Banu traders are renowned for their merchant prowess, traveling the space lanes and trading with everyone from humans to the Vanduul! Their sturdy, dedicated trading ships are prized beyond all other transports, sometimes passing from generation to generation of Banu.

I first stumbled across Star Citizen during the Kickstarter campaign in October 2012.

As a teenager raised in the golden age of TIE Fighter and X‑Wing, the pitch hit every nerve, a persistent online universe, a story‑driven single‑player campaign, and a fully simulated sci‑fi sandbox. I was instantly intrigued, but with Kickstarter still infamous for questionable projects, I wasn’t brave enough to pledge.

So I watched from a distance as the crowdfunding effort exploded and the game’s scope grew far beyond its original pitch.

Everything changed when CIG released the 300i commercial. It was stylish, aspirational, and exactly the kind of multi‑role luxury ship that appealed to me. By then, Star Citizen no longer felt like a pipe dream, it felt like something genuinely special taking shape.

That’s when I finally opened my wallet. I picked up a Digital Bounty Hunter package, a 300i with LTI, Star Citizen, and Squadron 42, and felt genuinely good about supporting the project.

Days later, CIG clarified their stance on historic stretch‑goal rewards. As a newly minted Veteran Backer, I received the full suite of early rewards, including the Squadron 42 Mission Disk and free hangar fees on my starting planet. It felt like I’d joined at exactly the right moment.

Drake Cutlass

Envious of the grandeur of the Revel & York hangars I kept seeing in YouTube videos, I bought access as an addon in September 2014.

It didn’t take long to realise the Drake Cutlass Black include VFG Industrial Hangar, which in turn granted access to Revel & York. So the funds were quickly reshuffled, the 300i was upgraded, and I secured what I hoped would be a more capable ship.

Unfortunately, the original Cutlass was a disaster. Outsourced to a third party and built before CIG had established proper ship metrics, it arrived as a structural and functional mess. The cargo hold was too short, the hull oversized, and the thruster placement made accurate flight simulation impossible. CIG had to fudge the physics just to make it fly, and even the slightest damage sent it spiralling out of control. On paper it was versatile, in practice, it was a regret.

The Rework

By 2017, CIG had finally redefined the Drake Cutlass Black into something coherent. The rework established it as a rugged, utilitarian short‑range vessel with modest cargo capacity, a far cry from the confused, over‑promised concept that had preceded it. On paper, the new Cutlass was exactly what Drake should have been building all along, a spartan, no‑nonsense workhorse designed for quick hops, light hauling, and trouble on the fringes.

But for me, the memory of the original model lingered. The disastrous first iteration had promised versatility and adventure, yet delivered instability, broken metrics, and a ship that couldn’t fly without developer intervention. That history coloured expectations.

So when the rework arrived, it was clear the Cutlass had been repositioned. It was functional, dependable, and finally flyable, but its facilities were intentionally limited. For anyone imagining a life lived among the stars, the new Cutlass offered little in the way of long‑range comfort or exploration capability. It was a ship built for short stints, not sweeping journeys, a practical tool, not a home.

Banu Merchantman

Not long after unveiling the reworked Drake Cutlass Black, CIG shifted gears and introduced something entirely different, the Banu Defender. Where Drake’s utilitarian redesign leaned into exposed framework and industrial pragmatism, the Defender arrived with an almost ceremonial presence. Its hull flowed with organic curves, intricate surface etchings, and subtle iridescent patterns that hinted at a culture far more opulent and expressive than anything human manufacturers had produced.

The Defender was more than just a new alien fighter, it was the first tangible glimpse into the Banu design philosophy that in theory would later define the Merchantman. Every contour, every texture, every decorative motif suggested a civilisation that valued craftsmanship, symbolism, and luxury woven directly into function. Compared to the stark practicality of the Cutlass, the Defender felt like a statement piece, a preview of the architectural and cultural richness that the Merchantman would eventually embody.

The Banu Merchantman isn’t just a ship, it’s a home and a way of life… The Merchantman is a traveling bazar, capable of landing or docking and then inviting locals in to view what it’s cargo holds have to offer. The ship design, perfected by generations of Banu development, is intended to offer a combination of high speed and durability. While the Banu is less configurable than a Caterpillar or a Starfarer, there’s still plenty of room to take the ship in different directions. From black market trade platform to deadly q-ship, it’s a force to be reckoned with!

The Banu Merchantman was pitched as an extraordinarily versatile, palatial trade vessel, a roaming bazaar capable of hauling almost anything to almost anywhere. At its original price point, it represented one of the most compelling opportunities in the entire pledge catalogue, a capital‑class ship with cultural depth, economic potential, and a role unlike anything humans had built.

Early concept art and promotional material painted a picture of a ship steeped in alien craftsmanship, with sweeping architectural lines and ornate interior spaces that felt more like a travelling embassy than a cargo hauler. And then came the whispers, hints of a symbiotic relationship with the Banu Defender, suggesting that the Merchantman’s capabilities would only grow as CIG expanded the Banu lore. The Defender’s organic styling and ceremonial detailing seemed to foreshadow a much grander design language waiting to unfold within the Merchantman.

All of it pointed toward a vessel whose scope was destined to expand far beyond its humble initial listing, a ship that promised not just utility, but identity, culture, and prestige.

Back then, $0 Cross‑Chassis Upgrades were still available, and I’d managed to assemble a surprisingly efficient chain. I had a CCU that stepped the $250 Aegis Redeemer up to the Banu Merchantman, along with a free $10 Cutlass → Buccaneer upgrade, an Origin 85X LTI token, and an Aurora MR sitting in my account.

I decided to commit. I redeemed all my ships apart from the upgraded Digital Bounty Hunter package, and consolidated the remaining value, upgrading all the way to the Merchantman.

Concept Production

Since 2017, the Banu Merchantman has evolved far beyond its original concept. What began as an exotic alien trade ship steadily transformed into a full‑fledged capital‑class vessel, now comparable in scale and ambition to an Idris or even an 890 Jump. Each new reveal pushed its scope further, an onboard shopping concourse, a dedicated hangar, expansive crew and guest quarters, medical facilities, security wings, and layers of cultural detail unique to the Banu. The ship grew as the game grew, ballooning into one of the most elaborate and luxurious designs in the entire pledge catalogue.

Yet despite following this journey from the sidelines, I’ve remained in a kind of pledge limbo. I only briefly flew the 300i and the original Cutlass before upgrading away from both, and ever since, I’ve had no ship I can truly call my own. My pledge sits in a conceptual state, tied to a vessel that exists more in lore and artwork than in the playable universe.

And that’s unlikely to change soon. The Merchantman’s complexity, its alien architecture, bespoke assets, cultural spaces, and sheer scale, means it’s almost certainly one of the last ships that will reach flyable status. Until then, I’m at CIG’s mercy. I’ll be granted a loaner, of course, but what that ship will be is anyone’s guess. The Merchantman remains a promise on the horizon, and I’m still waiting for the moment I can finally step aboard the vessel I invested in all those years ago.