the warfare that is so intrinsic to Hobgoblins), Goblinoids are in fact creatures of inherent restraint and balance, right down to the biological level. They are almost tailored to successfully hold a predatory niche without succumbing to extremes of failure or of success; the latter being potentially as disastrous in the long-term.
The second breeding method produces a small litter of 3, 4, or 5 young, with resources distributed more or less equally between the developing foetuses. This produces a “Hand” of Hobgoblins, who possess a natural affinity for order and discipline, having bonded within the womb from earliest development, subject to a selective and balanced system of biological oversight. Hobgoblins are accepting of deprivation and plenty as equal forces shaping a cooperative, and combine tight devotion to peers with instinctual stratification. Restraint is once again an inherent feature of their biology, and as the division of resources is governed as much by the mother’s body as actual availability of food, Hobgoblins are naturally shaped into Lawful creatures.
The third method channels the mother’s resources into producing a litter of 7-10 Goblins, diminutive young given to chaotic mob behaviour over organised pack-hunting, her body rushing to produce viable offspring and in large numbers, rather than slowing to ensure an even distribution for a lesser number of fully-develop young.
Biologically, the Hobgoblin might be considered the “standard” for the race, with Goblins and Bugbears common deviations produced under certain conditions to maximise the survival chances of the social group. In a modern state of civilization, different factors of nutrition, environmental pressure, divine favour, or magical exposure can influence which type of gestation a pregnancy will result in. Goblinoid politics and immigration patterns are often informed by current caste balance, and attempts on a societal level to find preferable or favoured percentages, or else to influence the outcome in favour of personal preferences.
How do the different types end up banding together, though?
DeleteFixating for a minute on the HCA story part of this post --
ReplyDeleteFirst, I read "kind" and "sort" here as in "he's just the worst kind of person," i.e. not a physically distinct typology, but a social or psychological distinction based on behavior. (But maybe you know that and were just using an initial coincidence of terms as a springboard for your main thoughts about fantasy gaming.)
The other, even more tangential comment, is that it always strikes me how aggressively, virulently, hard-core Christian our Mr. Hans Christian Anderson is. Like, boiled down, his Snow Queen reads like a polemic about how math and science are terrible bad things that will sap all the happiness and beauty from your life, and the only way anybody should ever use their time is in joyful unthinking prayer (perhaps interspersed with a little light gardening).
A lot of children's literature is like that. It's a theme - humanities people don't like maths!
DeleteI've used them as a weird, unusual non-human beings, as well as bizarre more mysterious fairy tale like creatures, also rendering them as Jim Henson like creatures makes the goblin-oids otherworldly and better than just humans but with green or red skin.
ReplyDeleteIt is best to not call them Hobgoblins, or Bugbears, just use the description from the monster manual and instantly it becomes a strange, new creature.
This is a good rule of thumb, perhaps - don't name things the players encounter.
Delete"There isn't anything all that viscerally scary about having a hypertrophied sense or order or honour"
ReplyDeleteConsidering how modern society has vilified orderlyness, honor and hiearchy itself and all masculine things I'd say Hobgoblins are VERY scary to modern people.
Aren't those characteristics what the 5th edition version, which allows for hobgoblin PCs, trades on, though?
Delete‘Hob’ is an old English name for the or a Devil, Asmodeus worshipping devil goblins
ReplyDeleteDon't all goblins worship the devil? ;)
DeleteIt seems that nobody's made this comment yet, so here's a translation of that original line from a first-language Swedish speaker (and the Scandinavian languages are close enough that I offer this with a very high degree of certainty): "...because it was an evil troll! It was one of the very worst, it was 'the devil'!"
ReplyDeleteIn context, the story begins "Se så! nu begynder vi. Når vi er ved enden af historien, ved vi mere, end vi nu ved, for det var en ond trold! det var en af de allerværste, det var "djævelen"! En dag var han i et rigtigt godt humør" which I would translate as "Alright! let's begin. When we're at the end of the story, we'll know more, than we know now, for there was an evil troll! It was one of the very worst, it was 'the devil'! One day, he was in a really good mood". You can see that I changed the relevant part a little, and the reason for that is that "for der var en ond trold" is basically serving as an equivalent of the English formula "once upon a time there was an evil troll". "Because" doesn't really work in that role in English, or so it seems to me.
In any case, you're correct that the Danish original doesn't imply any taxonomy of hobgoblins; "troll" here basically denotes "an evil being" and unsurprisingly, Satan is one of the worst. (If anything, I'd say the real money is in the implication that he has some competition! But this too comports with the Devil of folktales generally, who can be a fairly ambiguous fellow, e.g. as he appears in the Grimm story "The Devil's Sooty Brother" – one of my favorites of the lot, incidentally.)
Thanks for this! Yes, some languages do this - starting a story with 'Because such and such'. How conventions differ in this way is interesting.
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