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.
((OOC: I was thinking this might take place during Romania~))
How long she had been there, it was hard to say.
Even harder to tell was how many times she had the same conversation with the stone faced secretary. It was tempting to forget about the woman altogether, but this time (for perhaps the first time?) Noel had gotten past the golden doors of the Sanctuary and a little bit past the Secretary's desk before she remembered that she didn't know where she was going.
"Who can I talk to about this?" She held out a shrivel of what was once copy paper for Lisa's inspection.
The crumple of paper in Noel's hands stated in no unclear terms that little human Noel was not wanted in this part of town. Someone had actually taken the time to cut out magazine letters like a ransom note. It was ridiculous.
She'd seen her neighbors grow more and more scared each day, some were even forced out by a supposed raise in rent that Noel never witnessed. Had they really been threatened out all this time? She could only assume that she had sent her troubles away because until this, until there was physical proof of it, she couldn't remember getting hassled even once.
She'd enjoyed relative anonymity for some time.
It seemed her time as blissfully ignorant was past. If the secretary couldn't give her a name and number, she'd wipe them both and then wander around the Sanctuary until she found someone who did know. Maybe she should make a note of that before she forgot...
Dis. Tation. Orien. That was Calley’s one and only excuse for walking into the wall. To his credit, he only missed the actual doorway by a few inches.
He didn’t, in fact, miss the doorway at all. He walked through, peerless black kitten tail held high, as
he groaned on the ground behind him.
.hcuO
Suffice it to say: Calley was experimenting with his splinters, for the first time since King Pharmaceuticals. Like the rest of his ability, he was... noticing a few changes.
He rubbed his head, sitting up on the ground, and walked nose-first into the leg of the woman by the front desk. The little kitten sat down, blinking at a sudden wall of pants that had maybe been there before? maybe? had he noticed it? he thought he had, but obviously not. Further down the hallway, a tousled head of brown hair peeked around the edge of the cafeteria door. Baby blue eyes blinked, as they focused on the woman from a distance—
and from very much closer.
Both of them reeled slightly to the side where they sat, at the rather jarring overlap in perspectives.
“Sorry,” the boy said, as the black kitten opened its mouth in an apologetically sweet mrr. He (they) stood, and walked (walked back into the leg) over to the woman. He spied the note in her hand (the texture of her pant legs, a little too close to focus on), and a grin flashed over his (teeth). “Ah. So you live nearby, then. That, ah, may not be the best idea. As someone,” he tapped the paper (a fuzzy paw tapped her shoe), “has eloquently pointed out. Not to be confused with my own fine self, of course. Never would I be associated with such tomfoolery.” A nod (nod) emphasized this point (shoelaces really beg to be attacked, didn’t they?)
The woman behind the desk drew breath and already it tasted sour. A hand formed a wall between Noel and the secretary of screening. "Don't. This is the biggest mutant beacon in Queens and no one calls humans "humans" except non-hu..." Her huffy tirade was interrupted by a headbutt so small that by definition the tiny, furry act was cute. For now the headbutter leaned.
Frown.
“Sorry,” And thus appeared a brown haired almost-man. He was a boy still as evidenced by his rumples. He would grow into those shoulders and buy clothes that fit some day.
And there was a second headbutt. That kitty really wanted in her pants leg. Well he wasn't invited. Nor was the boy invited to see her paper. But they did anyway.
“Ah. So you live nearby, then. That, ah, may not be the best idea. As someone has eloquently pointed out." There was nothing new in that information. And nothing un-true.
"I don't see why I can't live where I want to live." And she was firm in this point. The paper, now useless, was handed to the boy. He may claim not to be associated with the "tomfoolery," but it was guilt by association. She wasn't impressed with his fine self and she didn't want the threat. She gave it to him so it was out of her hands.
She would pull the mutant card if she had to, but only if it was necessary... For some reason it was hard to convince people that her subtle talents actually existed. But until she had to prove herself....
"Why is your cat drunk?" There was very nearly a demand rather than a question. She looked at the perilously leaning kitten. It was sitting. Sort of. Entranced by the slithery laces of her cross trainers.
Calley blinked (mewed), and accepted the paper with all due politeness. He even gave it a proper study (paw batting), just to show that he was taking all of this very, very seriously. As seriously as it rightly deserved to be taken. Because this was serious, serious (shoelaces move! but they cannot escape...)
>> "I don't see why I can't live where I want to live."
She was firm on that point. “Umm,” Calley started, with all due wishy-washy-ness. “Have you ever heard of the food chain? Because, ah, let’s put it this way: most of the mutants around here haven’t exactly finished high school.” Like him, for (maul maul happy maul). “So their idea of the ‘food chain’ is a little off. But, umm, see, they put mutants up here—” A hand motion, rather above both of their heads. The kitten found itself scratching its ear. “And cute furry animals here—” About shoulder level. The kitten got back to its mauling. “And humans about—” The kitten rolled over, viciously kicking at the shoelace held captive above its furry belly. So did Calley.
Minus the shoelace.
Four blue eyes blinked up at the woman from the floor. This... was actually pretty comfortable, information-processing-wise. Except for the rather suddenness of it. And the ache in the back of his head. Floors. Oww.
>> "Why is your cat drunk?"
“I am not drunk,” Calley protested, flailing just a little. His head didn’t like that, though. Maybe he could just stay down here, for awhile? The kitten laid its ears back, its tail dangerously swash-buckling the floor. It had her shoelaces. Therefore, she had best retract her statement. Or—kick!—else.
If he hadn't dropped to the floor of his own accord after that food chain comment, violence would possibly have been in his future. The real question was why... why was he on the floor? He wasn't on fire... that she could tell. Her confusion saved him some hurt.
Meanwhile her shoelaces suffered in silence.
“I am not drunk,”
I. Not "my cat is not drunk." "I am not drunk."
Look to the fanged cuteness. Look to the boy who was trying to make the floor look cool. Look to the fluff. Look to the boy. Catmancer? Cat-man... how the heck was he the cat and the boy? Illusion?
Noel didn't exactly kick the kitten. It was more of a firm shake as she lifted her foot so that it might detach itself before she planted her foot on top of brown hair's soft middle (kitten or no kitten). "Who is at the top of the food chain now, Sarcasmo?"
Struggling just seemed to make the kitten attack her shoelaces harder. Because if it attacked harder, she would remove her foot, clearly impressed by the kitten’s ferocity. The boy’s brain begged to differ, but apparently his other self had a different view of events.
And Calley’s boy-self had found in the past
that staying very still
could ward off violence.
>> "Who is at the top of the food chain now, Sarcasmo?"
“You are, Sir. Ma’am.” Sir-Ma’am-Sir. Calley tried to look cute, and not worth her trouble to put more weight on. The kitten tried to skin her offending shoe alive.
Lisa went back to paperwork. She always was a kitten hater, that one.
"And don't you forget it." The sarcasm persisted. It was deeply engrained in this one. "Did no one bother to teach you proper manners?"
A snort echoed behind Noel. She'd forgotten about the secretary, but apparently she took issue with the idea of the boy possessing manners at all. That or it was the irony of Noel squishing a kitten while asking about proper social behavior. She let up on the pressure.
"How do I make the threats stop?" She would have pointed to the paper if he weren't rolling on it. She was going to have to buy new shoelaces after this. Possibly new running shoes. Kitten claws were sharp.
Noel was no fool. She came prepared to run if there was issue. So far fighting was a bit more satisfying than flighting.
Calley was rapidly realizing that he was the worst Order member ever. Err, for fighting. Clearly he was still superior at many other things, like, for example—
Oooh thank you she was letting up on the foot. His stomach felt less inclined to revolt, now. The kitten, in fair turn, sat stoically back, its large pupils keeping watch in front while its tail kept a swinging vigil in back.
>> "Did no one bother to teach you proper manners?"
“No, Ma’am.” Calley replied, with the utmost of floor-based sincerity. “Most people are under the impression that I can’t be taught.”
>> "How do I make the threats stop?"
That was a very good question. “Umm, you could die, Ma’am.” Different options? Yes, different options. “Or, you know, move. Maybe pretty far across town. Or grow an X-gene.” These were not satisfying options, were they? No. Not so much. “Or—oh! You could take her job!”
A kitten head flicked towards Lisa. Because Calley was still staying very, very still.
Could a cat-boy be taught? She supposed all animals could learn to some degree, but cats did seemed the least trainable of all domestic creatures. Maybe his human self could learn. Oh, wait, his mutant self. That sort of dimmed the idea. Especially after his high school pep talk.
For the dead comment he got a bit more pressure. For the honesty, he got less. In the end it evened out. She did not remove her foot. "Drop the sir." It was as kind as a growl could be, but it was still a growl.
"I'm not after her job. I already have one." And she was good at it too. Well, as good as her disability allowed. "And I already have a home. It needs to be that home." Because she'd had the address tattooed on her body in case she forgot. She wasn't going to move for just any old reason.
"And if I've sprouted an x-gene now or ten years ago it wouldn't matter. I'm still being harassed. So if I let you up, you're going to help me end this." Because he knew something. He had to. The mutants in this town had their own secret societies and snuggies and all knew each other. He was one of them. He had to know something.
“It is dropped.” Dropped like a growl from a height. Baby blue eyes blinked innocently upwards. “Ma’am.”
>> "I'm not after her job. I already have one."
“That is good for you, Ma’am.” He soothed. The kitten patted at her shoe with one light paw.
>> "And I already have a home. It needs to be that home."
“And a nice home it is, I’m sure. I can see your dilemma. A dilemma-like dilemma it is, indeed. The having to maybe-not-probably move.” Pat, pat. Blink, nod.
>> "And if I've sprouted an x-gene now or ten years ago it wouldn't matter. I'm still being harassed. So if I let you up, you're going to help me end this."
“Of course, Ma’am. It would be my most sincere and hearty pleasure to do so. We can resolve this like civilized bipeds.” Not that he actually knew many of those, nor that he qualified as one most of the time. Which was maybe the point.
The second that foot came up, he and the kitten were going to bolt. Since it was in the same direction, they might theoretically make it. Where, he was not sure. Away from the Ma’am-Sir was as good a direction as any.
“No harassment necessary,” he added for good measure, from under her shoe. And what a fine shoe it was. “Ma’am.”
She wanted to let him up if for no other reason than to knock him down properly, with her own hands.
Old corn with a hint of soured water. She wasn't entirely sure what part was the lie, but it was there. Nestled in the sarcasm. "Don't lie to me."
My, she was being demanding, but he was being the little obnoxious thorn in her lion's paw. That meant she got to be a lion. Though it did feel like she was picking on him a little.
Sigh. Noel picked up her foot, but on a whim reached down and attempted to snatch up the kitten by the scruff of his neck. No harassment necessary, indeed.
“You—what—I—monster!” Calley sputtered, with all due indignity, from the opposite wall. He hadn’t run into it, thank you. He’d run as far as it, when the half of him that wasn’t running finally realized that its paws were failing in empty air. Empty, mean, bully-like air. Catnapped! Worse: kittennapped!
“You just—you can’t—!” He pressed the safer half of himself against the wall, and pointed an indignant finger across the room towards the villainous female.
Lisa curled manicured fingernails the phone receiver, and gave him the look. “Keep it down, or take it elsewhere.”
“But—!”
The look.
“She—!”
Narrowed-eyes version.
The brown-haired boy whimpered against his wall, and turned wibbly eyes upon his one-half kidnapper. His other self struggled vainly in her hands. Which was really not helping his balance, actually. It was... a little... dizzifying. Could he just—stop that? Maybe? Calley found himself sliding down the wall, blinking most unpleasantly. The kitten went limp, with a nauseated cough. Or was that him?
“I’m sorry,” Lisa said into her phone, gushing enough sweetness to make anyone vomit, “could you say that again? I couldn’t quite hear you.”
Did she blindfold it? Give it a last cigarette or something? "I really don't want to have to hurt this thing." Or adopt it. In fact, adopting it might be worse. "But we seem to be at an impasse." More like he was a rock and she had a cute little furry sledgehammer in her hands. She just had to get the gumption to use it.
"Are you going to help me? And actually be helpful rather than ma'am-siring and dilemma-like-dilemma lies and sarcasm? Because I can start squeezing..." Had she really stooped as low as strangling kittens to keep her apartment?
Apparently so.
Frown at the struggly kitten. Frown at the boy. Really. He'd better speak up. She was sincere when she said that she didn't want to have to do it.
“I am not being sarcastic!” Calley protested, with somewhat less vigor than the exclamation point might imply. He tried closing his eyes. Did that help? Yes. Yes, that most distinctly helped. The kitten’s senses were a lot sharper. Let them go ahead and overlay his own. That was... less sickness-inducing, at the moment. As for the sarcasm: he wasn’t. Or rather, he wasn’t trying. That was just how he always talked. Particularly to people who may or may not pick him up by the throat, stab a knife between his fingers, tear off his tail, or induce small-scale flashbacks.
“You are a bad person! I hope you do move.” That was most certainly and definitely the truth. The kitten added a plaintive mew to that. Meanie.
She was a little sore that he didn't want to help her, but given the circumstances she could hardly blame him. The truth of his words hit home. She was a bad person? Noel looked at the kitten and it mewled a plaintive yes. Mind you, that was the kitten she had considered strangling. A scratch on the ear might be insult to injury but it was worth a shot. Stupid boy being stupid right.
Another sigh. She probably was just taking it out on this stupid kid who had nothing to do with anything. She had deluded herself into thinking that something could be done.
"Tell them I'm not going." It was a limp demand, but as long as they didn't send more than one at a time she could send them away. She was tempted to keep the kitten... ransom or something like that. Was that more bullying? Was that how you beat bullying? With more bullying? They just kind of cancelled out?
Before she had been in the right and had been full of purpose. Now he'd deflated her whole righteous anger thing. Slowly she lowered the kitten to the ground.
