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.
"Careful with that Richard. That Renoir is worth more than you'd make in a lifetime." A quiet voice filled the room, as a slim woman stepped to the left, pushing her white hair from her face. Her eyes sharpened on the panting in her coworker's gloved hands as he tried carefully to place the picture on the wall, and she only let out her breathe when it was secure. Working with such priceless works of art could always be stressful, but Evelyn enjoyed it. The echoes these pieces gave off were comforting and famliar. The rough brushwork and attention to color has so much meaning in her eyes. She could sit here forever and drink it up, but she was working, and the casual observation would have to wait until later.
The piece in front of her was from 1867, the Impressionist period; one of her favorites. The MET was currently having an exhibit focusing on the fashion of this time era, and the placement of the pieces had to be precise to convey the meanings they were trying to. They were in the south end of the museum, second floor, and it was fairly quiet this morning as they put the final touches on the exhibit. Evelyn straightened one of the female costumes just to the right of the painting, and touched the folds of the fabric, longing to feel the texture of the fabric, but her senses blocked by the gloves. The visual of the folds of fabric still had a story to tell, and it echoed in her mind. [1800th century costuming, modern fabric, stitched to mimick the fashion of the time. Colors suggest upper class.] She almost laughed at the analysis. Sometimes all her echoes did was reveal the obvious here at the museum, but it was useful at times. Like when they were bringing in new artwork, and found a reproduction in the mix. Evelyn had known it immediately by the age of the canvas compared to the frame. There had been thanks from her employer, yet frustration from the individual who sent it. Sometimes, her attention to detail caused problems; she was a hero and a villain depending on whose favor she worked in.
Turning back to the painting, Evelyn crossed her arms and looked at it closely. It was called Lise or Woman with Umbrella. It featured a woman in a long white dress, and a dark green sash around her waist. The fabric on her sleeves was translucent, and you could see the daubs of her pale skin color showing through. The dainty umbrella above her head was rather bright compared to the dark shadows that fell over the figures face, and the red ribbon in her hair was a warm and bold accent in the mostly cool toned work. [Painting shows attention to light, breaking up whites into blues, pinks, and yellows; black is built from blues, greens and browns. Artist posingan academy background, figures well structured and showing a more classic training, yet application of paint and breaking up of colors show influence from other artists and an impressionistic approach.] Again, nothing exactly startling about that analysis. Artwork was studied so much, it was hard to find anything new or revealing in it. Perhaps that was why she watched people so much. People were revealing, and it was hard to know any previous information about an individual. You could study their movements, their behaviors, their little quirks. She knew better than to do that with her coworkers though. Richard was skittish enough with her already, so she avoiding looking at him for too long. He knew when she was reading him, and he disliked it immensely.
"How does it look?" He asked, scanning the room. Evelyn paused, taking it all in, and letting the room talk to her. There was a sense of class and elegance, balance, rythmn... It felt correct. Evelyn gave a smile to him, and a nod.
"It looks nice. Thanks for your help. Just in time, I think. The museum is opening for the day." Her voice was melodic but quiet, and as her coworker gathered his supplies and left, Evelyn was left in the room, just gazing at the portrait on the wall. The womans face seemed like it had more to tell, but it was a painting, and she could only listen to the echoes of could bes. She wasn't aware of how long she was standing there, until she heard approaching footsteps and realized she was loitering when the patrons were showing up. Feeling nervous, she started for the door, but someone was already there trying to come in. "Sorry." She said in a quiet voice, ducking behind her white hair nervously.
Ah, it was good to be out. It seemed like this week was nothing but an endless parade of the emotionally disturbed and the fearful. Not that Harper really had a problem with that. That was his favorite part of the job! That and encourage some of these maladies further. But, for today, Harper was feeling like he needed to get outside again. He needed to explore, enrich his soul a bit with the heartbeat of the city, maybe take in just a tad bit more…culture.
An art museum. Perfect!
Walking down the sidewalk, Harper smiled to himself as he began to untuck his rainbow colored scarf, stopping momentarily to lean on his antique cane and slip the article of clothing into his coat pocket. His tan, camel hair coat hung loosely about his extreme lithe frame, making him almost seem comical for half a moment. But It was a look that he really didn’t mind. After all, to each their own.
Once he adjusted his white dress shirt underneath his coat, Harper turned and limped up to the museum. After paying for his admission, Harper smiled as he stepped into the quiet, almost church-like interior of the art museum. He most certainly did enjoy them because respectful silence was such an allure. It allowed him to momentarily drop the character his displayed in public and simply stare, watching both people and art as he passed through halls. In many ways it almost reminded him of home, of his parents’ house.
…
But enough of that. His free hand stuff into his jean pockets, Harper limped towards the nearest doorway, gazing and taking in the sight of the art pieces that he already spied when--
>> "Sorry." [/color]
Oop! Almost bumped into a nice young lady. That certainly would have been rude. Tilting his head, he smiled as he leaned on his cane.
“Oh, no problem,” he grinned. “Entirely my fault. I guess I should pay attention to where I'm limping towards.”
The figure who stepped into the room immediately gave off a wave of echoes, and it was hard to Evelyn to listen to his response with the chattering happening in her brain. She gave a small smile and nod of her head, and forced her professional attitude to take over for a moment. "The galleries have some slim corridors. It can make it difficult to avoid people whether paying attention or not." She said with a smile. She glanced down at her hands for a moment, and slipped off her curator gloves, tucking them into the belt resting around her waist. Then she politely pushed her hair out of her face. "Welcome to the Metropolitan Museum of Art; is there anything I can help you with?" The sentence came out formal, and she hated the way it rolled off her tongue. She always struggled with customer service, which is why her coworkers tended to keep her behind the scenes. Something about her having a sharp tongue and scaring the customers... whatever it was, she enjoyed working with the art, so she tolerated the occasional
She was wearing a camisole underneath her pale yellow sweater, the edges of the cream fabric showing a little above and below the shirt line. Her brown skirt was ruffled, a delicate light blend of silk and lace, and was soft against her legs. Her shoes were worn, but well made, mules, a brown color that matched her skirt with cream accents that matched her camisole. The belt she wore was on top of the sweater and rested just below her belly button, and she sleeves of her sweater came down overlapping ever so slightly across the palms of her hand. To top off the outfit, a small name tag was clipped to her shirt, the name Evelyn printed in neat black letters. She clear took pride in her appearance, and while the articles of clothing were aged, they were cared for. As she looked at the man, she let the echoes of his appearance fill her mind.
[White dress shirt, well made. Camel hair coat, tan colored; more common color choice. Individual is well off or has someone wealthy enough in the family to give it as a gift. Coat hangs loosely on frame, individual is thin. Coat has not been tailored to match his frame, which suggests the article of clothing isn't worn often, or individual wasn't born into the prestige to wear tailored clothing. Cane is antique, well made, handle shaped with a stylized dragon. Space where the handle meets the base, hardly noticeable. Possible concealed weapon. Based on appearance, cane and posture, individual has been in a high class society. Disregard possibility that he has not been born in a culture to wear tailored clothing.] As the information buzzed through her mind, she took a step back to allow the figure to walk into the room. "Are you a fan of the Impressionists?" She said politely, pausing and allowing the rest of the information to funnel through her brain.
[Rainbow colored scarf. Shows a slight eccentric side, spontaneity. Clothing chosen on a whim. Individual smiles with his face, yet does not smile with his eyes. Darker expression lurking beneath the surface, individual limps, but moves with confidence as he does. Balanced with possible concealed weapon... advisable to use caution.[/i]]
The final tidbits of information caused her to have just the smallest flicker of emotion to pass across her face. Curiosity, intrigue, yet no fear at the moment. She chose to disregard most of the information, and focused instead on the one element of his attire she could not quite understand. "Interesting ring for someone to wear with a camel hair suit. Old gift?" Jensen would scold her for being so bold. She couldn't help it though. The gaps in her echoes always annoyed her, and she longed to get things right. A perfectionist somewhere in the inside, solving the riddles of life was one of the most entertaining things she could do.
>> "The galleries have some slim corridors. It can make it difficult to avoid people whether paying attention or not...Welcome to the Metropolitan Museum of Art; is there anything I can help you with?"[/color]
“So it would seem,” Harper said with a cool smile. He took a moment to look the woman over, not overtly so, but just enough to get a quick look. She was cute but there was something off about her. Almost like she was studying him as if he were a book or something. Odd. But, shaking the feeling aside, he pressed on. “Actually, no. I simply stepped inside in order to have a look around. Rare day off.”
He sighed a bit in relief at that statement. It really was true. He rarely had a day off from his job and when he did he was usually far too busy with…other activities to really take the time to feed the soul. That is what he really needed right now, he needed to feed his soul. Not with the tortured screams of his playthings, but with the tortured, visual arts of the masters.
>> "Are you a fan of the Impressionists?" [/color]
Blinking away his thoughts, he smiled once again to the young lady and nodded. “As a matter of fact, I am. My mother was a great fan of the Impressionsts and insisted that the few we had hanging in our home were originals. I’m fairly certain they were reproductions, though,” he said with a chuckle.
He shifted his weight to lean on his cane a bit more. It was always best to keep moving with this leg pain of his since movement was better for handling the trauma he had suffered. But he didn’t want to devoid himself of such lovely company prematurely. Who knows, with her shy demeanor…she could be a bit of fun.
>> "Interesting ring for someone to wear with a camel hair suit. Old gift?"[/color]
A glance down and he spotted that silver ring with the etched in black dragon he wore on his pinky. Ah, the sweet thoughts that were brought up by this small trinket. It always amazed him how something so simple as a piece of jewelry could bring memories into existence, like rolling in a fog across the surface of his brain and filling his vision with flashes of pictures: a sweet smile, a nervous touch, a first kiss, a tortured cry for mercy…
Ahh…so sweet.
He smirked at the young woman, one who asked many questions, and confirmed with a nod.
“An old friend,” he said as he brushed a finger across cool metal. “Gave it to me as a memento before we…parted. But, that was a long time ago,” he said and shifted his weight again. “And, while I do know a bit about Impressionist pieces, I wouldn’t mind guided tour…if you are free to give one, that is. I certainly would enjoy such lovely company as yours.”
Posted by Evelyn Summers on Mar 16, 2013 14:59:47 GMT -6
Omega Mutant
65C6C3
Bisexual
None
1,406
49
Feb 27, 2023 9:10:51 GMT -6
Mati
Evelyn listened politely as the man spoke. She watched his facial expressions and noted his behavior. [Hard working, rarely has time to himself. Relived to have the opportunity.] There was something else there though. Perhaps he did something in his free time beyond work, something that also took up time. Something that would be much different than studying these works of art. It matched with some of her earlier observations, and she tucked the information away for later. She watched, looking for signs of stress. It was hard to tell whether his eyes had darker shadows from lack of sleep from this angle, but that could be revealing. if he slept ill, something could keep him awake, could bother him.If he slept well, he was doing well dealing with the stress of his profession. What would his profession be though? What would a man who visited art galleries but with a noticeable limp do?
[Thin, well to do, hands don't show heavy signs of wear, no signs of heavy bruising or poorly healed broken bones for fights or other physical activity. Intelligent. Possibly works in a field that would involve the mind.]
That would take more time to deduce though. She gave a small smile at his response to her next question. "Renoir has always been a favorite of mine. Le déjeuner des canotiers has such soft colors, light brushwork reminiscent of the other artists, but holds it's own style. He had a way of embracing other styles, but not being restricted to them. Someday I'd like to see the piece in person, but the works we do have are beautiful none-the-less." She turned towards the other paintings on the wall, hair moving in a cascade from her back, across her shoulder, then landing lightly across her blouse. She had that type of straight hair that tended to stay untangled regardless of movement, which was nice, considering she always wore it down. Out of the corner of her eye, she could just barely see his facial expressions as he looked at the ring. There was sentimental value, that was certain. But something darker there, still... Sometimes, you could look at a person, and see the edges of something darker under the surface. He seemed like such a man. But she never assumes, only observes, and deduced what wasn't to find out, what was.
"While I'm sure a tour would be more entertaining than continuing to sort paintings, I'm usually not the sort to give them. Most people tend to ... find the amount of information I know overwhelming. My coworkers say I'm an encyclopedia, and the paintings fascinate me, so once I get started talking about them, it's hard to stop." She chuckled, the faintest hint of a blush on her cheeks. She casually avoided admitting it was much her outspokenness about the patrons as it was about the paintings that intimidated people. She tried to keep to herself most of the time, because people weren't books: they didn't enjoy being read, and some things were better left private.
>> "Renoir has always been a favorite of mine. Le déjeuner des canotiers has such soft colors, light brushwork reminiscent of the other artists, but holds it's own style. He had a way of embracing other styles, but not being restricted to them. Someday I'd like to see the piece in person, but the works we do have are beautiful none-the-less." [/color]
Harper smiled in response. She really was an enthusiastic fan, wasn’t she? That was good, considering the line of work that she was in. It would be been vastly unfortunately if she had hated artwork and museums. Certainly this wouldn’t be the job for her. When one is enthusiastic for their current work place, they give off an aura that is utterly infectious. In all honesty it made the young therapist want to hang around her a tad bit longer. Just to see what made her tick.
So to speak.
>> "While I'm sure a tour would be more entertaining than continuing to sort paintings, I'm usually not the sort to give them. Most people tend to ... find the amount of information I know overwhelming. My coworkers say I'm an encyclopedia, and the paintings fascinate me, so once I get started talking about them, it's hard to stop."[/color]
“Well, that’s all the more reason for to get a tour from someone who knows what they are talking about,” he beamed. “Personally I would rather an overflow of information as opposed to someone who didn’t know what they were talking about.”
Harper meant what he said. If he had to take part in a tour, he would have rathered that it was someone who knew the subject than someone who was just paid to be there. So far from what he gathered of the young woman, she was increasingly intelligent, observant, and knew quite a bit about her place of business. All those only added up to her being the best candidate.
“Of course, only if you want to, that is,” he said gently. “By the way, all my to introduce myself,” he said as he leaned on his cane and gave her a small bow. “Harper Patrick Lovecraft, miss. It is a pleasure to meet you.”
Posted by Evelyn Summers on Mar 25, 2013 21:12:25 GMT -6
Omega Mutant
65C6C3
Bisexual
None
1,406
49
Feb 27, 2023 9:10:51 GMT -6
Mati
Evelyn listened to the strangers response, and felt a small smile fill her face. It was always nice to know when someone appreciated her information, and those were the rare times she felt...useful. Sometimes, her powers seemed like more of a chore than anything else. But if this person welcomed that sort of 'information overflow', maybe there was hope for her after all. If there was anywhere her mutation could fit into society, at least here in the museum it didn't seem as odd. She felt relaxed, and pushed her hair back out of her face. This time, it stayed tucked there a little longer, so she wasn't constantly having to move it. "What I don't know, I'm always happy to learn. I find this sort of stuff fascinating, really. Museums have so much information if you just look and listen."
She smiled, and glanced at a few of the paintings around her. Claude Monet's Camille caught her attention, the subtle use of browns in the black background loose in their brushwork, while the face showed attention to detail not seen in some of his later more impressionistic work. The skin had the hues of yellow and blues that were typical, and he was somewhat criticized for, but she found them beautiful. [Mid 18th century painting. Shows traces of the newly discovered Cobalt Blue pigment, sweeping brush strokes reflect better quality oils discovered and used, influenced by the collapsible tin paint tubes. Yellow pigments from background show through dress on bottom.] She turned away, focusing once more on the stranger addressing her. [Body language reveals sincerity. Polite in nature, well mannered, proper.] She listened to the way he introduced himself, and watched how he gave a small bow. He leaned on the cane, ever so slightly, which showed the cane was not for show.
"H.P. Lovecraft... American author of science fiction, fantasy, and horror. You share a namesake with a true master of words. His works are delightful. I read The Alchemist not too long ago. His use of language and imagery is wonderful. I find I'm partial to the story, because Antoine was able to escape the fate that followed his family." She remarked, and pleasantly remembered the tale. At the age of 32, the members of the household were cursed to die, but Antoine managed to escape the fate... Within these walls and amongst the dark and shadowy forests, the wild ravines and grottos of the hillside below, were spent the first years of my troubled life. Yes, she felt the tale had been a bit relate-able.
"I find I'm partial to the works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle myself. He has some wonderful works, but Sherlock Holmes will always be my favorite." There was an amused twinkle in her eyes for a moment, and her mind ran through pages of books she'd read, the famous tales of mystery and deduction that reflected the life she lived. Then she shook her head, and came back to the present. "I apologize, I'm rambling. It's a delight to meet you Mr. Lovecraft. My name is Evelyn Summers. And I'd be more than happy to show you around." She said, giving a nod of the head, and motioning an arm to the door. "Anywhere in particular you'd like to start?" She inquired politely.
