How to Train Your Dragon Toys: Collecting, Playing, and Building a Viking-Sized Collection

Viking longships once sailed through children's imaginations carrying fierce warriors and treasure. Today, those same waters are patrolled by dragons—specifically, the beloved creatures from DreamWorks' phenomenally successful franchise that transformed how kids (and let's be honest, adults) think about these mythical beasts. Walk into any toy store between 2010 and now, and you'll witness shelves dominated by Night Furies, Deadly Nadders, and Gronckles, each plastic figure representing not just a character but an entire universe of storytelling possibilities.

I remember standing in a Target toy aisle in 2014, watching a father and his daughter debate whether Toothless's tail fin should be red or black—a detail only true fans would notice. That moment crystallized something profound about these toys: they weren't just merchandise; they'd become vessels for shared experiences between generations.

The Evolution from Screen to Shelf

When the first film premiered in 2010, toy manufacturers faced an interesting challenge. Unlike typical dragon toys that emphasized fearsome qualities, these needed to capture personality, humor, and most importantly, the bond between dragon and rider. Spin Master initially held the master toy license, creating everything from basic action figures to elaborate playsets that recreated Berk's dragon training academy.

The early figures were... well, let's call them enthusiastic attempts. Toothless's pupils were often painted slightly off-center, giving him a perpetually surprised expression that hardcore fans found endearing in its imperfection. But as the franchise grew, so did the sophistication of the toys. By the time the second film rolled around, we were seeing articulated wings, firing projectiles, and electronic features that would make 1990s toy designers weep with envy.

Playmobil entered the arena with their distinctive take, creating sets that emphasized storytelling over screen accuracy. Their Hiccup might have had that characteristic Playmobil smile, but their dragon ships and Viking fortresses offered play possibilities the action figures couldn't match. It's fascinating how different manufacturers interpreted the same source material—like jazz musicians riffing on a familiar melody.

Understanding the Collector's Landscape

Here's something the casual observer might miss: How to Train Your Dragon toys exist in multiple collecting ecosystems. You've got the mainstream retail releases, the convention exclusives, the international variants, and what I call the "holy grails"—those limited production runs that make collectors wake up at 3 AM to refresh Japanese import sites.

The Build-A-Bear Workshop Toothless, released in 2019, exemplifies this perfectly. Originally priced at around $35, mint condition examples now command triple that price. Why? It's not just scarcity—it's the tactile memory of children who hugged theirs to pieces, making pristine survivors increasingly rare. There's poetry in that, really. The most loved toys become the most valuable precisely because most were loved into oblivion.

Then there's the Mega Construx (formerly Mega Bloks) sets, which occupy this weird middle ground between LEGO sophistication and accessible pricing. Their dragon builds are surprisingly complex, with some featuring over 1,000 pieces. I spent a weekend assembling their Toothless set, and halfway through, my fingers cramping, I gained newfound respect for eight-year-olds who tackle these builds solo.

The Art of Dragon Selection

Choosing which dragons to add to a collection—or a child's playroom—requires more strategy than you might expect. The franchise features over 85 distinct dragon species, though only about 20 have received significant toy treatment. This creates interesting dynamics in both play and collecting.

The "core four" dragons—Toothless, Stormfly, Hookfang, and Meatlug—appear in virtually every toy line, but their representations vary wildly. The basic Defenders of Berk figures capture their essence in simplified form, perfect for younger kids who prioritize durability over detail. Meanwhile, the Dragons Race to the Edge series offered more sophisticated versions with additional articulation points and accessories.

But here's where it gets interesting: the secondary dragons often become the most sought-after. Cloudjumper, Valka's Bewilderbeast, and especially the Screaming Death command premium prices on the secondary market. Why? Limited production runs combined with their spectacular on-screen presence create perfect collecting storms.

I've noticed parents often gravitate toward the "safer" choices—another Toothless variant rather than a Skrill or Flightmare. This is understandable but somewhat misses the point. Children's imaginations don't necessarily align with market research. Sometimes that weird, spiky dragon nobody recognizes becomes the centerpiece of elaborate adventures.

Playing Techniques That Actually Matter

Let me share something that took me years to understand: there's a fundamental difference between how adults think toys should be played with and how kids actually play with them. We assume dragon toys should recreate movie scenes. Kids? They're staging diplomatic negotiations between dragons and dinosaurs, or having Toothless open a bakery.

The most successful dragon toy play sessions I've observed share certain characteristics. First, they involve multiple dragons with distinct personalities—not necessarily matching their film counterparts. That Gronckle might become the team's strategic mastermind, while the imposing Nightmare serves as comic relief. Second, the physical space matters more than we think. A simple cardboard box village provides more play value than an expensive playset that dictates specific interactions.

The Hidden World toy line introduced an interesting element: dragons with color-changing features activated by water. Initially, I dismissed this as gimmicky. Then I watched kids incorporate it into elaborate stories about dragons with secret identities, or magical transformations triggered by rainstorms. The feature became a narrative device rather than just a special effect.

Maintenance, Storage, and the Reality of Wear

Nobody talks about what happens to dragon toys after the initial excitement fades, but this is where the real stories emerge. Toothless's tail fin, designed to be poseable, becomes the first casualty in most households. Those sophisticated wing joints that allow for dynamic flying poses? They're usually loose within months of regular play.

Smart collectors and parents have developed workarounds. Clear nail polish applied to loose joints can restore friction without damaging the plastic. Dental floss works surprisingly well for reattaching small parts that weren't meant to be removed but inevitably are. One parent I know created a "dragon hospital" box where damaged figures await repair, turning maintenance into part of the play narrative.

Storage presents its own challenges. Those magnificent wingspans that look so impressive in flight poses become liability in toy boxes. The collector's solution—individual display cases—doesn't work for toys meant to be played with. I've seen creative solutions ranging from ceiling-mounted fishing line "flight formations" to repurposed shoe organizers that give each dragon its own stable.

The Secondary Market Realities

Here's where things get uncomfortable for some collectors: the secondary market for How to Train Your Dragon toys can be brutal. That exclusive Comic-Con Toothless you passed on for $50? It might be $300 now. But more often, people discover their "rare" finds are actually common variants that flooded discount stores.

The real value often lies in complete sets rather than individual pieces. A full collection of Racing Stripes dragons, with all accessories and riders intact, commands far more than the sum of its parts. This creates interesting dynamics at yard sales and thrift stores, where incomplete figures pile up like mismatched socks.

International exclusives add another layer of complexity. The Japanese market received dragons with metallic finishes and additional articulation that never reached Western shores. European releases sometimes featured different paint applications or pack-in accessories. This global variation turns collecting into a worldwide treasure hunt, though shipping costs can quickly exceed the value of the toys themselves.

Building Beyond the Franchise

Perhaps the most interesting development in How to Train Your Dragon toy culture is how it's transcended its source material. Custom builders modify existing figures, creating dragon species that exist only in their imaginations. 3D printing has democratized this process—files for custom dragon parts circulate in maker communities, allowing anyone with access to a printer to expand their collection beyond commercial offerings.

Some builders go further, integrating dragon figures into elaborate dioramas that blend multiple toy lines. I've seen Berk recreated using everything from model train accessories to aquarium decorations. These projects represent hundreds of hours of work, transforming mass-produced toys into unique art pieces.

The crossover potential surprises even seasoned collectors. How to Train Your Dragon figures scale remarkably well with other popular lines. They fit naturally into LEGO builds, complement Schleich animal figures, and even work alongside certain anime figure lines. This compatibility wasn't intentional, but it's created a secondary ecosystem where dragons enhance rather than dominate play scenarios.

The Emotional Investment

We need to talk about something the marketing departments don't mention: the emotional weight these toys carry. They're not just plastic and paint. They're artifacts of childhood, repositories of memories, physical manifestations of stories shared between parents and children.

I know a mother who keeps a battle-damaged Toothless on her desk—not a collector's piece, but her daughter's favorite toy, missing a wing and held together with superglue. It represents hundreds of hours of play, countless bedtime stories, and a phase of childhood that passed too quickly. That broken toy is worth more to her than any mint-in-box exclusive could be.

This emotional dimension affects the market in unexpected ways. Parents often can't bring themselves to sell their children's old dragon toys, even when the kids have long outgrown them. This artificial scarcity drives up prices for common figures, creating a market where nostalgia trumps traditional supply and demand.

Looking Forward

As the franchise evolved through three films and multiple series, the toys adapted alongside. The Hidden World brought bioluminescent dragons and a more mature aesthetic that reflected the films' growing audience. But with the main trilogy concluded, the future of How to Train Your Dragon toys exists in an interesting limbo.

New animated series continue to emerge, each bringing fresh dragon designs and toy opportunities. But the core film characters—especially Toothless—remain the emotional center of most collections. Manufacturers face the challenge of innovating while respecting the established designs that fans love.

The rise of "adult collector" versions suggests one path forward. Higher-end figures with superior articulation and screen-accurate details appeal to the generation that grew up with the franchise. But there's something bittersweet about $200 collector figures of characters originally meant to inspire children's imaginations.

What remains constant is the fundamental appeal: dragons that aren't monsters but friends, toys that encourage empathy alongside adventure. In a media landscape increasingly dominated by conflict and competition, these toys offer something different—creatures powerful enough to rule the skies who choose instead to carry their friends.

Whether you're a parent navigating toy store aisles, a collector hunting rare variants, or someone who just appreciates good design, How to Train Your Dragon toys represent more than commercial success. They're proof that with the right approach, even the most fantastical concepts can find tangible form in ways that enrich rather than merely entertain.

The next time you see a kid zooming a plastic dragon through the air, making whooshing sounds and creating elaborate backstories, remember: they're not just playing with a toy. They're participating in a modern mythology, one where the distance between human and dragon can be bridged by friendship, understanding, and yes, a bit of molded plastic with articulated wings.

Authoritative Sources:

Animation Magazine. "DreamWorks Dragons: The Phenomenon of How to Train Your Dragon Merchandising." Animation Magazine Publications, 2019.

The NPD Group. "Action Figure and Accessories Market Report: Licensed Property Performance 2010-2020." NPD Group Inc., 2021.

Toy Industry Association. "Character Toys and Entertainment Properties: Market Analysis." Toy Industry Association Publications, 2020.

DreamWorks Animation LLC. "How to Train Your Dragon: The Official Character Encyclopedia." DreamWorks Press, 2014.

License Global. "DreamWorks Dragons Retail Performance Analysis." UBM Global Trade, 2018.