Goblins?, and Goblins

Goblins? is an RPG. In it, you play as a goblin.

It is not unique.

In recent years the prevalence of Goblin-focused RPGs has exploded. There’s Goblins in Shadow, Noblesse Goblige, Gobs of Gobs, Hannukah Goblins, The Goblin Warrens, Goblin Country, You are 100 Goblins, Now Go Save the World, Goblins and Grimoires, I’ll be Taking That, All the Kings Goblins, Journey through Goblinland, Those Little Bastards, We Gank at Midnight, Goblin Market, Disgusting Little Freaks, Stacks of Goblins, GOB, Goblin Karting, and Three Goblins in a Trenchcoat; and that’s certainly not all of them.

Now, it’s not like there aren’t a lot of duplicate genres in RPG-land. You’ll come up with a comparable number of Sci-Fi systems, same as with magical fantasy, supernatural horror, and any other genre you’d care to name.

So, I suppose that means “Goblin” has to be a genre too.

Why? I can’t think of a concrete game idea why goblins are somehow more prevalent a focus of RPGs than, say, wolves, slimes, orcs, or imps.

Come to think of it, why not imps?

Is it because goblins are more cute? No; imps can be just as cute as goblins and goblins ain’t always cute. Imps are just as ambiguously evil, mischievous, similarly shaped and sized, possibly a bit more magical, a bit less feral…

What is it about goblins?

I don’t have any great intelligent answer. This is a relaxing vacation of a post, musing about a societal trend without anything to back my theories up apart from my own fevered imaginings.

Some of it must be sentimental; Goblins were the first monster most of us early adventurers fought. They could be alternately weak and dangerous, depending on which side was surprised or outnumbered. A well-run group of Goblins were probably one of the first real challenges we old-timers had, and crushing them after gaining a few levels was one of our first tastes of victory.

We tend to be drawn to our villains. Whether it is our inclusive nature or our contrarian instincts, we always find ourselves finding things to admire in our monsters. Vampires are apex predators, but they’re also sexy. Hannibal Lecter was a serial killer, but he was intelligent, erudite, and uncomfortably charismatic. Godzilla destroyed Tokyo, yes, but he’s an honorable and resolute fighter. Killmonger wanted to rule an abusive global hegemony, but didn’t he have a point about how abusive global hegemonies are bad? Darth Vader was a cruel and power-hungry warmonger, but wasn’t the imperial senate really bureaucratic? And which is the greater sin, really?

Is it because evil is cool? No, goblins certainly aren’t “cool”…are they? The problem with goblins is you can describe them however you like and the antithesis is still somehow “goblin.” Goblins are dirty and crass, belching and farting their way through the garbage dumps of society; but put a goblin in a leather jacket and sunglasses, and you haven’t subverted “goblinism,” you just have a cool goblin.

Goblins are a kind of malleable Rorschach test, being alternately cute and ugly, crafty and stupid, shrewd and bestial, cruel and pitiful, and sometimes all in the same text. They can be campy comic relief, or demonic and threatening. They can be anything, because they really don’t mean anything.

In their video on Postmodernism, the Leftist Cooks explain how Postmodernism, being antagonistic to “meaning,” allows for constant permutations on established tropes and internal references. The example they use — Batman — cannot be subverted, only displaced. You can spoof or parody the tropes of Superman by making him evil, corrupt, or ineffective, but how can you subvert Batman? As Neil puts it, “you’d have to make him nice, and happy, and optimistic, and colorful; but that’s already been done, and it remained Batman.”

Is that it? Are goblins a postmodern self-referential goulash of anti-structure, anti-sincerity, and anti-meaning? If we surrender to the goblin mindset, and let all that pesky thought and sincerity and meaning go, are we free to just talk about RPGs? Just have fun?

I believe: No. Because you can subvert the goblin trope.

I think goblins aren’t postmodern at all, but markedly meta-modern. They are the flexible and self-expressive sincerity of the positive-nihilist. They are the subversive and emotive passion of Camus’ Absurd, being creative, aggressive, and passionate in turn. You subvert the goblin trope by defining it.

Something happens when we grow up. For better or worse, when we learn to think for ourselves we begin to question the self-evident. We begin to wonder if the angels are always right or if monsters were born evil. We look at things we were told were bad and wonder why they’re so bad. We start to mistrust the stories we’ve been told.

Sometimes we experiment, taking a drink of alcohol before we’re of age or inspecting roadkill a little closer than our parents would want. Sometimes we indulge in fanfiction, turning the villains of our stories into anti-heroes. Goblins are prime candidates for the principle of carnival, where societal expectations are reversed or suspended — Not because there is no meaning in the expectations, but because there is meaning in the subversion.

Goblin-mode is a phrase that has achieved wide-spread use thanks to a viral post in 2022: specifically, the embrace of self-enjoyment without regard for societal expectations or standards, including self-image or self-respect.

Goblincore is a subculture aesthetic based on the celebration of natural things not usually considered beautiful, such as soil or animal bones, as well as embracing second-hand chic. A tacky cracked teacup is as worthy of a spot on your mantle as a vase of flowers.

Goblins are cruel demonic beasts that crouch in shadows to steal children and spoil milk. They are buffoons and clowns, frantically searching for an evil wizard or strong ogre to become minions for. They can even thwart their fantasy genre conventions to reach into space. They are scamps and scalawags, gremlins and gargoyles. They are ugly-cute, ugly-ugly, primal, dirty, and magical. They are slapdash, chaotic, and loud. They are obsequious and untrustworthy, layabouts when it’s important and hard-workers when it’s not. They subvert. They challenge. They are Punk.

Goblins are everything we are not supposed to be.

Are there any better candidates for RPGs, where we can express parts of ourselves we usually don’t, embrace behaviors we usually shouldn’t, and celebrate activities that others find distasteful?

Are we all not Goblins of a kind? Should we not be?

It is no accident, I think, that Goblin-based games are primarily the purview of the indie-sphere. When one starts to question the multitude of mores surrounding RPGs, adopting a de facto symbol in the grungy and scrappy Goblin is perhaps unavoidable. We’re not the shiny heroes in glittering armor looked up to by the masses. We’re not wise wizards or wealthy thieves. We’re not beggars, spies, priests, superheroes, shapeshifters, vampires, wanderers of the wastes, or anything of that kind. We don’t even want to be.

But three Goblins, working together, could put on a trenchcoat and be anything.

It’ll be ugly, clumsy, messy as all hell, but it’ll be ours. And no glittering paladin from the fancy city with their purchased haircuts and regular baths can take it away from us without a fight!