Exchange of Realities

They told you it could not be done. That the PCs must be the complete focus of the story, that those more powerful than they who would otherwise be on their side should be distant and uninterested. They told you that party escorts must be interchangeable hirelings, that an NPC could never be at the center of a story except as rescuebait, that to break these rules would forever stick your characters with the Four Scarlet Letters: D, M, P and C.

But they were wrong.

It’s harder, of course; would they call it impossible if it were easy? Factors must be carefully balanced, and everyone’s watching for slips. Worst, we have to show them but not show them, make our work visible but not draw attention to it.

For that is what the powerful ally must be: present but not in too much competition, impressive but not threatening to the delicate PC ego.

First off, the NPCs are here for a reason. Knowing that reason is vital. “You’re out to save the world/settle a score/find yourself a few shinies? Sweet! So am I!” isn’t going to be enough. (Particularly if the objective is finding a few shinies, as more people means more division of treasure. I don’t think the increased NPC escort tolerance of my non-D&D or D&D with arbitrary experience groups over the by-RAW D&D groups is coincidence.) The group ally needs one of two things: a way to ensure a connection with the PCs within a few sessions, or skills that the PCs desperately need and will make a point of looking for.

The connection is an oft-underused but powerful tool. As I pointed out when discussing mentors, a player who is partially involved in the creation of an NPC, who acquires an attachment to said NPC, or for whose benefit the NPC was created will often acquire a semi-possessive attitude towards that one; she is “his” NPC, and her glory is reflected as his. I have actually had players come up and tell me that NPCs falling into those categories weren’t awesome enough.

The biggest problem with powerful characters is keeping them both powerful and off their teammates’ toes. Yes, you can get away with a lot by coming up with in-character reasons for them not to use their full strength, but at some point they’re going to need to go to their full potential: the situation’s desperate, or the group’s wondering if they’re really good enough to haul along, or something. Besides, you know you want to.

So how do we let them stretch their skills without triggering the DMPC gripe? We remember the spotlight issue, and we plan for it by making their areas of expertise things that the PCs aren’t much good in or don’t really care much about. Moreover—this is important—they don’t immediately start bragging about their successes. Bringing a PC back from death’s door, or having information from the other side of three or four lines of scouts, should speak for itself. Now, this doesn’t mean ensure that there are situations that allow no solution but the NPC’s skills; that’s too much like a deliberate showcase. If they need help, they’ll ask.

If their skills parallel the PCs’, the balancing act is trickier. I recommend an offstage or split-screen approach. The NPC who excels in group fights might stall the small fish while the group itself chases after someone more individually dangerous, or somewhat might vanish on an errand that the group couldn’t do without being in two places at once and come back smug and full of stories. (Which, again, they only allude to at best unless asked for them.)

Most importantly, do not force their presence. The optimal escort NPC is along because the group chose her and not because the GM saddled them with her. If they don’t want to keep her around, that’s their prerogative; don’t punish them for it.

Remember, the biggest sign of a DMPC is the aura of Look—Cooler/More Important Than You. Avoid that, and you need not fear the scarlet letters.