The X-men run missions and work together with the NYPD, striving to maintain a peaceful balance between humans and mutants. When it comes to a fight, they won't back down from protecting those who need their help.
Haven presents itself as a humanitarian organization for activists, leaders, and high society, yet mutants are the secret leaders working to protect and serve their kind. Behind the scenes they bring their goals into reality.
From the time when mutants became known to the world, SUPER was founded as a black-ops division of the CIA in an attempt to classify, observe, and learn more about this new and rising threat.
The Syndicate works to help bring mutantkind to the forefront of the world. They work from the shadows, a beacon of hope for mutants, but a bane to mankind. With their guiding hand, humanity will finally find extinction.
Since the existence of mutants was first revealed in the nineties, the world has become a changed place. Whether they're genetic misfits or the next stage in humanity's evolution, there's no denying their growing numbers, especially in hubs like New York City. The NYPD has a division devoted to mutant related crimes. Super-powered vigilantes help to maintain the peace. Those who style themselves as Homo Superior work to tear society apart for rebuilding in their own image.
MRO is an intermediate to advanced writing level original character, original plot X-Men RPG. We've been open and active since October of 2005. You can play as a mutant, human, or Adapted— one of the rare humans who nullify mutant powers by their very existence. Goodies, baddies, and neutrals are all welcome.
Short Term Plots:Are They Coming for You?
There have been whispers on the streets lately of a boogeyman... mutant and humans, young and old, all have been targets of trafficking.
The Fountain of Youth
A chemical serum has been released that's shaving a few years off of the population. In some cases, found to be temporary, and in others...?
MRO MOVES WITH CURRENT TIME: What month and year it is now in real life, it's the same for MRO, too.
Fuegogrande: "Fuegogrande" player of The Ranger, Ion, Rhia, and Null
Neopolitan: "Aly" player of Rebecca Grey, Stephanie Graves, Marisol Cervantes, Vanessa Bookman, Chrysanthemum Van Hart, Sabine Sang, Eupraxia
Ongoing Plots
Magic and Mystics
After the events of the 2020 Harvest Moon and the following Winter Solstice, magic has started manifesting in the MROvere! With the efforts of the Welldrinker Cult, people are being converted into Mystics, a species of people genetically disposed to be great conduits for magical energy.
The Welldrinker Cult
A shadowy group is gaining power, drawing in people who are curious, vulnerable, or malicious, and turning them into Mystics. They are recruiting people into their ranks to spread the influence of magic in the world, but for what end goal?
Are They Coming for You?
There have been whispers on the streets lately of a boogeyman... mutant and humans, young and old, all have been targets of trafficking.
Adapteds
What if the human race began to adapt to the mutant threat? What if the human race changed ever so subtly... without the x-gene.
Atlanteans
The lost city of Atlantis has been found! Refugees from this undersea mutant dystopia have started to filter in to New York as citizens and businessfolk. You may make one as a player character of run into one on the street.
Got a plot in mind?
MRO plots are player-created the Mods facilitate and organize the big ones, but we get the ideas from you. Do you have a plot in mind, and want to know whether it needs Mod approval? Check out our plot guidelines.
As far as dreams go, it was a fairly terrible one. Low production value, awkward plot, confusing characters. About the only thing that stood out in her mind was the impressive death scene. She'd died before. It had sucked. Just a blade through her back, and that's all she wrote. There hadn't been any Boromir-grade deaths with arrows sailing, haggard breaths, and one person fighting on past when they should have dropped down, dead. In this scenario, there had been. And again, it had been her. A dream is a dream, though. She hadn't made much of it.
What had she died over...? She vaguely recalled voices, and faces that came at her fuzzy first. As she sat up in bed, pressing back her hair and straining her mind for memories, they grew more solid and defined. Mirror, and... Maxine.
She momentarily patted herself on the back for not referring to the woman as something more crude and insulting. A second later, her mind did just that.
A dream was a dream, though. She got up out of bed and took a shower, got dressed and ate something, not thinking much about it. Maybe she'd talk with Gawain about it later. Or Maya? Was it a Gawain or a Maya day? This stuff got so confusing when he/she/it could hop into a movie and switch genders by timing scene changes right.
As the day progressed, idle chatter started bugging her. An odd mention of a weird dream, here or there. People remembering similar events... the urge to talk to Gawain about it grew, bit by bit.
She was not worried. To reiterate, a dream is just a dream.
Except when it's not.
To hell with it. She'd talk to him. She wasn't going to call first. Even if she'd thought of it, she wouldn't have. She got on the bus, rode it to the mansion, and went to his room. It was late afternoon by the time she got to his door. She knocked.
He had better be up already, she thought. She was getting tired of people who slept in half the day.
The room was empty. It had been empty since early dawn when the only current occupant fell out of bed and spent the next half hour under a cold shower. It had been empty since said occupant had pushed the door open, not bothering to lock it, and set out for a weird, awkward, long day of consoling kids and... other stuff. The sheets were tangled, the carpet was wet from someone walking out of a shower, clothes and all, and the room was, as we have noted before, quietly and accusingly empty.
With a sigh, she tried the handle. The door was surprisingly unlocked. A small 'huh' escaped her. Without lingering on the 'huh', she stepped in.
Her eyes passed over the scene of the room. Something was wrong. Something was up. It was a mess. He wasn't there. Usually, he kept things just a little cleaner before he went out. Didn't trail water out of the shower. Didn't leave sheets on the floor. Usually, they could be in a tangle, sure. There was that one time they hadn't even bothered tidying up before leaving the room, but... the floor? Weird.
Padding quietly over to the door, Amelia finally remembered it needed pushing shut. She shut it, locking herself in the room. Then, she decided, she would wait. So, plopping down on the side of Gawain's bed, she did.
Where the hell was he? And why, if a dream was a dream, was she worried about its contents more and more? It wasn't like this was the freaking matrix or anything.
There is a weird state after being definitely drunk and before being hung over when a person is on his way to sober, wishing to switch lanes and go back. Literally and figuratively, Gawain wished that was an option. You think his room was a mess? You have not seen the rest of the day.
Maxine.
It was going to get worse. It is always darkest before the dawn... and it was only late afternoon. As of now.
And Ami was sitting on his bed.
Gawain walked out of the mirror and into a wall of awkward.
He smelled like beer. It hit her like a wave. And in that instant, she knew they had no future. Yeah. Crazy, huh? She must really have not liked drunks.
"Where were you?" Her voice was quiet. Her hands rested on her lap.
Drunk was one thing. Half-drunk, confused and guilty as charged was another.
Gawain did his best to brace himself for what was coming. No use. She was the girlfriend, at least for now, and there is no good way to have these kind of conversations with girlfriends.
"Soooo, you woke up too." he muttered, looking at her "Do you... remember it?"
It being the dream. The chaos. The fight. Most of all, Mirror dying. For another woman.
So, they'd shared the same dream. Yeah. That was messed up.
"Yup." Amelia replied, in a tone casual, devoid of any pride. "Like Boromir. With less arrows."
She stared at Gawain for a second, and then added. "For Maxine." She put all her disgust with that woman into the words.
For Maxine. For that hag. That boyfriend-stealing, lying, cheating, ugly reporter who tried to steal her brother, and dumped tables on Shin. That Maxine. Why exactly had she died for That Maxine? All that and more, she conveyed in her look.
She had died before. In a movie. It was so familiar that for a moment Gawain wondered if he was personally responsible for the chaos; if his powers had suddenly decided to act out and drag eveyone into some strange alternate reality... ... too. Much. Guilt.
>>"For Maxine."
That stung, like a slap in the face. Of course she was right, there was no way around it.
"It's..." complicated? Nah, he did not want to actually get slapped in the face.
"I was..." confused? Paniced? Ami deserved better than that. You knew exactl what you were doing.
Gawain hug his head. Alcohol had been the least of his problems. It was not lik ehe got drunk on a regular basis. Not this drunk, anyway. He had been known to get a beer or two with friends and acquaintances depressed over girl problems, or to drink to celebrate, but no, Gawain was an X-man and far from being a drunk. He was ashamed anyway.
"Get drunk often, or just when you need to escape problems?"
That had come off a little more hostile than she'd wanted. He was probably messed up over dying, even in a dream. Especially over Maxine.
"Sorry," she apologized, a moment later. "Do you want to talk about it...?" It wasn't early in the day. "Where have you been?" Had he not even come home?
The silence was deafening. It lasted a good minute. It felt like longer. "Maxine's?" She broke it like the ice in an ice tray, freeing all the cubes within. Her tone expressed how very wrong an answer that had been.
She did not say anything else. Did not feel she needed to. He smelled like beer, and hadn't come to her first. She couldn't think of an adequate way to respond to that, so she let him simmer in his own juices and do worse.
