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.
Three cats. One tiger. One dog. Four birds—sparrow, hawk, canary, crow. Armadillo. Snowshoe hare. One mouse. A heck of a lot of heartworms.
Since the battle with Luke at King Pharmaceuticals, Calley had come to understand something: his octopus was missing. Where he’d used to have entire zoos in his mind, ready for the plucking, he now had empty shelves of fuzzy shadows, and a handful of clear forms: three cats. One tiger. One dog—
Over the past few weeks, he’d discovered those were the only ones he could freely shift in and out of. He’d gotten stuck for several days in the mouse form, figuring that out. The rest, that chump-change handful that was left: he suspected quite strongly that he’d get stuck in them, too, if he tried to use them. Unfortunately, it was something in need of testing.
Fortunately, this particular form involved delicious rewards. Duck. A simple mallard. They didn’t really have that many natural enemies, in Central Park. But they did have groupies. Groupies with glorious stale bread. That’s what Calley was thinking of, when he fluttered his sparrow form into the bushes, and shifted; bread. Nommy, nommy bread. He forgot one little thing.
Water.
The mallard stood at the edge of the pond, somewhat unsteady. Out there floated his brethren, collecting their dues: here he stood, beady black eyes quite skeptical. ‘Water’. There was... an awful lot of it. This ‘swimming’ thing, he knew from experience, was not nearly as easy as they were making it look. Did ducks naturally float? ‘Cause he wasn’t quite so sure about that. Or were they like people—they only floated once they relaxed into the inevitable belief that the water would either hold them up or drag them down, gasping and screaming, into its darkening depths, as the air boiled out of their lungs—
Calley. Did not. Like. Water.
Exhibit A: the pond.
Exhibit B: the malicious kindergartener coming towards him, as her father chatted into a cell phone, his back turned.
Exhibit C: he wasn’t good enough with this form yet to fly. His choices were plucking by toddler, or drowning by death pond.
The mallard turned and fled—wings beating uselessly, feet waddling desperately—away from the water. The kindergartener laughed cheerfully in pursuit.
Andrea had discovered something today. Something... delectable. Something that if it fell into the wrong hands, could easily spell the end of the known world in her eyes. As she walked, a small bag clutched in one arm, help protectively against her chest, she held the other before her- marveling at her discovery.
A New York style chilly cheese dog.
They were delicious, the most tantalizing, taste filled thing the young woman had ever let befall on her tongue, and she had all to herself Four of them. A dream come true.
Andrea brought the chili smothered hot dog to her mouth and took a bite, her abnormal jaws cleaving the food item near in half. Her eyes rolled back a bit, fluttering as she savored the surely R rated flavor the chili brought to such a boring article of food. As she finished her first bite, and moved in to finish the second off, the soft sound of a child giggling reached her ears.
She stopped, her eyes moving to scan the surrounding area for the child. She loved children, and though she had no real hopes of ever having her own, watching others play with their kids always brought a smile to her face. Her orange gaze spotted the girl after a moment, and the poor duck she was chasing, and with no clear sign of a parent in sight- Andrea took it upon herself to save the waddling bird from a one way ticket to Ducky dress up land.
She made her way over, stopping just out of reach. "Excuse me, Little girl?" The child paused momentarily in her pursuit, before her eyes locked on andrea and without thinking, Andrea smiled cheerfully. She had forgotten that her nice set of pearly whites tended to remind others of a monstrous Ogre. Before she could say another word, the poor little girl shrieked and darted back off the way she had come- Duck completely forgotten about.
After slapping her maw back shut, Andrea turned to look at the duck, thoroughly disappointed with herself. She'd have to remind herself not to smile next time. Her attention now on the bird, she knelt and tilted her head at it, "Why aren't you in the water, little guy?"
Orange eyes. Finger paint nightmare skin. Voice like an angel who’d bitten her own tongue.
His savoir.
>> "Why aren't you in the water, little guy?"
The mallard panted where he’d sat on the ground. Running long distances: not something ducks were built for. His bill tilted upwards. Tusks. Huh. Well, she didn’t seem inclined to eat him. And he needed a few more seconds to catch his breath before he could try that fleeing thing again.
“Quack,” he soulfully explained, his black eyes watery. “Quack, quack quack. Wheeze.”
This didn’t seem quite sufficient: he wobbled back to his feet, and supplemented it with some erratic beating of his wings. Oh, le bad ducky day.
Tilting her head the other way, she scrunched up her nose in thought, listening to his duckish reply. Perhaps he had been injured in his attempt to flee the girl child? Andrea frowned a bit, unsure where the nearest Veterinarian was located...
Though, she didn't see any harm with wandering the streets, duck in hand, until she stumbled across one. "Are you injured little guy?" She plopped her bag full of chili down and fished inside for an plain, warm piece of bread, intent on luring the poor thing close so she could pick it up.
Her gloved fingers left the bag, a soft, white chuck of bread held in between them, which she lowered in front of her. "Here Mr. duckie, i've got some tasty bread for you..."
Only in his brain. Thank you, X-Man Luke Jacobs. Way to do good for America’s youth. “Quack,” he deadpan replied, resettling his feathers.
She was... rummaging. And then there was bread. Bread, held temptingly close to the ground. Bread, not stale: warm, fresh, fragrant.
>> "Here Mr. duckie, I've got some tasty bread for you..."
Now this, friends, was a suspicious statement. That’s the sort of thing the man in the candy van says. And the gloves: generally, when a mutant wears gloves, it’s for a very good reason. A dangerous power that isn’t under full control. He wasn’t exactly in a position to defend himself.
But she had called him Mister... And his feet were already moving, towards that delicious smell. Well, then. That decided it.
“Quack!” He happily agreed, waddling innocently into grabbing range, and eating the bread out of her hand.
Like clockwork. With a smile, she let him have the bread and picked up the bird gently, but firmly. With Mr. duckie tucked under one arm, she broke another piece of bread off, one that had a bit of chili cheese smeared into it, and held it for him to eat again. After grabbing her bag, she stood and made her way to the waters edge, having decided that she might as well see if it was alright enough to swim before she went dragging the poor thing on a long walk to the doctors.
"Alright little guy, In. you. go!"
Andrea, pleased with her decision, knelt and sort of tossed the bird gently into the water. It would lift her spirits to see it swim off and join its kin towards the center of the water- well out of the way of little girls with sticky, nose picking fingers.
The kidnapping of his own fine self was not welcome. Normally, he would mind this quite acutely. In cat form, there might be potential clawing afoot: at the least, there would be squiggling and wiggling. But... she had more bread. And it was good.
He plucked at the tasty offerings in her hands, vaguely noting that they were moving. He didn’t realize their goal, however, until she shifted him in her arms.
They were back where he’d started.
The water rippled gently across the lake, as placid as the face of death. The duck went utterly, horribly still. She wouldn’t. She—
>> "Alright little guy, In. you. go!"
He was airborne. Not the good kind. His wings flapped, flapped, struggled: like a baby bird, he got a little lift before crashing down. Straight into the water.
Ducks. It turns out, they’re naturally buoyant. This doesn’t actually help, when a certain duck starts to fail in a blind panic.
Hmm. Last time she checked, ducks didn't usually go into such a panic when placed in water. Sher watched for a moment, becoming increasingly more worried as its flurry of wing beats didn't cease, before deciding to go in after it. She waded in, up to her hips and reach for the duck, which now that she was closer, she could see was on its back in the water. Her heart jumped into her throat and she picked it up quickly, rushing back to dry land so the struggling creature wouldn't fall back in accidentally.
There was defiantly something wrong with this duck, something she couldn't outwardly see. Maybe it had a broken wing, or a broken leg, it had been running rather awkwardly from that little girl after all. She scolded herself from being so blind and held the bird close to her chest, her chili dogs forgotten by the side of the water- already being set in upon by pigeons and other ducks.
"I'm sorry little guy, looks like the water wasnt the best thing for you..." She started to move off, eyeing the creature before she lifted her gaze to start looking for direction. "but you'll feel better once i get you to the vet..."
Water. It was cheerfully sunlight around him, except for his own shadow. Air. He could see it: that was the worst part about water. Every beat of his wings thrashed more air into the water, in the form of bubbles: they rose back upwards, useless to him. Briefly, he got himself upright; just as quickly, he was under again.
Then there were hands. Grabbing. Pulling. And he was back in air, with the green devil woman. Oh no. No no no—he started to beat his wings in her arms, before catching sight of what she was wading through.
Water. Right.
He kept shiveringly still, biding his time as the beach came closer.
>> "I'm sorry little guy, looks like the water wasn’t the best thing for you... but you'll feel better once I get you to the vet..."
The vet.
Oh. Hells. No.
Mr. Duckie went into overdrive: erratic half-drowned wing beats, useless kicks of webbed legs, wiggling of his stubby tail. His blunt beak peeked pathetically at her arms. He needed to shift. Now. Never mind whatever was wrong with his power lately: he needed to shift right now. Tiger form. Tiger form would be great. Or house cat.
Hawk.
Sparrow.
Parakeet?
He flailed all the harder, as the shifts hung just out of reach.
Mouse. Yes, he’d even settle for mouse. She was a mutant, right? If he shifted to anything, she’d understand that he wasn’t a duck, pleasedon’tsicthevetonhim. He’d had some very poor experiences with vets, back in the years he’d spent as a stray cat.
It became a chant in his head: Even mouse. Even mouse. Even mouse—
And then, miraculously, the shift clicked into place.
...But nothing changed. He was still a duck. He was still—
—falling, as the arms around him suddenly disappeared. As he flapped his wings instinctively to slow his descent, he noticed a small form falling to the ground with him.
She had been trying to calm the struggling duck, when suddenly- things didnt feel quite so right anymore. First of all, she was falling... which was odd seeing as a moment ago her feet had been happily on the ground... Secondly, the duck was no where to be seen at first... then she noticed it off to her side, falling next to her.
only...
Hand everything gotten bigger? Yes, yes it had. She had maybe a moment or so to contemplate this, before the ground rose up to meet her and she plopped into the pile that had been her own clothes. Good thing she had neglected to take her laptop with her today... As she slowly got to her feet, she noticed problem number three... She was Furry... And not just fur, green, spotty fur. She was a living patch of moss. Her eyes traveled over her pile of clothes, until she noticed her sunglasses sitting on their side what seemed to be a mile away from her. This little discovery caused her to panic. She looked about, hardly a soul in site- save the duck.
Andrea was quite confused. Thoroughly in fact. What had just happened? why was she... a mouse? She picked up her tail and let out the equivalent of a mouses sob, before darting towards her glasses. She chanced a look at herself in their reflection, and after nothing happened, full on gaped at what she saw before her. A green, spotted bundle of fur with odd eyes and an even odder set of teeth.
“Quack!” The duck declared, after picking its own finely feathered self up from the ground, and resettling its wings. A bit of water came out of its beak. “Quack! Quack, quack, quack!” Was it pointing one wingtip towards the mousey girl? Why yes. Yes, it was. Was it laughing?
Oh my, yes.
So. This was... strange. He’d, err, never done that before. But... “Quack!” It kind of made sense, in a way. After all, Slate was his ‘brother’, and Slate could do his healing trick on others. So... it was only fair he could shift others right? Yeah, maybe. More importantly?
“Quack quack quack!” The duck paused, gasping in breath through its beak. Heh! Who was taking who to the vet, demon girl? That little mouse form of hers looked a little ill, itself. Kind of green and patchy. Heh. He was safe, and she was naked and furry! Welcome. To. His. World. “Quack quack quack!”
...Unbeknownst to the duck, his own racket and the mouse’s squeaking cries had alerted an old nemesis: the kindergarten girl was cheerfully straying off from her daddy again. Her diabolically innocent eyes even noticed a new playmate, besides Mr. Duckie... and that mean green monster was gone. Oh happy day, for anyone not a mouse or a duck.
Her attention shifted from her reflection to that of the duck, who was making quite a racket behind her. She sniffled as best she could in her new body, and padded his way, over her pile of clothing. She paused halfway though, noticing that one power of hers still remained. A surprised squeak left her, and she jumped from her close, inspecting the small, mousy hand pints she had left behind.
So, she could still turn things. Another blow to make the day even worse. The ducks laughing caught her attention again, she turned and moved to speak, but only squeaky nonsense left her lips. It was then, while she stood there with both rodent hands bent at odd angles to grasp at her hips, that she noticed the large form of the girl from earlier heading towards them. In a horrified moment of clarity, Andrea waved her tiny arms frantically at the duck, before streaking off past him towards the shrubbery. They both needed to escape that child now, and with her in the body of a mouse, she coudlent simply grin and scare the child away.
Yep. He’d been right about those gloves of hers—she did have a power she wasn’t so keen at controlling. Either that, or her sudden change in perspective just had her forgetting to control it. He couldn’t quite tell what those little paw prints were made of, but his ducky eyes could see the line they were marching across her puddle of clothing.
Watching her try to put her paws on her mousey hips was pretty priceless. She was lucky she didn’t just fall over backwards. Mice: not exactly made to be bipedal. The squeaky tirade would have put a grin on his beak, if that was physically possible. He settled for a smugly amused resettling of his wings, and a little wiggle of his tail. Which, given her certain height disadvantage, she probably couldn’t even see. Heehee. Maybe he should be more sympathetic. It did rather suck to be a mouse. But somehow, knowing that from personal experience... just made it even more fun to watch her try and play human. Paws on hips, indeed. “Quack!” Aww, and look, now she was waving her—
“Duckie! Mousie!” The happy kindergartener called, with the voice of the Abyss. (And not, mind you, the good one.)
Amusement: officially dead. Mousie ran. Duckie waddled for all he was worth, pumping his wings to get in some air time worthy of a wing-clipped canary. He crashed into the bushes behind her, and wiggle-waddled his way in as deep as he could get. Hopefully, the tangled branches would keep the hellspawn from following them. Hopefully.
His beak was officially shut to further quacking laughter. He tucked his wings, and huddled against the dirt at the base of a bush. The moss-colored mouse suddenly raised a new question in his mind: ...how was she going to change back? Personally, he was stuck like this for at least the next few hours. At least. She... err. The way his own shifting worked, he had to make himself change back to human. There wasn’t any such thing as an auto-reversion (except for that one odd time, when he’d hit that deer hunter Jacen’s windshield). So... did that mean... he had to change her back? ‘Cause yeah. That... might be interesting.
If she nearby, a ducky wing would soon be poking her experimentally. Human? He thought, trying to picture what she’d looked like before. Except minus the clothes.
...His little tail had the good grace to wiggle blushingly.
((ooc: You’ll auto-revert back to human in a half hour to an hour; your choice on the exact timing. ))
From the darkness of the bushes, Andrea watched through beady eyes as the girl called out for them and probed as far as her little hands could reach. Her heart thudded in her chest savagely, causing her tiny body to shake like a leaf in the wind. Her small orange eyes swiftly moved to where the duck was, and she darted off in his direction.
What ever had happened, she was sure they would need to ban together to survive this. Images popped into her head of all the poor puppies and kittens that had to live through "cuddling" sessions and dress up tea parties. She shuddered at the thought of being forced into barbie clothes and half drowned in a cup of much to sugary tea.
Once she was within reach of the duck, she waved her arms again and barked out a series of small squeaks, unsure as to if he could understand them at all... she knew she sure couldn't. Growing frustrated rather quickly at her lack of a voice, she groaned- which came out as an elongated squeak- and tugged on her ears as if she were going to pull them off of her head.
How was she supposed to get them both out of here, when she couldn't talk, and even at her top speed she was still only running a few inches a second? Not to mention that her fine feathered friend apperantly couldn't fly... She blamed herself really, for trying to throw a witch duck in water.
He tried poking at her with one wing again, now that she was close enough for the branches not to get in the way: Back to human. Back to human. Back to human.
Fail? Yeah. Fail. So. She seemed kind of traumatized by this, judging by all the squeakity squeaky ear-pulling. That was something that Calley could sympathize with: he’d found it rather traumatizing the first time he’d looked down at his body and found fur, too. And proceeded to have his sister open the door to toss him out of bed for school that morning. And the subsequent chasing of himself off of his own pillow, with Batting Hands of Death. And the fleeing to small, dark corners. The small, dark space under the bushes really was quite nostalgic.
He was a new bird, now, though. A confident, competent multi-shifter. He flicked his beak over his chest feathers, settling them down. He stood back up, webbed feet (confidently, competently) bracing against the ground. Until he turned her back to human, clearly, he would simply have to mentor her.
“Quack,” he said authoritatively, with a solid nod of his beak towards his new pupil.
“Duckie? Mousie?” The girl called, from the way they’d come.
“BARK.” A dog answered her, from their other side. Leash laws: New Yorkers didn’t always follow them.
))