Hittade den här tabellen till RT med samma tema som min tabell: Rogue Trader Crew/Ship Quirks Table v.98 - 1391726375847.pdf (4pcdn.org) (anger tyvärr inte upphovsmannen så jag vet inte vem jag ska ge äran åt) - ett antal av resultaten passar i det stora hela minna idéer/teman för ett RT skepp medan ett antal andra inte passar ett dugg, så jag har tagit de idéer som passar och lagt över dem till min lista (om än i flera fall med vissa ändringar i ordval, grammatik och/eller en-två tillagda meningar):
451. The primary currency on ship are used adamantine bolts, which the Mechanicus’ mark as lawfully removed (so as to discourage the scrounging of new bolts from the hull). The removal of a bolt by a non-tech-priest or the forgery of an Mechanicus’ mark is punished by spacing.
452. Centuries ago one of the cargo holds was claimed by a noble family. They have established an estate there and don't want to leave.
453. 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 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.
454. 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 ceremonial masked outfits. Their membership is secretive, but they bring back exceptionally good candidates for the crew.
455. A monastic order with vow of silence joined, or was founded on, the ship centuries ago. The “Silent ones” sometimes parade through main decks and when they do all activity ceases in the area they are in. Still, they are good for morale.
456. The ship’s farming area/s are protected by vicious guard dogs descended 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 and larger ship’s vermin.
457. One of the decks or sections has been totally overtaken by a dangerous 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 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.
458. The astropath's spire is one huge garden. Each successive generation of psykers assigned to 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.
459. The traditional work songs 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 occasional. New crewmen are social pariahs until they too join Rogue Trader: The Musical.
460. Whenever the main lance arrays fire, gunnery crews report the faint sound of a child's voice reciting hymns coming from the power conduits. No source for this noise has been found.
461. Despite the absence of any found triggering system do the ship's internal lights become blindingly, scorchingly bright in any section invaded by boarders. The ship's defence forces has taken to wearing heavy dark eyewear and letting the light do much of the work for them.
462. 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 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.
463. 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 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.
464. 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 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.
465. A ship was cobbled together out of several wrecks to hold off a WAAAGH! or similar great conflict 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 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.
466. There is a "secret" fight pit on the lower decks the crew doesn't think the high officers knows about. Bloody underground fighting leagues battle for scrap, booze, and fame.
467. The ship has a small cottage industry making scrimshaw art from nun-human bones, xeno-bones are preferred, the ship comes across. Whenever their is an opportunity for shore leave, the crew excitedly combs the world for new life to harvest for their bones. They sell their scrimshaw to the captain, who then sells it in civilized space to collectors, where it has actually gained a small following among the nobility. It nets the dynasty a small, but respectable profit.
468. It's heavily stigmatized to not be married as soon as possible, both for officers and for ratings. And it’s just as stigmatized to not get children as soon as possible, either through breeding or adoption.
469. 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 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.
470. 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. Sometimes this means subjecting cruel officers to incredibly elaborate practical jokes as revenge for their misdeeds.
471. 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 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.
472. 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 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.
473. A past rogue trader that owned the ship was apparently an unabashed xenophile - the current captain has discovered a hidden boudoir with stasis chambers holding an assortment xenos. Most are female, some are...not so easily defined.
474. 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 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.
475. The ship has a roving band of minstrels and entertainers that conduct prescribed songs, chants and plays. They never ask for any form of payment. They are masked and call each other buy their stage names, roles or clear monickers, and no one knows where they go to after they get done entertaining one area. All attempts to follow or track them have met with failure.
476. 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 "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.
477. 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 that it's blood. There's superstition around drinking or marking yourself with the “blood of the ship”.
478. 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 taken on a specific mystique with the crew, who see those "touched" as soothsayers.
479. Two duty areas (like 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 cause, but whispers amongst the ratings insist that the feud began with the theft of a spoon at mealtime, centuries ago.
480. 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 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.
481. There are strong superstitions and mistrust a-board regarding writing on paper or vellum. 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, and lead all having unique meanings in various circumstances. Purity seals are scratched into the wax of the seal or on small slats bound to the seal with string 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 text tattoos, 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.
482. 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 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.
451. The primary currency on ship are used adamantine bolts, which the Mechanicus’ mark as lawfully removed (so as to discourage the scrounging of new bolts from the hull). The removal of a bolt by a non-tech-priest or the forgery of an Mechanicus’ mark is punished by spacing.
452. Centuries ago one of the cargo holds was claimed by a noble family. They have established an estate there and don't want to leave.
453. 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 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.
454. 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 ceremonial masked outfits. Their membership is secretive, but they bring back exceptionally good candidates for the crew.
455. A monastic order with vow of silence joined, or was founded on, the ship centuries ago. The “Silent ones” sometimes parade through main decks and when they do all activity ceases in the area they are in. Still, they are good for morale.
456. The ship’s farming area/s are protected by vicious guard dogs descended 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 and larger ship’s vermin.
457. One of the decks or sections has been totally overtaken by a dangerous 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 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.
458. The astropath's spire is one huge garden. Each successive generation of psykers assigned to 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.
459. The traditional work songs 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 occasional. New crewmen are social pariahs until they too join Rogue Trader: The Musical.
460. Whenever the main lance arrays fire, gunnery crews report the faint sound of a child's voice reciting hymns coming from the power conduits. No source for this noise has been found.
461. Despite the absence of any found triggering system do the ship's internal lights become blindingly, scorchingly bright in any section invaded by boarders. The ship's defence forces has taken to wearing heavy dark eyewear and letting the light do much of the work for them.
462. 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 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.
463. 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 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.
464. 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 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.
465. A ship was cobbled together out of several wrecks to hold off a WAAAGH! or similar great conflict 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 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.
466. There is a "secret" fight pit on the lower decks the crew doesn't think the high officers knows about. Bloody underground fighting leagues battle for scrap, booze, and fame.
467. The ship has a small cottage industry making scrimshaw art from nun-human bones, xeno-bones are preferred, the ship comes across. Whenever their is an opportunity for shore leave, the crew excitedly combs the world for new life to harvest for their bones. They sell their scrimshaw to the captain, who then sells it in civilized space to collectors, where it has actually gained a small following among the nobility. It nets the dynasty a small, but respectable profit.
468. It's heavily stigmatized to not be married as soon as possible, both for officers and for ratings. And it’s just as stigmatized to not get children as soon as possible, either through breeding or adoption.
469. 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 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.
470. 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. Sometimes this means subjecting cruel officers to incredibly elaborate practical jokes as revenge for their misdeeds.
471. 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 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.
472. 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 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.
473. A past rogue trader that owned the ship was apparently an unabashed xenophile - the current captain has discovered a hidden boudoir with stasis chambers holding an assortment xenos. Most are female, some are...not so easily defined.
474. 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 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.
475. The ship has a roving band of minstrels and entertainers that conduct prescribed songs, chants and plays. They never ask for any form of payment. They are masked and call each other buy their stage names, roles or clear monickers, and no one knows where they go to after they get done entertaining one area. All attempts to follow or track them have met with failure.
476. 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 "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.
477. 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 that it's blood. There's superstition around drinking or marking yourself with the “blood of the ship”.
478. 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 taken on a specific mystique with the crew, who see those "touched" as soothsayers.
479. Two duty areas (like 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 cause, but whispers amongst the ratings insist that the feud began with the theft of a spoon at mealtime, centuries ago.
480. 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 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.
481. There are strong superstitions and mistrust a-board regarding writing on paper or vellum. 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, and lead all having unique meanings in various circumstances. Purity seals are scratched into the wax of the seal or on small slats bound to the seal with string 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 text tattoos, 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.
482. 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 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.
