Rogue Trader Crew/Ship Quirks Table v.

98
1 The gunnery crews have formed tribes and totemic cults around their guns
2 A death cult meets in cargo bay 13, thursdays at 7p for refreshments and ritual sacrifice
3 There is a makeshift bar between decks 144 & 145 where, by custom, no one holds rank
The primary currency on ship are used adamantine bolts, which the enginseer's mark as lawfully
4 removed (so as to discourage the scrounging of new bolts from the hull). The removal of a bolt by a
non-enginseer or the forgery of an enginseer's mark is punished by spacing.
From somewhere deep within the ship Ork raiding parties occasionally emerge to claim supplies.
5
Deck 56 was sealed centuries ago, though no one remembers why. Ancient security devices have held
6
off all attempts of entry.
Centuries ago one of the cargo holds was claimed by a noble family. They have established an estate
7
there and don't want to leave.
The ship stores press ganged crew in cryogenic storage containers until needed. Due to a problem with
the ancient system, they often wake up groggy and with mild amnesia. Their thawing is treated as a
birth by the existing crew, who celebrate their "birth" and assign them to a new family. Between social
8
pressures, heavy stigmatization of discussing past lives, and the amnesia, most forget their past lives
and consider their "birth" to be when they were de-thawed.

The crew have an extemely dangerous right of passage to manhood that they expect their captain to
undertake, though most don't. Though several captains have tried to quash the tradition, none have
9
succeeded. Those that pass the trial find a fanatically loyal crew that is as loyal to them as mother to
her child.
The ship has no working vox, but instead a series of brass pipes they can yell into with relay stations
interspersed throughout. The position of Relay Speaker has become a fiercely religious position, only
passed on to the best candidate after years of tutelage, and are seen as a type of prophet by the crew.
10 After all, they are almost literally the Voice of the Captain, who is in turn the Voice of the Emperor on
the ship, thus they speak with the voice of God. Between endpoints they speak in a heavily coded,
extremely compact, almost indecipherable private language, only translating back into gothic at the
endpoints.
The position of Press Ganger has become highly prestigious and religious. Youths must strive for years
to be accepted into the Cult of the Press. When released into an unsuspecting port they go forth with
11
hoods in black leather ceremonial outfits, each with a silver stun-baton. Their membership is secretive,
but they bring back exceptionally good candidates for the crew.
The Captains of the ship have received "visions" about the state of the ship in his private suite warning
him of calamities. The Enginseers have speculated it may be a powerful composite machine spirit, an
12
emergent, amalgam of the systems and machine spirits of the ship, attempting to protect itself and its
crew.
The machine spirit of the ship has gone a bit funny. It seems to have developed a crush on the captain.
The command crew have found that if they pretend there is a rival lover on enemy ships, their own ship
reacts more quickly and aggressively. Though there have been a few unfortunate incidents with the
13
captains paramours on the ship, he has learn to just keep that sort of thing planet side. The crew has
also become very careful about making any remarks about the captain, good or ill, lest the ship take it
the wrong way.
A strange order of monks was been founded on the ship, centuries ago. The Silent Ones sometimes
14 parade through main decks and when they do all activity ceases. Still, they are good for morale.

Animals are primary means of transport around you ship. Your crew is seldom hungry, but the stench…
15
Deck 107 has a Carnifex. Just one. It kills anything that tries to hunt it. The deck has been sealed off.
16 The ratings call it Frank. It's not all bad, though. If the ship is ever boarded, we direct the raiders to
deck 107 and let Frank do the rest.
 Rogue Trader Crew/Ship Quirks Table v.98
The Enginseer Prime found a piece of Archeotech in a chamber near the engine. It creates food from
molecular refuse. The crew is sure it is archeotech. He turned it into an All You Can Eat restaurant.
17
Problem is the Explorators on station won't leave until it really is all they can eat. Too damn literal if you
ask me.
Two of the lower decks have been entirely converted to pasture and crop land, with solar lighting. There
are about 400 crew members whose only job is farming. They have vicious guard dogs descended
18 from australian shepherd stock: small, energetic, and fast, but hairless and with razor sharp teeth. But
rather than protecting from wolves or other predators, their main job is to guard against rating raids.

The vast majority of the crew (almost everyone below the officer decks) has no concept that the outside
world exists, treating the officers of the ship as gods and holy messengers. They do what they are told,
19 and do it well, and all they just assume any damage the ship takes is punishment from the gods for not
performing their rites well enough. Boarding actions are seen as demonic incursions.

Due to a warp incursion causing some sort of infection on the lower decks, everything below the
command decks was locked down. The order was never rescinded. Worse, the vox system broke, and
can now only transmit one way: from the command deck down. It's been 75 years since any contact
has been had with any decks below the officers decks. They had several hydroponics bays, and fresh
20 supplies and water are occasionally sent down. Presumably they breed enough to keep things
functional. The captain sends down orders, they are followed. The ship operates. Damage gets
repaired, guns are fired. The ship works. But the officers have nightmares about what they will find if
they ever open up the airlocks and see what has become of the majority of their crew.

One bay of gun crews have adopted a VERY monastic approach life style. The days are spent in silent
contimplation and meditaion and chants to the emperor. they also have taken an almost religious
21 approach to cleanliness to the point that their spaces are sparkling clean. Most of the rest of the gun
crews would just mark it off as fanatic religious Emperor worship...but in the last couple of engagments
the gun crews have hit with every shot.....
The ships murder servitors are ancient artifacts from the Dark Age of Humanity, black nautilus like
abominations of death. No one has the ability to control them anymore, nor have they since before the
birth of the Imperium. They can only be shot in the right direction before being activated, where they will
vent their fury on everything in sight. After a set period of time their hibernation protocols will activate
and they will return to their storage chutes. Unfortunately, they have a glitch in their programming. They
22
will randomly activate, only for a fraction of a second, but that is more than long enough for them to kill
anyone within reach (about two metres). This usually occurs once or twice a month. A mechanus death
cult has cropped up around them. Those taken by them are said to be chosen of the Omnissah, and
have been brought into his presence by his most holy of creations.

The crew believe that eating the flesh of an enemy will give you his power. While this is very useful
23 against boarding parties, it leaves the unfortunate necessity of the captain being obligated to eat the
heart of especially strong foes.
24 There is a worrying prevalence of psychic mutation in the crew.
An ancient saying on the ship is, "The ship is a gentlemen, and a gentlemen prefers blondes." This
actually reflects two superstitions on the ship. First, that it is not a feminine entity, as most ships are,
but a masculine one, and a refined gentleman at that. Secondly, that the ship takes special care of the
25
blond female crew. As a result, a large portion of the female population of the ship bleaches their hair
blond, and blond's tend to be chosen for most particularly dangerous or important tasks.

A significant portion of the crew have been taken over by a very frustrated genestealer cult, as the ship
keeps moving around and the Skymother can't catch it. After centuries of frustration and waiting (and
dozens of warp incursions), the genestealer cult eventually fixates upon the ship itself being the
26
Skymother. While they don't necessarily follow orders, they at least leave the rest of the crew alone and
are fanatically protective of the ship. Boarding parties haven't been a serious threat in years.
 Rogue Trader Crew/Ship Quirks Table v.98
The ship has become carnivorous. If three humans aren't fed to the plasma reactor each week, it
begins to turn on the crew looking for a meal. As long as it's fed, it is an otherwise superb ship. A
reliquary of the Dark age of Technology, there has been speculation of warp corruption, but the
27 AdMech (not to mention the captain) is unwilling to abandon such a useful and holy artifact as long as it
is so easily controllable. This being the Imperium, of course a death cult has grown up around it.
Happily, this means sacrificing crew members actually HELPS morale instead of hurting it.

There's a small native population of Jokaero living on board, who are constantly fiddling with things and
creating marvelously effective devices and additions for tasks that nobody particularly needs done, like
installing bottle openers that never slip onto the base of every cannon round, or outfitting the mess with
28
specially reinforced teapots which can be mounted on a plasma gun to draw heat. There is an inquisitor
out there still looking for his long dead masters Jokaero.

Deck 124 has been totally infested by a dangerous xenos, deathworld like ecosystem, though it doesn't
seem interested in spreading to other decks. The crew don't mind though. The lower crew use it for any
29 number of "coming of age" rituals, and the Captain treats it as a ship-board, private hunting range. They
also use it as an execution chamber, and the cameras the previous captain installed means it doubles
as entertainment for the crew
The crewmen who work near the Warp drives keep being born with green hair. This happens no matter
how many times they are killed and replaced. The captains have given up by now, and green hair has
30
taken on a specific mystique with the crew, who see those "touched" as soothsayers.

The ship's doors are all automatic. All of them. A rarity though this may be, the machine spirit of the
31 ship is mischievous and temperamental, which makes them more of a aggrivation than a blessing.

The Navigator's house patriarch has become the Paternova. His powers were so incredibly increased
that he has gone full fishslug mode and sends out a disguised servant to any functions he is needed at.
32
However, this means he is a particularly puissant example of his craft.

The astropath's spire is secretly one huge garden. Each successive generation of psyker assigned to
33 the ship has added to it. Some of the plants are psycho-reactive, and help the astropaths work and
relax. Don't ever damage any of the plants, though.
Dead navigators never leave, they just get shoved into stasis coffins that are wired to the current
34 navigator's console. As far as anyone can tell, they're just preserved corpses, but the navigators often
consult with them during difficult warp transits.
The ships machine spirit was long ago impressed with the neural pathways the current traders great,
great, great, etc. grandfather, the Rogue Trader at the time. The ship is now a perpetually crotchety and
cranky old man, constantly comparing things to how they were in his day, and how much better they
35
are. He does not approve of the current captains life choices or grooming. On the other hand, it is an
excellent advisor with a wealth of experience at command, battle, trade, and exploration.

The ship is built around the core of an old wreck from the Dark Age. It seems to have a particularly
36 powerful machine spirit. Which is actually an AI which is thoroughly trapped and on the verge of going
full AM if it doesn't find an outlet soon.
The ship has been in transit so long that its crew have formed an ancestor cult. Ancestors' spirits are
believed to guide the crew through the warp and protect the ship. To encourage this, bones of dead
37
crewmen are worked into the walls of the ship, gradually turning the entire ship into a spacegoing
ossuary. It's haunted as fuck, naturally, but the crew doesn't mind.
The crew have formed an ancestor machine cult, and are convinced the various machine spirits on the
38
ship are actually dead crew. A common past-time is trying to figure out who is who.
 Rogue Trader Crew/Ship Quirks Table v.98
Millennia of machine culting has finally convinced the ships computers and machine spirits that, yes,
they are in fact gods, and should be treated as such. The negatives of this are fairly obvious: all the
useful rituals of the machine cult are now absolutely necessary to get anything done, and more besides.
39 On the other hand, as long as the crew is faithful in their observances, the ship is extremely pro-active
in guarding and protecting it's crew, and the blessings for following religious observance are quite
tangible: better automation, more efficient power production, and lots of "happy accidents" arranged by
the machine spirits.
A single deck, dedicated to controlling the ship's atmospheric conditions, is sealed off and run by one
40 cranky technician who constantly threatens to kill everyone on board. The crew have learnt that as long
as they give him enough attention he won't actually do anything.
The traditional work shanties of shipboard life have gotten WAY out of hand, and there are now songs
for literally any possible occasion, and crew are socially required to burst into song at regular
41
occasional. New crewmen are social pariahs until they too join Rogue Trader: The Musical.

There is a tree growing off the main combustion chamber. It is old and gnarled, but seems perfectly
healthy. No one knows how it gets its nutriment, or how it survives the intense heat and radiation of the
42
engines firing. Some claim it wilts when the reactor isn't maintained properly.

A network of cracks in the shape of a stern male face has appeared in one of the gunnery spotting bay
portholes. Ever time the glass is replaced, the crack returns. The ratings have begun leaving it offerings
43
and placing purity seals on the pane. Though the bay has suffered numerous direct hits in combat, it
has never been breached to the vacuum.
The primary engine of the ship was recovered from a partially-looted vessel that fell into the hands of
the Orks. While the Mechanicus have declared the engine safe, the crew has found that its fuel
44 efficiency and heat dissipation increase rapidly when it is sung to by deep voices. The ship's baritones
and bass singers are always on call to sing rousing songs of war and speed in the engine room.

The air purifiers in the main rating quarters haven't been functional for two hundred years. Despite this,
45 the air in the quarters is fresh, pure and invigorating. The captain has a special system of ducts
constructed to vent some of this air up to the bridge.
Whenever the main lance arrays fire, gunnery crews report the faint sound of a child's voice reciting
46
hymns coming from the power conduits. No source for this noise has been found.
People with suspiciously Eldar-ish features keep showing up among the crew. People are starting to
47
wonder where they're coming from.
There is a small dog on the ship. There has always been a small dog on the ship. It never grows any
48
older. No one has ever seen a rat onboard.
In one of the cavernous, ring-shaped cargo bays, the direction of the artificial gravity does a complete
49 circuit of the room every 24 hours. The crew working and living there have developped peculiar rotating
housing modules, which they climb between with uncanny grace.
Despite the absence of a triggering system or any form of necessary power generation, the ship's
internal lights become blindingly, scorchingly bright in any section invaded by boarders. The ship's
50
defense force has taken to wearing heavy dark eyewear and letting the light do much of the work for
them.
Once a day at exactly noon, shipboard time, one of the corridors on deck 65 fills with superheated
51 plasma for exactly three seconds. The ratings siphon heat off it to cook their food and keep themselves
warm when the life support system is undergoing repairs.
A ship was cobbled together out of several wrecks to hold off a WAAAGH!!! Due to time constraints,
the various parts had to be shoved together however they would fit, with no time to correct the gravity
panels. Centuries of conflict without rest and hundreds of hasty, scavenged repairs have resulted in the
52
ship resembling an escher painting in terms of gravity. However, the crew has had centuries to adjust,
and have actually found many ways of taking advantage of the situations, and boarding parties are of
more danger to themselves than the ship.
 Rogue Trader Crew/Ship Quirks Table v.98
An ork incursion due to a rok impact occurred long ago, and the remnants have never been stamped
out.However, quick thinking by the men sealed off the ork spores and prevented them from infecting
the ship, relegating the ork presence to decks 4-8. The orks have since become a tribal culture that are
constantly at war with one another. Cameras have been installed in all decks and betting on the
53
outcome of battles and wars has become commonplace. Less scrupulous ratings have taken to
sending armaments to the decks for the orks to use, in an attempt to cheat. Talks of recruiting the more
impressive orkoid specimens into the crew have started reaching the ears of the officers.

Some kroot boarders got stuck on a sealed off deck and had to survive by eating rats. As such, the
54
vermin on the ship is vaguely avian, carnivorous, and extremely nasty.
The ships gunning crew believe that the Emperor speaks through his weapons, which has given rise to
a cult wherein the priests diligently listen to the sounds of the weapons as they fire during battle. These
55 priests dedicate their time to trying to decipher the Emperor's messages hidden in the sounds of
gunfire. Many will lose their hearing and even their lives in this theological pursuit, but it must be done.

The gun crews have their faith revolving around their cannon and worship it as a literal manifestation of
the Emperor's wrath. The tech-priests use this to their advantage in order to ensure the swiftest repairs
56 and reloads manageable, as the gun-crew wouldn't dare displease their idol by following incorrect
procedure, or anything less than all of their effort in providing their gun with the means to speak.

Part of the ship are underwater, for no reason anyone can discern. It's not flooded, it seems to have
57
been designed that way. There is, inexplicably, sea life in it. Hungry sea life.
A relatively large portion of the crew believe that their ship is in fact the entire Imperium and that the
Great Crusade and the heresy were fought aboard its decks. They believe that the Golden Throne and
58
the God Emperor are hidden aboard their ship and they will fight beyond endurance to protect Him.

There is a legend that one day a chosen one will be born on to the ship who will start a new great
crusade and golden age for the imperium. The legend says that he will make himself known by having
59
a vision of glory after drinking the coolant from engine 12. So far all of the would be messiahs have
died, but that just shows they were unworthy.
The ship's plasma core has been dangerously unstable for over about a Terran year now. Many of the
tech priests have fled from the ship in fear of their own life due to their diagnosis: The core is likely to
60 suffer catastrophic meltdown at any given moment, killing everyone on board in a flash. Every moment
holds the distinct possibility of instant death, yet the crew and captain don't budge. It's been that way for
years.
There's no deck 32. Measuring the height of the ship, and comparing it with the height of each deck
(The enginseer was bored) has revealed that there should be, there's the extra space that would match
61 up with that. There's a deck 32 on the plans... but when ascending from deck 31, you go straight to
deck 33. Of course, with that knowledge, "deck 32" is now infamous as a place where missing tools
and skiving ratings are meant to have gone.
Due to improperly shielded magnetic coils on the ship's plasma engines, there's one cargo hold which
is noospherically dark. The ship's sensors can't pick up anything there, tech priests venturing inside
regard it as akin to going blind, and servitors can't even enter it without being forcibly carried inside.
The ship's ratings have found it a good place to hide out when wanting to avoid people, since they can't
62
be found and their electoos don't function inside the hold, and so they've set up a still, made a cooking
fire out of a plasma vent, and turned some cargo crates into tables. Now even some some officers
have snuck in when off duty for a surreptitious meal at the "Blind Man's Table".

63 Ladders have been banned for being tainted by Chaos.

 Rogue Trader Crew/Ship Quirks Table v.98
According to the original dictates of the Warrant of Trade, any crew member can challenge the Captain
to a duel to take the position of Rogue Trader, so long as they have passed a "Trial of Worth".
Unfortunately, the specifics of the Trial of Worth were not laid down in the Warrant, so the Captain is
64 free to dictate the terms whenever challenged, so long as they are actually possible to complete.
Obviously, the incumbent Captain typically sets the trail to be as dangerous and close to impossible as
he feasibly can. The trial has only been successfully passed three times.

Due to an accident in the warp, the ship was stranded for millennia, with the ratings devolving into a
skeleton crew of apelike abhumans, under control of the still human officers. These abhumans still
65 understand basic orders but will take slightly longer to follow them, and cannot be given more complex
orders. They feed off the forest of warp tainted plants which rapidly grew in the lower levels of the ship

The servitors on the ship seem to lack any human flesh remaining on them, if they had any to start with,
66
the ship may be host to some men of iron or well disguised necrons.
In the lowest oldest parts of the ship, echoes of an old battle between two sets of non humans can be
67 seen playing out, like transparent ghosts, the tactics change each time the battle starts up, denoting
some level of awareness but they seem to not bother with the crew
The ship is a recovered Chaos warship, and the Engine Seers have developed an odd penance culture,
constantly punishing both themselves and the ship to cleanse it of its past sin. The ship is regularly
68 banged with wrenches, starved of fuel for "fasting", and occasionally they demand periods of shutting
down the ships sensors and lights so the ship can "meditate" on its sins. The captain is not amused.

Deep within the bowels of the ship, the water-cooled reactor is home to a new race of abhumans
consisting mainly of fish-men, mutated from the reactor emissions to be able to thrive in the murky
69 depths, tending to the machine spirit of the ship. It is believed by some of the crew that these people
were in fact designed by the ship to ensure all systems were working in the lower decks of the ship

There is a "secret" fight pit on the lower decks the crew doesn't think the captain knows about. Bloody
underground fighting leagues battle for scrap, booze, and fame. The captain tolerates this and recruits
70
the winners into his personal body guard. One can only hope that this isn't a bergeoning cult of Khorne.

There is a small webway gateway opening positioned in one of the lower cargo bays, though obviously
it can't be seen when inactive. It is heavily guarded at all times. Eldar will very rarely emerge and deliver
71 cryptic warnings. In return for services rendered they promised to fulfill three requests for the dynasty.
That was two generations ago, and there is only one favor left. The previous two did not go as the
Rogue Traders at the time had hoped.
Somehow every generation a member of the crew ends up having a very elaborate tattoo on his back.
He has no recollection of how he got it or where it came from but the tattoo turns out to be a map to a
72
long forgotten part of the ship. Sometimes the map leads to good things...other times it leads to bad
things...
The Ratings staged a mutiny many generations ago, taking the ship with the help of a few disgruntled
lower ranking crew men. Now the ship is run by a democratically elected Council of Crewmen
(everyone on the ship is a crewman) and the Ship President, though the Rogue Trader is nearly always
73
elected due to the senchals spy network. This system is surprisingly effective, assuming the various
factions that sprang up are willing to stop smear campaigning one another long enough to make
decisions.
The ship has a small cottage industry making scrimshaw art from the various xenos bones the ship
comes across. Whenever their is an opportunity for shore leave, the crew excitedly combs the world for
74 new life to harvest for their bones. They sell their scrimshaw to the captain, who then sells it in the
Calixis sector to collectors, where it has actually gained a small following among the nobility. It nets the
dynasty a small, but respectable profit.
The ship has a small population of Squats on the lower decks, rescued from the destruction of their
75 worlds by the Rogue Traders ancestors. They are willing to do a small amount of manufacturing for the
ship. The Tech Priests resent their presence but generally tolerate them.
 Rogue Trader Crew/Ship Quirks Table v.98
In the past the ships crew was often times dangerously low, to prevent that from happening the captain
at the time had his priests perform sermons reinforcing the value of mariage and procreation. Over time
76
these believes took hold in the crew and as such it's heaviliy stigmatized to not be married as soon as
possible, both for officers and for ratings.
Once or twice a month the Vox casters on the ship randomly emit horrible screams and descriptions of
the horrific events the caster is going through.They do not appear to be recordings as there has never
77
been two identical transmissions observed in the several centuries since they started playing. No one
has been able to determine their source.
Deep in a huge abandoned storage bay, the crews have set up high-speed derbys. The crews regularly
work on and race hodgepodge and ramshackle vehicles that often fall apart at the starting line. This
78 has lead to rivalries between the different ratings, but surges in morale are common during particularly
exciting or messy races. Select events are often filmed for the entertainment of the higher-ranking
officers.
The ratings and crewmen speak a basterdized version of Low Gothic that bears a striking resemblance
79
to french.
In times past the ship was outfitted for specializing in the exploration of aquatic worlds, and a large
portion of the ship is filled with water instead of air. A sizable portion of the ratings and crewmen are a
stabalized, sanctioned abhuman offshoot with gills. Onboard Enginseers augument new ratings to
80
breath and function efficiently underwater. Submerged sections become and less common in the higher
decks, with the officers decks having no fully submerged sections, though portions of rooms are often
submerged.
A certain cult of the ecclesiarchy has taken root among the crewmen and ratings of the Rogue Trader's
ship who believe that they have an Emperor-given duty to spread happiness and merriment.
81
Sometimes this means subjecting cruel officers to incredibly elaborate practical jokes as revenge for
their misdeeds.
A fresh batch of ratings brought with them a cult that earned the instant enmity of an already-
82
established lower-deck cult. At every chance, each pursues a holy war against the other.
Deck 3 of the command tower is, as far as any adept can determine, completely occupied by a massive
83 artificial organ which performs waste and oxygen reclamation functions. The ship has no other life-
support systems.
During warp transit, deck 13 experiences odd temporal 'hiccups' in which phantom images of the past
84 or future are overlapped with the reality of the present. As the ship is a relic of the great crusade, it has
much history to show.
A past rogue trader that owned the ship was apparently an unabashed xenophile - the current captain
85 has discovered a hidden boudoir with stasis chambers holding an assortment xenos. Most are female,
some are...not so easily defined.
The ship's enforcers are called "Scanners" specialized servitors made by tech priests by severing all of
the nervous links between the brain and the body, and replacing them with an artificial control system
that the scanners are constantly monitoring. This makes them particularly resistant to the horrors of the
warp, at the cost of their humanity (and some would argue, sanity) They never sleep, are inhumanly
86
watchful and alert, and will instantly kill any rating who displays signs of insubordination or other
activities they deem threatening to the ship. Scanners have a secret society that many of the officers
feel wields far too much power on the ship, but their terrifying presence leads to undeniable efficiency
gains. They live in vain.
The ship has a roving band of minstrels and entertainers. they conduct holy prescribed Emperor
songs/chants and plays. They never ask for any form of payment yet no one knows where they go to
87
after they get done entertaining one area. All attempts to follow or track them have met with failure.
 Rogue Trader Crew/Ship Quirks Table v.98
The ship operates on a three shift rotation, over thousands of years each shift has developed it's own
culture and ritual, and now the ratings for each ship, often cannot speak to one another. There is a
ritual mass dance similar to the haka at the end of every shift as the shift taking over communicates
roughly "if you've left a mess for us we will fuck you up" and the shift leaving communicates roughly
88
"Come and have a go if you think you're hard enough". This state of affairs has been allowed because
the intense competition between the three tribes leads to a slight gain in efficiency in regular operations,
though it does lead to a commensurate decrease effectiveness in actions that require all hands.

Certain pipes running through the ship will leak a thick reddish liquid when the ship is put under stress;
the Tech-priests claim it is only water with rust and other contaminates, but most of the crew swears
89 that it's blood. There's a small cult that has tapped one of these pipes in the belowdecks. They believe
that drinking the blood of the ship will make them holier and stronger.

The crew recently found that the lower decks are being run by a tribe of reptilian xenos, they have been
90 receiving and obeying their orders for generations now and seem to fully worship the emperor of man,
they also seem to think they are humans and that you are the xenos
A broken heating system for generations means that the ratings prefer to wear large insulating coats
during their duties. Officers and other high-ranking crewmembers have correspondingly warmer and
fancier coats. Passing down a coat is seen as nominating someone as your successor or favoured
91
child. The crew must be allowed to hunt for new pelts when the ship arrives at a suitable location lest
crew die of exposure, mutiny over a lack of coats or even start killing each other for skin.

The navigator suffered a grievous accident many years ago, requiring the amputation of every body
part except the brain. Acolytes sworn into secrecy maintain the nutrient soup and electrode connections
92 of his brain's transparent case. During the rare instances a visitor is present, he relies on dim lighting
and a navigator robe hanging from his jar to fool them into thinking the rest of his body is still there.

Two gundecks of the vessel have, since time immaterial, been in a constant feud with one another. The
insular and clannish nature of the crew means it's almost impossible for officers to learn the direct
93
cause, but whispers amongst the ratings insist that the feud began with the theft of a spoon at
mealtime, centuries ago.
The ship is home to a small flock of feline animals which rely on crew leavings and the occasional
94 water pipe breach to survive. A fighting ring exists on the lower decks, with small lineages of murder-
cats being bred and entered into matches.
Deck 17 has been without artificial gravity for two hundred years since an irreplaceable archeotech
capacitor blew out. The ratings on that deck have adapted to living and working in microgravity
95 conditions, and have formed their own distinct culture. None of them can stay on decks with gravity for
more than brief periods of time due to muscle and bone atrophy, and will resist any attempt to repair the
artificial gravity.
A strange luminescent moss grows in the nooks crannies and bulkheads of the ship, it seems to glow a
different colour depending on the emotions of the majority of the people around it.
The moss is so old no records exist on the ship of before the moss was present throughout. The crew
uses the moss to provide light and as an aid in interrogations and as a result the ship is as often as not
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the temporary home of an inquisitor and retinue. It seems to be thickest in the parts of the ship no
longer in use and some whisper about strange and sudden disappearances which are so sudden they
defy logic near those areas of the ship, duty in those sectors is often used as a punishment or test of
faith among the crew.
Mirrors and reflective surfaces on the ship never display the current subject. Instead the ship projects a
subject or scene from the past present or potential future. The officers use cameras and video screen
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for grooming. But below decks grooming is a communal event. Some below have never seen how they
look or even a mirror.
 Rogue Trader Crew/Ship Quirks Table v.98
Things written on paper or vellum inside the ship tend to shift subtly, one or two words changing to twist
the meaning of notes or orders. The crew's reluctance to put pen to paper extends to all aspects of
traditional penmanship. As a result, the crew records all information on extremely thin etched metal
sheets. There is rich cultural significance to the metal being used, with laws being etched in
adamantine, official documents in silver, especially important ones in gold, and steel, brass, copper,
98 and lead all having unique meanings in various circumstances. Purity seals are scratched into the wax
of the seal rather than on hanging paper. While crewmen may use nails, or metal styluses, the officers
have a large collection of dictation servo skulls equipped for the task. It is seen as bad luck to mark
yourself with a tattoo, sometimes to the point where people with prominent writing on their skin are
pushed out of airlocks in an attempt to eject any bad luck they might have brought.

Legend says that one day, a child will be born on the ship. That child shall be entirely unable to feel
pain. They will be the doom of the ship, for as they turn 20 years old, the ship will be destroyed and
99 everyone on board will die. There is even a sort of secret police on the ship that are out to kill anyone
suspected of being the doomchild. Thus, the whole crew makes sure to always overreact to pain of any
sort, loudly screaming at the slightest poke.
The ship's munitorum is infested with huge sump rats that constantly eat gunpowder and other
marginally digestible stores. A weekly assembly line tradition is for all the workmen to stop during the
middle of the day, pick up a weapon and use it to kill as many swamp rats as they can find during a
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frenzied hunt/extermination. The worker with the biggest kill-count gets bragging rights and drinks
bought for them at the nearest still. Occasionally a reckless workman loses life or limb when cornered
and savaged by a full pack.
The ship has 500 days in a year, 50 days in a month, 10 days in a week, ~18 hours in a day, and 3x6
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hour shifts in a day.
The ship has it's own stable races of Abhumans. They have an additional joint on every finger, over
sized almond eyes, and a natural resistance to the radiation burns common to the engine room
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workers. The Abhumans colloquially "Fingerlings", have yet to receive official sanctioning from the
Inquisition.
The darker sections of Hydroponics are rumored to be home to "The Bog Witch". Rumor has it that she
occasionally curses members of the crew, and carries off children who refuse to eat their nutrient
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paste. Particularly brave or fool hardy crew members sometimes venture into hydroponics in order to
ask a favor of the Bog Witch.
For unknown reasons the hallway between Maintenance accesses 407 and 408, weeps blood. The
crew believe the blood is from innocents martyred in the name of the Emperor. As such they have
taken to "Anointing" everything with it. Newborns, ammunition, tools, shuttle craft, the captain's clothes,
the captain's food, etc.
The ship supports its own distillery. Much of the original crew hailed from a world that was largely small
island archipelagos, and they brought their own naval traditions into space. One such tradition was a
daily ration of a distilled alcoholic beverage mixed with water. This was kept going as a light buzz was
found to cut down on discipline problems and it had the effect of sterilizing the water. With resupply
difficult the crew set up their own production facilities, after several hundred years of experimentation
they not only produce the daily alcohol ration for the crew but several unique types of high quality liquor.
While this produces some additional income, the ships stores must be heavily guarded, particularly
during boarding actions or battles as the crew morale will plummet should the alcohol ration be cut off.