From Dogs to Dragons: Kobold Evolution

Kobolds in Dungeons & Dragons have their roots in mythology, but they have gradually transformed into devious trapmakers capable of routing a high-level party, and for that we can thank a DM named Tucker.

[h=3]The OG Kobold[/h]Aaron Mahnke's Lore podcast, "Tampered," gives the origin of the kobold as beginning with "goblin," a phrase originating in the Middle Ages -- kobold, gobold, gobolin -- the root word being "kob," which means "beneath the earth" (sharing origin with the word "cove").

Kobolds in folklore were fey-like beings of Germanic mythology about the size of a small child, divided into a variety of types depending on where they lived: house kobolds were more human-like, mine kobolds were hunched and ugly, while ship kobolds smoked pipes and dressed like sailors. Of the three types, D&D draws inspiration from the mining kobold:

Folklorists have proposed that the mine kobold derives from the beliefs of the ancient Germanic people. Scottish historical novelist Walter Scott has suggested that the Proto-Norse based the kobolds on the short-statured Finns, Lapps, and Latvians who fled their invasions and sought shelter in northern European caves and mountains. There they put their skills at smithing to work and, in the beliefs of the proto-Norse, came to be seen as supernatural beings. These beliefs spread, becoming the kobold, the Germanic gnome, the French goblin and the Scottish bogle. In contrast, Humorists William Edmonstoune Aytoun and Theodore Martin (writing as "Bon Gaultier") have proposed that the Norse themselves were the models for the mine kobold and similar creatures, such as dwarfs, goblins, and trolls; Norse miners and smiths "were small in their physical proportions, and usually had their stithies near the mouths of the mines among the hills." This gave rise to myths about small, subterranean creatures, and the stories spread across Europe "as extensively as the military migrations from the same places did".


Of the mine kobolds, they were described as two-foot tall old men dressed like miners with pitch-black skin and ugly features. Their hearts glowed with a light "about the size of a cheese plate."

Mine kobolds were often portrayed as malicious, evil beasts who plagued miners. They were blamed for all sorts of noises in a mine, and were were fond of playing pranks on humans who trespassed in their territory. Mine kobolds would fool errant miners into taking an ore that burned to the touch -- what we now know today as cobalt, which bears their namesake.

It's perhaps no surprise that by the time kobolds debuted in D&D, they were portrayed as another variant of goblin. They wouldn't stay that way for long.
[h=3]Consider the Kobold[/h]D&D's Supplement II: Blackmoor portrayed kobolds as weaker goblins. It wasn't until Advanced Dungeons & Dragons First Editionthat they appeared as distinct from goblins. Their appearance would change with each edition:

Since then, they have been scaly lizards with dog faces, dog creatures with scales, dog creatures that look disturbingly like rats, tiny lizard people, and basically baby dragonborn. They are another one of those things that have been in every edition. Even the original White Box in 1974. And they are steeped in D&D Lore. Every group has thumped their way through a kobold cave at low levels, treating the kobolds as experience point filled pinatas. They dwell in every climate, and they can be found just about anywhere where first level adventurers need an opponent. And as much as the books try to tell us that the kobolds are clever, cunning, and inventive alchemists and trapsmiths, that never seems to be borne out at the table. Unless your DM is named Tucker.


Ah yes, Tucker's Kobolds. Then editor of Dragon Magazine, Roger E. Moore, had quite a bit to say about kobolds and none of it good.
[h=3]"Little Things--Used Well"[/h]Moore's editorial in Dragon Magazine #127 would go down in history. He explained how a DM named Tucker ran a dangerous dungeon when Moore was stationed at Ft. Bragg, NC. The players were in the higher level ranges (6th to 12th, which was considered higher level in First Edition than it would today) and jaded because of a challenge in monster design that faced many gaming groups:

Many high-level characters have little to do because they're not challenged. They yawn at tarrasques and must be forcibly kept awake when a lich appears. The DMs involved don't know what to do, so they stop dealing with the problem and the characters go into Character Limbo. Getting to high level is hard, but doing anything once you get there is worse. One of the key problems in adventure design lies in creating opponents who can challenge powerful characters. Singular monsters like tarrasques and liches are easy to gang up on; the party can concentrate its firepower on the target until the target falls down dead and wiggles its little feet in the air. Designing monsters more powerful than a tarrasque is self-defeating; if the group kills your super-monster, what will you do next--send in its mother? That didn't work on Beowulf, and it probably won't work here.


Tucker's solution? Kobolds of course:

This dungeon had corridors that changed all of your donkeys into huge flaming demons or dropped the whole party into acid baths, but the demons were wienies compared to the kobolds on Level One. These kobolds were just regular kobolds, with 1-4 hp and all that, but they were mean. When I say they were mean, I mean they were bad, Jim. They graduated magna cum laude from the Sauron Institute for the Criminally Vicious.


Tucker's kobolds used every dirty trick in the book, including locking doors, setting corridors on fire, using crossbows and murder holes, Molotov cocktails, and creating a honeycomb of small tunnels they could traverse easily to harry the PCs.

DMs and designers took note. But it would take six years before Moore's tale was put into practice in an official D&D product.
[h=3]Kobolds & Dragons[/h]Paul Arden Lidberg, Colin McComb, and Thomas M. Reid were taking notes when they designed Dragon Mountain, as described by Rick Swan in Dragon Magazine #200's review:

It’s a funhouse of foul-tempered monsters and convoluted traps, designed for characters with the stamina of Greek gods and an appetite for abuse. Best of all, it boasts one of the nastiest, sneakiest surprises I'’ve ever seen in a fantasy adventure. I won’t spill the beans, but I’ll give you a hint: The surprise involves one of the game’s most underused and underappreciated adversaries--hundreds of them, in fact.


Swan's talking about kobolds, of course:

The kobolds of Dragon Mountain have adapted to their surroundings so well that they have learned to use many of the old dwarven weapons and traps that were left after the dragon took power. They utilize their resources to the fullest extent possible, and they acquire additional supplies and so forth from the various villages and towns that they raid and plunder. The kobolds understand that they are heavily overmatched in toe-to-toe fights, so they almost never combat enemies this way if they can avoid it. Instead, they try to lure invaders into specially prepared traps where they can bombard the enemy with flaming oil, deadfalls, poisonous arrows, and so forth.


Their tactics include a witch doctor casting a web on PCs followed by arrows and spears; being lured into a pit trap with a stinking cloud cast into it; heat metal cast by a shaman on warriors while kobolds attack; casting silence on spellcasters; using charm or hold on PCs; snaring them with nets and ropes; and when all that fails, using surprise to attempt to overbear PCs with sheer numbers.

MTlGuy explains the connection between Tucker's kobolds and the Dragon Mountain kobolds:

Long story short, 'Dragon Mountain' is a fallen Dwarf Fortress shared between a Red Dragon and a dozen Kobold clans that has been extensively renovated according to the Kobolds preferences. The mountain planeshifts to another world every few months or so at the behest of its resident Red Dragon. The Kobolds then raid the surrounding settlements for food, materiel, and treasure...The notes suggest that the DM play the Kobolds as though they were on a learning curve. Tactics that work the first time, the second and the third start to provoke responses from the Kobolds that result in diminishing returns or responses that defeat the tactic utterly.


By the time Third Edition was published, kobolds had decidedly changed. They were scaly, crocodile-like beings who worshiped dragons and were known for their ability to create traps. Tucker's demonstration -- thanks to Moore's retelling -- gave DMs everywhere some wicked ideas on how "little things, used well" could be deadly no matter what they looked like.

Mike "Talien" Tresca is a freelance game columnist, author, communicator, and a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for sites to earn advertising fees by advertising and linking to http://amazon.com. You can follow him at Patreon.
 

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Michael Tresca

Michael Tresca

I expected this would detail the evolution of the species, but instead it went on to the Tucker DM's descriptions... I'd have preferred to read about just what and why changed in 3E when kobolds became draconic creatures, whose idea it was, etc.
I frankly always wondered why and how the traps would be a greater challenge to a high level party...? I mean I assume every such party would include a high level thief/rogue who can detect and disarm the traps in advance.
 

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Traps, I've found, do two things: the first one causes damage to the unwary party, alerting them to the possibility of further traps; thereafter, the party moves very slowly, searching/detecting/sacrificing ("101 uses for a dead gnome") looking for more traps. As a DM, I don't like the slowdown effect in my games - limited time to play, this isn't fun for me, or generally, for them. As you say, though, once they are alerted to the potential for traps, a well-balanced and equipped party is not bothered by them.

(Wise humanoids, though, can set just the one trap, watch the invaders slow down to obsessively search, and use that time to ambush, regroup, retreat, etc.)


Regarding the evolution of the kobold monster concept - I too was looking for something more here. I was hoping, in my heart of hearts, that this was an intentional shift (from gnome to dog to dragon) by designers, for specific story or mechanics reasons. Silly me.

Personally, I am fond of the draconic heritage (real or imagined) angle, but that might be colored by a favorite PC of mine (a kobold druid who thought he *was* a dragon, and cast his spells from his mouth not his hands - produce flame for example!). I also like the idea that the weakest of all foes might have a claim on the greatest, like Dragon Mountain.
 

Going back to the whole "Tucker's Kobolds" thing, I think the game has somewhat had a disservice done to it with the early modules. Things like Caves of Chaos or Slaver's Stockade, that sort of thing. They present a home for the humanoids, who, while perhaps not as smart as a smart human, certainly aren't stupid either, that is laughably defended.

When you stop and think about it, probably the most dangerous lair to head down into would be a humanoid lair. Sure, a dragon's lair is dangerous, because it's a bloody dragon. But, a humanoid lair, presuming that this group of humanoids has inhabited the lair for some time, years or possibly even generations, would be an unbelievable death trap. These are very violent, very aggressive creatures that are also very intelligent (at least, far more intelligent than any animal). There should be ballista traps and kill zones all over the place. Hidden entrances and hidey holes everywhere.

If you spin it around, and handed players a group of kobolds and a lair and told them to defend that lair, imagine the inch by inch death trap that the players would turn it into. But, outside of a couple of pit traps and whatnot, most humanoid lairs are just a cave with little to no thought given to defense.

I think the next campaign I run, I'm going to give this a spin. Tell the players that I'm going to defend positions to the best of my ability, no holds barred. I think it would make a really memorable campaign.

I'm always torn between this idea and the thought that the lair is a place where the humanoids will be living as well as defending. Mama goblin won't want baby goblin wandering off into the pit trap, after all.
 

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