When Does a Narcissist Play the Victim and When the Victor?
If you’ve worked with narcissistic clients or studied the dynamics in narcissistic relationships, you’ve probably noticed this odd and compelling pattern: sometimes they come off as the tragic hero, bruised and misunderstood, while at other times they’re the undeniable champion, broadcasting how remarkable and superior they are.
This flip isn’t random.
It’s not mood-driven, either—at least not in the way we usually think about emotion. It’s strategic. Narcissists move between these roles to preserve their fragile sense of self, manage narcissistic supply, and influence how others see them.
Victimhood and victory are both masks, but they serve different audiences and moments.
This is where it gets fascinating—and a little unsettling. When you track the contexts in which they choose each mask, the manipulation becomes clear. And honestly, once you start seeing it, you can’t unsee it.
Let’s unpack the victim mask first—because it’s sneakier, and frankly, more seductive.
When Narcissists Play the Victim
It’s Not Real Vulnerability—It’s Strategy
We often think of vulnerability as something sincere—an honest opening up. But when narcissists play the victim, it’s almost never genuine. It’s a carefully crafted persona designed to redirect blame, garner sympathy, and maintain control without seeming overtly dominant.
Let’s say a client says, “I don’t know why people keep leaving me. I try so hard to be good to them.” On the surface, that sounds like self-reflection. But if you dig even a little deeper, you might find they’ve alienated friends, ignored boundaries, or lashed out emotionally—and now, they’re flipping the story. Their “trying hard” becomes a shield against accountability.
This isn’t just about lying. It’s about reframing the narrative so that they’re always the one who’s been wronged—even when they’ve clearly done the wounding.
What Triggers the Victim Mode?
In my experience, narcissists lean into the victim role when they’re facing a narcissistic injury—a moment when their inflated self-image is punctured. Common triggers include:
- Someone calling out their behavior
- A relationship ending that they didn’t control
- A public failure or loss of status
- Getting outshined or ignored
Imagine a workplace scenario. A narcissistic manager is passed over for a promotion. They don’t say, “I guess I didn’t have the right experience.” Instead, it’s: “The leadership clearly has it out for me. I’ve been sabotaged.” That’s victim mode activated.
It’s not just self-soothing—it’s a preemptive strike. By becoming the victim, they’re painting anyone who challenges them as a bully. It’s manipulative, yes—but also alarmingly effective.
How the Victim Persona Works Interpersonally
What really fascinates me about narcissistic victimhood is how convincing it can be. The emotional tone is right. There’s pain in the eyes, tremble in the voice. They might even cry. But the substance is hollow.
There’s always a sense of performance to it—the emotions are real, but the context is skewed. I’ve had clients describe intense sorrow about being “betrayed” by a partner, only to later reveal they’d been cheating for months. They weren’t mourning the relationship—they were mourning the loss of control, the exposure.
This persona often works especially well with empaths, therapists, and anyone wired to rescue. And when that sympathy flows in, it becomes fuel. Suddenly, they’re not the one who hurt someone—they’re the misunderstood soul, unjustly abandoned. The story gets rewritten.
Examples in Relationships
In narcissistic relationships, especially romantic ones, the victim mask is everywhere. Take the classic devaluation-discard cycle. When a narcissist has worn out their partner and that partner finally detaches, what happens?
They become the martyr.
- “I gave everything to them.”
- “They never appreciated me.”
- “I’m always the one who gets left.”
Conveniently forgotten? The emotional abuse, gaslighting, or manipulation that preceded the split. In this framing, the narcissist gets to skip the guilt and retain moral superiority, all while fishing for sympathy from friends, family—or a new source of supply.
Victimhood in Therapy
This is where it gets really tricky for those of us in clinical settings. Narcissists often enter therapy in victim mode. They’re there because of a “toxic ex,” “incompetent coworkers,” or “jealous relatives.” They’ll pour their heart out, and it’s tempting to believe them. I’ve been there.
But over time, you start seeing the pattern: they’re always the one being wronged. And when you start to challenge their narrative—ask questions, suggest alternative interpretations—they may either push back hard or drop out entirely.
That shift from charming, wounded client to defensive or cold is a red flag. It signals that the victim role isn’t sustainable in a space where accountability is gently but consistently introduced.
Why This Role Is So Effective
Let’s be honest—it works. Playing the victim protects them from consequences and opens the door to renewed narcissistic supply. Sympathy, attention, reassurance—these are as powerful as admiration in feeding the narcissistic ego.
And culturally, we reward victimhood in strange ways. A person who suffers publicly is often seen as brave, even when their suffering is self-inflicted or manipulated. Narcissists exploit this. They understand, maybe more intuitively than we’d like to admit, that pain can be power—especially if it’s performative and directed at the right audience.
When we look closely, it becomes clear that narcissistic victimhood isn’t vulnerability at all—it’s a survival tactic. It helps them regain control when they’ve lost face and throws others off the scent of the real dynamics at play.
Next, we’ll look at the flip side: when narcissists aren’t licking their wounds, but wielding their victories like a sword.
When Narcissists Need to Win
There’s something intoxicating about watching a narcissist in full-blown victor mode. They dominate a room, command attention, and radiate a sense of untouchable success. At first glance, it can seem like confidence—magnetic, maybe even admirable. But when you look more closely, you realize it’s something entirely different.
This isn’t just about feeling good about themselves. It’s about proving superiority, crafting an identity that’s not just impressive but unchallengeable. Narcissists don’t just want to win—they need to win. And not in a healthy “growth mindset” kind of way. Their entire self-worth is tied to being perceived as the best, the brightest, the most envied.
Let’s break down what this looks like and how it operates under the surface.
What Winning Looks Like to a Narcissist
This is where things get performative. You’ll notice certain themes over and over again—status, admiration, and dominance. Here’s how that shows up:
Entitlement on Full Display
They believe they deserve more—more praise, more respect, more access. I once worked with a CEO who genuinely believed company rules didn’t apply to him because “they’re for people who need structure.” That wasn’t an exaggeration. He saw himself as exceptional, and that view insulated him from accountability.
Dominating Social Dynamics
Narcissists aren’t just content with being liked—they need to be more impressive than everyone else in the room. They’ll interrupt, talk over others, or casually undermine people they feel threatened by. It’s less about connection, more about hierarchy.
Curated Success
Ever see someone turn a single compliment into an entire monologue about their accomplishments? That’s textbook victor mode. They cherry-pick stories, exaggerate wins, and create a “success narrative” that others are supposed to admire—and envy.
Zero Tolerance for Criticism
Here’s where it gets tense. The moment you question them—or even lightly push back—they might lash out, withdraw, or subtly punish you. The reason? Criticism threatens the whole illusion. It pokes holes in the very identity they’re working so hard to project.
People as Props
Other people often become supporting characters in their “I’m amazing” story. They might brag about the people who admire them, the exclusive events they’ve attended, or the celebrities they’ve met. These aren’t genuine connections—they’re social trophies.
Why They Do It
The short answer? Shame.
Under all that confidence is often a deep, unprocessed shame. The grandiosity isn’t just a cover—it’s armor. If they’re always winning, they never have to confront feelings of inadequacy. It’s a form of emotional avoidance that gets externalized through domination and spectacle.
Think about a client who can’t stop talking about their luxury lifestyle but melts down when you ask how they feel about being alone. That’s the core: external brilliance covering internal void.
In Therapy: The Trickiest Persona to Work With
This is the mode that often scares therapists away. Narcissists in victor mode are less relatable, more dismissive, and often resistant to any kind of emotional work.
You might hear:
- “I don’t need therapy, I just want someone to talk to who gets it.”
- “Honestly, most people are too basic to understand me.”
- “My last therapist just wasn’t smart enough.”
These aren’t just ego slips—they’re red flags for how rigid and defended this persona is. And if you challenge it too quickly? You might trigger a complete therapeutic rupture.
But when you engage with curiosity instead of confrontation, you can sometimes find the cracks. That overconfidence is often brittle. There’s usually a moment—after a relationship crumbles, a business fails, or public recognition fades—when the mask slips. And if you’re there, ready, and grounded? That’s when real work can begin.
How They Switch Between Victim and Victor
This is where things get even more complex. Narcissists don’t just live in one persona—they move between them, often seamlessly, depending on what the moment requires. And this adaptability? It’s not flexibility. It’s manipulation.
Let’s unpack how and why they shift.
It’s About Control, Not Mood
Some people assume narcissists flip from victim to victor because of emotional instability or mood swings. But in many cases, the switch is tactical. They don’t lose control—they adjust it to the audience and the situation.
Here’s what I’ve noticed again and again:
- Around authority figures or potential sources of admiration? Victor mode.
They need to impress, dominate, and be seen as the best in the room. - Around people they’ve hurt, or when facing consequences? Victim mode.
Sympathy deflects blame. It can also reel people back in. - When they’ve failed? Start in victim mode (“I was sabotaged”), then pivot to victor mode (“I’m still doing better than anyone else”).
They’re not being inconsistent. They’re managing perception.
A Conversation Can Contain Both Modes
One of the most disorienting things about narcissists is that they’ll switch personas mid-conversation, especially if they feel cornered.
Let me give you a quick example.
A former client started a session bragging about how he was “crushing it” at work. Ten minutes later, when I asked about his recent divorce, he shifted gears instantly:
“No one understands how much I gave to that relationship. I was the one holding it all together.”
There it was: Victor to victim in seconds.
He wanted admiration for his success and sympathy for his pain. And any challenge to either narrative was met with subtle defensiveness or, sometimes, outright anger.
Why It Works
These persona flips are disarming. For people who aren’t trained in narcissistic dynamics, it creates confusion and empathy fatigue.
Partners start questioning themselves: “Maybe I was too hard on them. They do seem hurt.”
Colleagues get manipulated: “They made a mistake, but wow, they’re under so much pressure.”
Therapists feel stuck: “They seemed open last week—why are they suddenly so hostile?”
That inconsistency is the trap. It keeps people on edge, always adjusting, always second-guessing. And for narcissists, that’s the point. It prevents others from establishing a stable narrative—which means they get to keep control.
Switching as a Form of Supply Optimization
Here’s something I believe we don’t talk about enough: narcissists optimize for supply. They’re constantly scanning for which identity—victim or victor—will yield the best return in any given moment.
- Want sympathy? Victim.
- Want applause? Victor.
- Want to silence criticism? Victim.
- Want to secure authority? Victor.
And when both aren’t working? That’s when they escalate—rage, withdraw, or find a new audience.
Understanding this supply-based motivation helps us detach from the emotional content and look at the function. It stops us from getting seduced by the performance and keeps us grounded in the dynamic.
Final Thoughts
Working with narcissists—or just surviving them—means being able to see through the switch. Victim mode and victor mode are just different faces of the same wound: a desperate need to be seen, validated, and untouchable.
But when we can recognize the tactics, we stop dancing to the beat of their narrative. We stay present. We stay clear. And maybe, if the stars align, we help them confront what lies underneath the mask—not just manage what they wear on the surface.
And honestly?
That’s the work that matters most.
