Sure, Hollywood gives Oscars for best supporting actor. But everybody knows that the starring role is where it's really at. And when was the last time you found a secondary character in a novel more memorable than the protagonist or chief villain? We naturally identify with primary characters, so practiced authors make them the most vivid. In part, this fixation on stars is just the way we are hard-wired: we each play the lead role in our own life's saga, so it's only natural for our player characters to each want the spotlight when role-play.

But in role-playing sessions, PCs are almost always called upon to function as a team at least if they want to survive. Fortunately, we can have the best of both worlds, if we are careful. We can play cooperatively, while still allowing a bit of the self-glorifying weasel in our characters. The trick is knowing how much is enough, and how much is too much.

Here's a tip. If you're playing a weasel and you're the only one having fun, it's too much. All too often, inexperienced or selfish players get their jollies from wreaking havoc with a campaign, and all they accomplish is to make themselves a pariah.

It's a special temptation for thief characters, who frequently feel the need to put one over on those cocky fighters and self-important mages by lifting some item from them. As discussed in last month's column, that sort of action is potentially destructive, because players of the victims are likely to feel personally violated. But if the resulting conflict is role played seriously, it can add depth to a campaign, facing the PCs with a choice between breaking up or apologizing and forgiving, thereby forging deeper bonds of friendship.

Of course, while it is natural for thieves to bring conflict to a party, there is nothing preventing other characters from generating their own dramatic tension.

I am reminded of the merchant's son played in a campaign long ago. My buddy Jim put a lot of background thought into the character from the beginning. He had decided that Markus was the son of a merchant from across the sea, and just before the campaign's start, he had been sent on his first trade voyage in command of one of his father's ships, but the, crew had mutinied and stolen cargo, ship, and all, leaving the young man adrift in a dinghy. Now his major goals in life were to earn enough money to make up for the cargo he had lost and, if possible, to find and punish his wayward crew.

That history lent the character a lot personality. But it didn't stop there. Once the campaign started, Jim decided that his character had a distinct dislike for mine. I was playing Jaston Mikelson, a stolid, unirnaginative warrior whose sense of duty had earned him a captaincy in the city guard, but who wasn't bright enough to go any higher. Jim didn't tell me that Markus despised Jaston; only the GM was in on the secret.

War boomerangs are powerful arms in TFT, especially when used by someone possessing the Missile Weapons talent, as Jim's merchant did. But Jim is legendary for his poor luck when rolling dice.*

* Once, in another campaign, when our group had infiltrated a villain's fortress by hiring on as guards, Jim's PC and another had worked out a wonderful plan to get through a guarded door. Jim had been assigned to guard the door with an NPC, and he stood polishing his sword so that it would be right at hand when his companion showed up to help take out the NPC guard. The other PC came wandering by, pretending to be drunk, and when the NPC stepped forward to challenge him, Jim's character struck at the poor guard from behind. But in a once-in-a-lifetime series of worst-possible die rolls, he not only missed the guy, he hit his fellow PC instead ... for maximum damage ...and broke his sword off in his buddy's ribs... thereby killing his compatriot and disarming himself all at once!

Frequently then, when Jaston was involved in combat with an enemy - typically outnumbered, because he had a tendency to rush in without thinking - a boomerang would come flying past him unexpectedly and strike his foe. Time after time after combat Jaston would pat his merchant friend on the back and praise him soundly for his help.

It wasn't until the campaign's end, when our party members were all being rewarded by some great king for all the good they had done that I learned that Markus had been trying all along to hit my character and had simply failed his roll each time, accidentally striking Jaston's foes instead. As my guardsman solemnly accepted his reward from the king, I noticed Jim becoming increasingly agitated, and when Markus's turn to be lauded came, he laid his head on the table and sobbed in character, "I've been trying to kill you the whole time, but you just wouldn't die!"

I was stunned at the revelation, the more so given that I was very much into the mindset of my rather thick-witted PC. But also, keeping in character, I rested a hand on Jim's shoulder, saying as fervently solemnly as possible, "Now that you see the error of your ways, how can I do anything but forgive you?"

For me, it was the the best way to rub it in.

Sure, a lot of the reason the campaign is memorable to me is the comical nature of Markus's failed attempts at treason. But in the process, he character became unforgettable. He stands out in my memory as an individual personality, and to be honest, he is probably the persona only reason I remember my own character Jaston, an otherwise completely forgettable figure.

What made the conflict work, of course, was the depth of friendship between Jim and me. Even though his character had been attempting to betray mine, I remained confident of Jim's amity toward me. And it was his confidence of my affection toward him that made him feel free to take a chance with the characters. The end result was an intensely gratifying role-playing experience. I highly recommend such treachery between true friends.