It is that time of year again, the spooky season when even the Emperor might trade his Golden Throne for a pumpkin spice latte. Across Terra, and possibly Cadia if it had not, you know, fallen, mortals are donning costumes, lighting candles, and pretending that their souls are not perpetually at risk from the warp.
But what if we peeked across the galaxy and invited our favourite Warhammer 40K factions to the Halloween party? Who would show up in a cape? Who would bring plague cupcakes? And who, for the love of the Emperor, would accidentally summon a daemon in the punch bowl?
Grab your lasgun and a handful of candy corn, dear reader, because we are about to find out which 40K factions best embody the traditional Halloween horrors.
Ghosts of the Craftworlds: Boo! But Make It Elegant
If there is one faction that has absolutely nailed the whole ethereal and tragic aesthetic, it is the Craftworld Eldar. Specifically, the haunting halls of Iyanden, where the wraithbone glows, the mood is melancholy, and the guests are literally dead inside, though not in the office-job sense.
When an Eldar dies, their soul is captured in a spirit stone, a sort of cosmic USB stick for eternal existence. From there, those souls can be plugged into towering Wraith constructs, turning them into spectral warriors. Think haunted mech suits powered by the sadness of millennia.
They glide through battle like ghosts at a graveyard rave, guided by psychic whispers and centuries of regret. If you invited them to a Halloween party, they would probably float in dramatically, whisper something like, “The skein of fate weaves eternal,” and then sigh when someone offers them a cocktail named Spirit of the Warp.
Spook factor: 9/10
Witches of the Warp: Dust and Magic and Everything Cursed
Every Halloween bash needs a good witch, and in the grim darkness of the far future, there is no coven quite as cursed as the Thousand Sons.
Once noble scholars of sorcery, these Space Marines took forbidden knowledge a little too literally and ended up as hollow suits of armour filled with sand. Not the fun beach kind, the tragic soul-stuff kind.
Their primarch, Magnus the Red, is the galaxy’s biggest bookworm with a penchant for backfiring magic tricks. You know the type, the one who insists they can control the warp and then accidentally turn half the room into dust motes.
The Thousand Sons ooze witchy vibes. Ornate robes, glowing runes, mysterious familiars, and a faint sense that they might turn you into a frog if you interrupt their chanting. If you saw them in a Halloween costume contest, they would absolutely sweep the Best Hat category while muttering incantations under their breath.
Spook factor: 10/10
Zombies of the Plague God: The Rot Stops Here
Lurching through the door next, and immediately lowering the property value, are the Death Guard, Nurgle’s favourite plague-ridden sons and the galaxy’s most cheerful corpses.
If Halloween had a mascot for “do not touch that, it is oozing,” it would be them. These warriors are the undead poster boys of Warhammer 40K, rotting, bloated, and inexplicably optimistic about it. Where most people see decay, they see Nurgle’s love. It is heart-warming and stomach-turning all at once.
Led by the delightfully disgusting Mortarion, the Death Guard spread joy, infection, and the occasional limb wherever they go. They would show up to your Halloween party with a home-brewed punch that is suspiciously bubbling, and their Poxwalkers would be the ones eating all the brains at the snack table, literally.
Spook factor: 8/10
Werewolves of Fenris: Hairy Situations and Lunar Reputations
Every full moon, you can hear the howls echoing across Fenris, and no, it is not indigestion from too much mead. The Space Wolves are the resident werewolves of the 41st millennium.
Their Canis Helix gene-seed means they are one bad day away from turning into snarling Wulfen, hulking wolf-beasts who shred enemies and furniture alike. Picture the classic werewolf transformation scene, but with more power armour and fewer shirts.
If you invited them to a Halloween party, they would be the ones arriving late, fur matted, smelling of ale, and insisting that it is “just a bit of a phase.” By the end of the night, someone’s furniture is in splinters, and everyone agrees it was a proper Fenrisian blowout.
Spook factor: 7/10
Mummies and Skeletons of the Stars: Coffin to See You Again
Emerging from their tomb worlds with all the subtlety of a three-thousand-year nap interrupted, the Necrons are the galaxy’s answer to both mummies and skeletons, a two-for-one undead deal.
Once proud, fleshy dynasts, they traded their mortal bodies for immortal metal ones in a move that screams midlife crisis, but eternal. Their tombs are ancient, their hieroglyphics glowy, and their sense of superiority completely intact. Imagine a gathering of Egyptian pharaohs, but robotic, cranky, and armed with gauss flayers.
They would glide into your Halloween party demanding to be addressed as Overlord while monologuing about how they ruled the stars before it was cool. And do not even think about offering them snacks. They do not eat, but they will still critique your catering.
Spook factor: 9/10
Frankenstein’s Machine: Mad Science, but Make It Gothic
If Halloween had a laboratory, it would be located on Mars, and the Adeptus Mechanicus would be running it. Equal parts mad scientist and religious zealot, the Tech-Priests of the Mechanicus live by a motto that might as well be “just because you can replace all your limbs with mechadendrites does not mean you should, but we did anyway.”
These individuals make Frankenstein look like a DIY hobbyist. Flesh and machine? Check. Monstrous creations that may or may not have souls? Double check. A questionable understanding of personal hygiene? Absolutely.
Their parties would feature binary chanting, electrical sparks, and at least one experiment that goes horribly wrong. You know it is a good night when someone shouts, “It is alive!” and no one can tell whether that is a boast or a warning.
Spook factor: 8/10
Demons of the Warp: Hell’s Bells and Warp Smells
No Halloween lineup would be complete without some actual demons, and who better than the Chaos Daemons themselves?
These warp-born nightmares come in every flavour of sin and suffering, from Khorne’s blood-drenched berserkers to Tzeentch’s mind-bending changelings. They are the embodiment of everything that goes bump, stab, and scream in the night.
If they crashed your Halloween party, it would be lively. Bloodletters arguing with Pink Horrors over who brought the better hors d’oeuvres, Slaanesh daemons turning the dance floor into a scandal, and Nurgle’s minions leaving souvenirs in the punch bowl.
Invite them if you dare, but do not expect them to leave quietly, or at all.
Spook factor: 11/10
Clowns of Cegorach: Laugh Now, Die Later
Do you hear that faint jingle? That unsettling laugh? Do not worry, it is only the Harlequins, the Aeldari’s masked murder-performers who think theatre and homicide make a perfect double act.
They are equal parts terrifying and fabulous, imagine Cirque du Soleil but everyone is armed with monomolecular weapons and an existential sense of irony. These tricksters dance through battle, re-enacting the fall of their god Cegorach while slicing apart anyone who does not get the choreography right.
At your Halloween party, they would steal the show and possibly your wallet. Expect pirouettes, glitter, and at least one unsettling moment when you realise their smiles do not move under the mask.
Spook factor: 10/10
Aliens of the Hive Mind: The Ultimate Party Crashers
No Halloween is complete without a nod to our favourite extraterrestrial horrors, and in the grimdark future, the Tyranids reign supreme as the ultimate xenomorphs.
They are the galaxy’s hungriest hive mind, devouring entire worlds like all-you-can-eat buffets. Sleek, toothy, and endlessly mutating, they are what happens when nature decides it is done playing fair and starts speedrunning evolution.
At your Halloween shindig, they would be the ones showing up uninvited, eating everything, and leaving behind a sticky residue no one wants to clean. You would try to complain to management, but by then the venue has been biomass assimilated.
Spook factor: 9/10
Monster Slayers of the Imperium: The Witch Hunters
Of course, someone has to keep this ghastly gathering under control. Enter the Inquisition and their equally zealous allies, the Sisters of Battle.
Armed with flamers, faith, and a total lack of humour, these holy hunters are here to purge the unclean, the heretical, and anyone double-dipping the crisps. Their arrival at the party is usually heralded by the words, “Burn the heretic!” followed by someone’s costume catching fire.
They are the Van Helsings of the Imperium, stoic, dramatic, and prone to shouting scripture while everything burns around them.
Spook factor: 6/10
A Night to Remember in the Grimdark
And so, as the candles flicker and the warp winds howl, our spooky 41st millennium soiree draws to a close. The Necrons are complaining about kids these millennia, the Death Guard are leaving unspeakable stains on the carpet, and the Harlequins are laughing at jokes only they understand.
Somewhere in the corner, a Space Wolf howls at the moon while a Tech-Priest lectures the punch bowl about sacred circuitry. It is chaos, literally, it is messy, it is horrifying, and honestly, it is exactly what you would expect from a Warhammer Halloween.
So whether you are summoning daemons or just summoning the will to carve another pumpkin, remember this. In the grim darkness of the far future, there is only war, and maybe, just maybe, a little bit of spooky fun.
Happy Halloween, heretics.
About the author
I have always had a deep love for all things Halloween, from spooky stories to creepy decorations and anything that makes me shiver with delight. Lately I have been slowly getting pulled into the world of Warhammer thanks to my patient and very persuasive boyfriend. Now I have a budding army of Tyranids taking over my shelves, and I have to admit, I find them weirdly adorable even as they look ready to devour everything in sight.
