Companions in RPGs — Why It's Important to Create Cool NPCs in Role-Playing Games

RPG is one of the most complex and intricate genres in video games. To make a project successful, many mechanics need to be thought out and anticipated, but the most important are the story and the player's role in it. How well one can immerse themselves in the protagonist's role is what distinguishes great RPGs from mediocre ones. Companions play a special role in this process. The protagonist's surroundings greatly contribute to immersion in the world created by the developers. Unfortunately, modern role-playing projects sometimes have issues with this. Two of our authors, Dmitry Pyatakhin and Dominika Putyrskaya, decided to prepare a special article and reflect from both male and female perspectives on the importance of companions and the development of relationships with them in modern RPGs.

Your humble servant has played more than just one or two RPGs in his life and also enjoys creating and leading games in Dungeons & Dragons. Experience as a game master in this matter is only a plus, so I would like to look at the stated issue from several angles.

Let's recall who has played which RPGs? The Baldur's Gate series, perhaps Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic, Mass Effect, Dragon Age, or Cyberpunk 2077 and The Witcher? The list is actually even longer. All these games are about very different worlds and events, but they are united by one thing — role-playing. It doesn't matter if you create a nameless character from scratch or control an already established one, the main thing is to have the opportunity to add as much of yourself, your personal opinions, beliefs, and decisions into their responses and actions. The breadth of these possibilities in specific situations is what sets RPGs apart for ages from the mundane.

We also dive into games for experiences. Killing a huge dragon, shooting a crowd of mutants, or saving an entire world — these are things that none of us will experience in reality, yet can easily achieve in the realm of interactive entertainment. Much of these experiences are complemented by the surroundings. And here I mean a complex system — characters, world-building, interactions, atmosphere. Without these components, the most fantastic game will quickly fade from memory. That's why the role of a scriptwriter and narrative designer in the production process of a specific project is much more important than many might think. After all, these people are responsible not for something tangible, like the quality of graphics, but for the ephemeral impressions and feelings of future players.

In the context of D&D, these theses work even better. The Dungeon Master is responsible for all NPCs, and it's entirely up to them how vivid and engaging the characters surrounding the adventurer party will be. Social interactions are generally the most challenging part of any Dungeons & Dragons campaign, requiring serious preparation. Of course, you can do without it. Just throw the players into a four-room dungeon and watch them spend five hours killing goblins. But that's not as fun, is it?

If the task is done correctly and with heart, social interaction scenes become memorable and will be discussed long after. The pinnacle for a Dungeon Master is when the real players want to include fictional heroes in their party or begin to genuinely care about them. That's when you can confidently say — people not only came to play a tabletop game but also started living within the framework of your imaginary world. Victory.

Having outlined all this, I would like to finally move on to the companions themselves. Your companions in the adventure are the junction of that very role-playing and impressions. They lived their lives before you, have personal experiences and beliefs, and are simply obliged to react to every decision made and reflect on the events happening. The more diverse and interesting they are, the better they will be remembered by gamers, but at the same time, they will provide more situations to express one's own self. It may sound too loud, but making good companions in an RPG is half the success of the entire project as a whole. People may forget about bad graphics and boring battles, but, for example, the amusingly swearing Zoltan Chivay from The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt is still remembered.

There are many interactions with companions, and they all, it seems to me, can be conditionally divided into two large groups. The first is situational. A vivid example here would be the projects of CD Projekt RED. The player is most often one-on-one with the main character, but in most quests intersects with one or another character. Some of them become regular participants in events, others appear from time to time. Each such meeting and dialogue is an opportunity to develop communication, achieve closeness, or learn something new about the companion. That is why there are entire guides on dialogues with Johnny Silverhand or Ciri, as each of them is an important event where any phrase changes everything.

The second group is everyday interactions. Here, the king is, of course, Baldur's Gate 3. All the "party members" are ready to chat endlessly about any convenient and not-so-convenient occasion. Sometimes they even butt into a dialogue when you didn't ask. Of course, there will still be a group with which the main character spends more time than with the others, but, firstly, the choice of this group is entirely the player's decision, and secondly, the hero is never alone under any circumstances. Here, not every conversation radically changes the picture, but you feel much more life in each of the characters. They can be concerned not only with the global problem but also with many other everyday things.

Somewhere in between are games like Dragon Age and Mass Effect. In these games, communication with companions is divided into segments. During combat missions, the protagonist's colleagues aren't very talkative, but they can still react to key moments. However, during breaks between excursions, they are ready to discuss what happened for hours. It is during these times that you form relationships, argue, reconcile, and flirt.

Why is all this important? As I mentioned above, companions help the player immerse themselves in the role and experience more realistic and not-so-realistic impressions. Reconciling the sharp-tongued Morrigan and the ever-righteous Alistair is quite a task. Helping Gale avoid detonating a magical bomb inside himself is a noble goal that any therapist would envy. And as for the relationship between Geralt and Yennefer — that's a test for the most resilient.

Speaking of relationships. Developing romantic connections is a separate big topic. Many wonder why this is even necessary in a game, as success with a character like Shadowheart won't guarantee success with a girl in real life. Some might say the interest lies only in interacting with a beautiful elf or witch, but I think the reason is more complex and deeper. The thing is, each companion usually possesses a distinct trait or a whole set of character traits. In psychology, this is called an archetype, and this concept fully flourishes in RPGs. For example, Morrigan is sarcastic but wise, Liara is intelligent and brave, Shadowheart is secretive but also very sensitive, and all the others follow suit. In the process of finding an approach to a liked character, the gamer inadvertently works through communication scenarios. The brain doesn't care where you meet, it gains experience in any case.

The same applies to communication in general. In a single game, you can sometimes go through as many relationship developments as you might not experience in real life in a year. A person unconsciously learns which phrases and responses work better with certain people and which don't, where to show tact and diplomacy, and where, on the contrary, to be assertive. This is a valuable skill that is difficult to safely practice elsewhere.

And since we've figured out why companions and interactions with them are so important, I'd like to say a few words about the reasons for the degradation of this entire system. Yes, we recently had the magnificent Baldur's Gate 3, where everything is great, but Dragon Age: The Veilguard makes us worry about the future of action/RPGs.

In the latest Dragon Age, the developers have minimized all communication. You can't offend anyone or lose a companion during the playthrough due to a controversial decision. None of the characters have hidden motives or a "second layer" that you need to uncover through regular friendship development. All the player can do is listen to the lines and politely maintain the conversation. Even personal quests can't be completed in a way that significantly changes the characters of your companions. It's worth mentioning that such an approach in the RPG genre is very bad. If Morrigan and Leliana from the first part are still remembered and loved, then from Dragon Age: The Veilguard, you are unlikely to even recall anyone by name.

I think the blame lies with the notorious modern trends, where today's progressive society favors "all-encompassing non-toxicity." The developers were so eager not to offend anyone that they ended up forgetting the most important thing — individuality. People, including representatives of fictional races, should be different and unique. Just like in life. They have cultural contradictions, different views, and all that makes them real. This is normal. The player's task is not to be "convenient" for everyone but to try to build connections to find a compromise. And this is precisely what RPGs should strive for.

It's hard to say what awaits us in the future, but I sincerely hope that the success of Baldur's Gate 3 and the failure of Dragon Age: The Veilguard will provide developers and publishers with an understanding of which approaches truly resonate with gamers and which ones only spoil great projects.

Video games, especially RPGs, become not just entertainment for us, but an entire world where we can not only slay dragons or save the world, but also experience emotions, feelings, and relationships. Role-playing games are an immersion into characters, their motives, and inner psychology, where it's important not only how you fight or what you choose, but also how you interact with them, experiencing emotions that sometimes become important catalysts in the development of your character and your personality.

Particular attention should be paid to the choice of companions — because in most games, they are not just companions on your journey, but potential sources of experiences, emotions, and even relationship development. Often, they become a mirror for us, reflecting our weaknesses, aspirations, ideals, and even fantasies. In my section, I want to explore why, as a woman, the dynamics of relationships in games are so important to me, and how the choice of companions can reflect my perception of myself and what I seek in a partner — real or virtual.

To begin with, it is worth clarifying that when we talk about choosing characters who "carry" us, it does not mean we are looking for an ideal or a hero who succeeds at everything on the first try. It's about feeling in the game as the person with whom you are comfortable interacting, who creates a sense of supportive and reliable connection. In games, as in life, context is important, and in the context of RPGs, the environment is crucial. Companions are not just secondary characters; they are those who help shape the overall experience.

Let's take, for example, my preference in Baldur's Gate 3. One name: Gale. And the reason is not that he is perfect, tragic, or epic. Rather, he is a character who gives me a sense of stability and security, and I, like any woman, want to feel supported without having my emotions wrung out through tears and turmoil. I don't like emotional rollercoasters. If I wanted to worry about every rise and fall, as happens with Astarion, I would probably have to take a couple of steps back and reconsider my views on what "emotional burden" means. I seek stability and a sense of being understood in relationships. Gale provides that — he not only understands but is ready to support and care without throwing me into uncertainty. I want to be cherished, and our wizard gives me that feeling.

A similar approach can be seen with Alistair from Dragon Age: Origins. He is a different type of support, but no less important. Alistair is also not perfect, but his sincerity and slightly naive desire to do the right thing, despite failures, remind me of how important honesty and straightforwardness are in relationships. He is not someone who will do everything for me, but someone who won't let me fall alone. His moral strength lies precisely in the fact that he is genuine. Alistair doesn't hide his weaknesses, and that makes him incredibly attractive. When I, a woman, play as a woman, and such a character is before me, I feel that this stability and honesty become my support.

Now it's time to move on to archetypes, my favorite concept of understanding images that play a central role in role-playing games. After all, we play not only for the story but also for the interactions that help us experience the full spectrum of human emotions. It is the archetypes of companions that influence how we perceive not only the world around us but also ourselves in the context of what is happening on the screen.

When I talk about archetypes, I refer to the concept of Carl Gustav Jung, the great Swiss psychologist who first realized and systematized archetypes as universal images and models inherent to all humanity, as well as the works of James Hillman, Joseph John Campbell, Carol S. Pearson, Margaret Mark, and others. Unlike conscious patterns of behavior or attitudes, archetypes pertain to the unconscious part of our personality. They are not something we consciously teach ourselves, but rather what is formed at a deep level — the level of our instincts, emotions, and behavioral patterns.

Archetypes are not tied to a specific culture or era. We encounter them in myths, legends, religious teachings, as well as in literature, cinema, and, of course, video games. All these archetypes have common traits that attract us regardless of context. For example, when I choose Gale in Baldur's Gate 3, I don't choose him just because he is a wizard with a tragic story. I choose him because he combines the archetypes of the "hero" and the "sage," the archetypes of care and protection. He is someone who is ready to lend a shoulder and help at any moment, regardless of the circumstances. This depiction of a strong yet vulnerable character resonates deeply with me because it reminds me of the personal archetypes I work with within myself.

Now imagine that we are not just interacting with these archetypes through their images in games. We begin to experience them on a personal level, as if we have been playing with them throughout our lives. This is a perfect metaphor for how we begin to work with themes like the "hero," the "sage," the "shadow," or the "child," because these images hold deep meaning within each of us.

Let's consider the "hero" archetype. It is one of the most universal and key archetypes because within each of us lies the desire to manifest our strength, overcome difficulties, and strive for victory. In different cultures and traditions, this archetype can take various forms — from a warrior to a world savior. In the context of Dragon Age: Origins, Alistair, with his sincerity and moral purity, embodies this archetype. He is not just a hero; he is a "hero" with traits of the "innocent," who ideally does not seek profit or glory. His moral foundation is as important as his actions. Alistair, in his honesty, represents the very archetype we seek in real life — an honest person capable of protecting and supporting.

The "hero" archetype is always the energy of the masculine principle, but it does not always manifest in the way traditional stereotypes suggest. It manifests as strength, but also as a willingness to take responsibility, protect those we love, and be a moral compass. This, in turn, raises an interesting dynamic — when we play as a woman and choose such a hero, we, to some extent, assume his masculine role. This process within us is not just identification with the character but even transformation. We can momentarily become such heroes without losing our identity.

As for female archetypes, there are several important points to note. A woman, as an archetype, is not always a "wife" or "mother." Ideally, archetypes are gender-neutral models, although culture often limits them as such. A woman in a video game can be an archetype of the "sage," like Morrigan from Dragon Age: Origins, or the "ruler" archetype — Sylvanas Windrunner from World of Warcraft (as seen in the expansions Legion and Battle for Azeroth). These archetypes also intertwine, and even when playing a male character, we can associate ourselves with them, confirming the deep psychological universality of these models.

What I like about archetypes is their ability to be flexible. Each of them can evoke different emotions and relationships depending on how open we are to them internally. How we perceive an archetype depends on our psycho-emotional state and life conditions. When we turn to archetypes, we often see how game characters can become a mirror reflecting our hidden desires, fears, and internal conflicts.

One of the most interesting and psychologically rich archetypes is the "shadow." These are the traits we deny in ourselves, which seem foreign or uncomfortable to us. For example, by choosing Astarion in Baldur's Gate 3, many players may encounter a "darker" side of themselves. Astarion is the archetype of the "trickster" with elements of the "shadow": he is cunning, manipulative, and has his dark side. Yet, somehow this character attracts us. Perhaps because we see in him the part we often suppress: the thirst for power, manipulation, the pleasure of playing on emotions.

When we choose such characters, we may not only be playing with their images but also confronting our own shadows. By including the "shadow" in our interaction, we become more whole, gaining greater awareness of ourselves and our inner world.

Each companion, each character, is not just a set of characteristics but an opportunity to encounter a certain part of our inner world. Through them, we not only experience the fates of others but also learn to interact with those parts of ourselves that may not have been fully realized or accepted yet.

I have detailed all this to make it clear that games can be a profound process of self-discovery, where every choice of companion, every encounter with archetypes helps us become better, more clearly understanding who we are, what we are, and what we want in the context of not only the original character but also the personality of the person on this, the real side of the monitor. And therefore, of course, projects should be chosen wisely.

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These are the thoughts we wanted to share. What do you think about the topic? Share your opinions in the comments.