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.
Posted by Martin Stein on Jul 26, 2009 11:18:07 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
760
0
Jul 2, 2013 5:22:49 GMT -6
Another day of working as a barkeeper had left him with a whole set of new stories to tell. That was if he wanted to repeat the musical sounds of Gaelic he had heard all evening and which were still ringing in his ears. By now he could tell, what of it was an order and guess at the thing the person wanted, but the reason those people could not stop talking to their barkeeper in their native language, his bewildered facial expression should have been eloquent at revealing their misconception about his linguistic aptitude, was something that eluded him. Apparently it was quite traditional in Ireland, maybe even everywhere else, for men of all generations to share their troubles with the person serving them what some people would consider preservative agents already in appropriate amounts. And the storm on his sensed did not end with continuing to resupply, but rather increased in notoriety. Just telling them to shut up was not an option, was it? Sadly not.
He had concluded, the compensation for such sensory attack was simply not sufficient for the task at hand and therefore left his job early. The excuse made, or rather the fact that he made an excuse, to his employer had left the old man standing dazed in a corner. His silence was interpreted as agreement to Martins proposal. Another possible reason for the Irishman slightly changed speech patterns might just be found in the contents of the glass of golden liquid caressed by his hands. Martin did not care. Martin simply left. Judging by the growing pain in his temples, his leave had not been taken early enough. “If they could sell something, it better be something less aggressive.” He mumbled more to himself then anyone else as he left the Pub. Thankfully the way home was quiet. Blissfully quiet.
After thoroughly rinsing off the smell of tobacco from his body with a stream of mildly warmed water -it was what most people would consider lukewarm, barely enough to make a difference from the bodies own temperature-, he left this world for a one of dreams in hope to find rest and refreshment in a place where Irish and other petty troubles would leave him alone.
I fear you are mistaken. Why. Its cause you made a mistake. Where? There! Are you stupid? What is wrong there? You are stupid. Leave me alone. No I cant trust someone like you to get along well on their own. Just leave me be stupid. Oh no the stupid one is you.
The white ceiling lit with a streak of light from a window was spinning in circles overhead when he awoke, snapped open his eyes, only to close them again, the weird dream fading away as quickly as it had crept out of the depths of his subconscious mind. Watching like this turned his stomach around as quickly as the light was spinning, cold sweat starting to form on every square inch of his body as it was devastated by a current of faintness rolling over him like a tidal wave. He rubbed his eyes and took a deep breath. His fingers felt warm on his face. Then he proceeded by resting them on the cover of the bed. It was a thick blanket. And something was not right. He simply felt strange sensations from all over his body. A tingling. Rubbing. It was a giant irritating itch he had to face solely under his covers in which his face was buried. There was no time for wrongness right now. His whole body felt like it was ready to explode on him. If not the whole thing, then maybe just his stomach. Yep. It was his stomach. Sending the covers flying with one hand, he jumped up for a trip to the bathroom. Just keep the eyes closed. No more spinning Martin. Then it'll get better soon.
A few insecure steps and the banging of a door later, he found that his surroundings had cooled down a good bit. But the draft that hit him was nothing that he would expect in his bathroom. It was after all without windows. The terrified screech of a girl was another thing that said very clearly -much more so then the sudden quiet in his stomach- that there was something wrong. Very wrong. He opened his eyes and concluded one thing: This was not his home.
Blink.
His home did not have long floors with many wooden doors. In fact there was not as much wood found to be in his entire home then the amount he was presented with in this hallway. The rooms of his apartment were also devoid of little girls like the one standing in front of him now, with her hands clasped tightly across her eyes. The rest of her skin that was visible below that had turned bright red. Embarrassment? Why would he be embarrassed? And much more importantly: What was going on?
Blink.
Thoughts just evaded him at the moment. Clear ones anyways. There were just two focal points. Where was he? What was going on? Those two chased each other round his mind, spinning. Spinning. Round. Circles.
The long silence prompted the girl to look between her fingers and with another terrified screech that sounded something like: “Koga will you get inside your room?” She put the hands down from her eyes, keeping them tightly closed. Her face was crimson in color. My these young ones really turn red on every occasion, don't they? And then she – at least he was quite sure that it was her- pushed him back with an invisible force. Pushed him back into his room and slammed the door shut with some finality.
Blink.
What is going on? Where am I?
It was only the cold of the air that finally made him change his stance. He could feel the numbing loss of warmth creep up his spine intent on reaching the center of his higher functions. Bathroom. He had wanted to go to the bathroom. Higher and higher up it went, while he fumbled at the doorknob. His movements became slower and slower. Why don't I just sleep for a little while? He finally managed to open the locking mechanism and somehow stumbled inside the shower, where a jet of warmth slowly drove back the fog from his mind, outward. Had he just really turned on that water? His mind was clear only after some time of rising and the room full of a dense white fog that obscured all view and made the air taste watery. Stepping out of the shower and in front of the mirror, he wiped it clean with one hand.
Blink.
Reptile eyes were looking at him from a white background. No body was discernible besides the pupils.
Blink.
“Sh*t!” It was a boys voice that loudly voiced his disagreement with the current situation. What was that by the way?
Posted by Martin Stein on Aug 4, 2009 5:37:21 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
760
0
Jul 2, 2013 5:22:49 GMT -6
He passed through the first sages surprisingly quickly, maybe he had danced on too many already, practiced cold glossing over them with a thin layer of ice, for it was as a cold storm that hit rain. All that remained was snow falling on his heart. What remained was the odd feeling that he was staring at different yes from a different persons body. Completely different. He even had other powers then the ones his corpus carried around with them, one might even call them his burden. That and the whiteness of his limbs turned his mind light. Lighter. Upwards. Dare to touch the subject? No more danger, no skin no danger after all. No more confused dates. Those were his two biggest hopes, the brightest lights that shone in his mind. And yet he dimmed them by choice. Who needed ope after all, when he had facts to rely on. It was after all another persons body. -How had this come to pass again? Just omit what you cant answer- Another persons life, both of which he had of his own. His own demons that came to hunt him. Just too much snow for a single branch to support. It was only a matter of time now.
Stepping out of the bathroom he did observe his color shifting skin cycle rapidly through iridescent stages of recoloring, spots appearing under his skin, contracting, pulsing in all conceivable color in nature. And then he was just. Plain. He had taken the hue of the wall behind him. Is that really me? Idiot. You know its not. And now get it dressed. Its physique was vulnerable to cold it seemed. A fact he had to remember well if he did not want to fall asleep in uncomfortable situations. Ten minutes and several emptied drawers later he had found an attire the he deemed fitting this body and did not -as the first of many vividly colored items this body apparently possessed- make him turn green. Bright green that is to say. He had to conclude, Nature had never intended any body to wear that color. That was after he had taken a look into the bathroom mirror he cleaned for no other purpose. Really? Didn't want to know how you look? Not looking at your young new self? Carefree? Envy? Vanity? Never.
He slammed the door shut behind him, the banging sound being quite satisfactory, having settled on the most modest pieces of clothing available to him here, a plain blue jeans and a dress shirt. Slammed the door shut that lead to a room that which had a floor filled with the disregarded pieces of attire. He would have to clean it up. And store the green things in some safe distance from any living being. The green was evil after all. Whats next? It could be Saturday, so this body should not have to attend to any schedule. That meant there was much time to wander around, finding out where he was and where he had to go. Time to avoid making decisions that would have to be amde a tsome point. And maybe start some research about the whereabouts of his real self. (Did he really want to do that?) He was sure that it remained somewhere. Maybe. Hopefully. Not? Continued in "Welcome to wherever...this is"
Posted by Martin Stein on Aug 20, 2009 12:34:32 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
760
0
Jul 2, 2013 5:22:49 GMT -6
Another tour of the buildings grounds had left him stranded outside. All he could find were windows that nearly went down to ground level and lured him with the stories of other peoples rooms and secrets. What he could find out in one of these rooms maybe he would recognize a familiar room and be able to find his way back inside from that..... He stretched high on his small feet, but he was not tall enough to be able to see through the window quite yet. Using his hand on the windowsill, he lifted himself up in the air a good part, just to find rows of chairs waiting for him there, waiting for any student willing to take a seat in one of the classes. Classroom. Naturally. He visibly slumped down. Jumped down, or rather had, if his hand would have let go from the windowsill he had set it on to help bear what little weight he had. What was this? Unless someone had covered that stone in super glue his had was sticking to it on its own. He stared at it in concentration. It was feeling quite right this way. How quite unusual. And seeing the fact that it was not inclined to stop, defying all attempts at pulling loose, Martin, that was Koga, did the only sensible thing. He tried to pull harder, resting his other hand on the stone for leverage. And finally. His hand was freed from its prison, letting go without making a noise.
Martin smiled. He was freed from the prison. But what was this? Instead of his left, his right was now firmly attached to the wall of the building. Another fit of pulling ended with his right freed and his left attached at shoulder height. Oh no! Some god, some demon, something, had to be responsible, as one appendage, no matter how hard he tried at prying them loose, would remain affixed in position on the wall of the building. Dropping his shoes to the ground with fumbling movements of his still-free appendages he began climbing the building. -His feet now joining into the fray of ickily sticky protrusions- Seriously, what else could he have done? Walked around like that? Maybe rolled around along the wall? And why did this still all feel so natural? Now he was stuck on the outside in turn, waiting for other surprises his body might have had in store for him. And behind him the sun was setting, rapidly cooling down the late summer air, draining him of precious warmth.
While he was musing about all possibilities offered to him by a particularly interesting set of red curtains draped in front of a window, tiredness crept onto him. He realized that this must be a living area, which meant people could answer him questions -the most important of course being where to go to his room-, once he got inside. He continued his pursuit with fresh energy, pushing back his acing muscles to the sides of his self. As he had reached the 3rd floor windows he began feeling dizzy again. He knew that behind those windows there was warm, oh so freshly warm air he needed, that he just had to find an open one and get in, to revel in the energy of higher body temperature. Forcing his heavy arms to move, he got as far as the nearest window, which was to his luck, halfway opened with warm air rushing out from inside. Air and a song. He just pushed it open with the last of his remaining energy and crept in. He was so tired, he wasnt even surprised any more that his hands and fet were easily removed from any surface.
Posted by Martin Stein on Aug 29, 2009 14:49:22 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
760
0
Jul 2, 2013 5:22:49 GMT -6
While he was musing about all possibilities offered to him by a particularly interesting set of red curtains draped in front of a window, tiredness crept onto him. He realized that this must be a living area, which meant people could answer him questions -the most important of course being where to go to his room-, once he got inside. He continued his pursuit with fresh energy, pushing back his acing muscles to the sides of his self. As he had reached the 3rd floor windows he began feeling dizzy again. He knew that behind those windows there was warm, oh so freshly warm air he needed, that he just had to find an open one and get in, to revel in the energy of higher body temperature. Forcing his heavy arms to move, he got as far as the nearest window, which was to his luck, halfway opened with warm air rushing out from inside. Air and a song. He just pushed it open with the last of his remaining energy and crept in. He was so tired, he wasn't even surprised any more that his hands and feet were easily removed from any surface.
Kathleen Raynolds was once considered a very ordinary girl. Back when she was five. Afterwards? Well... Afterwards her life had taken more or less serious turns down a weird and difficult road. Or to be frank: Kathleen Raynolds was a mutant. Her story was an ordinary one. When she was five and her father had yelled at her in a typical domestic dispute involving words about stupid little brats that should not be repeated in script, she threw a vase at him. More out of fear for his loud voice then of understanding or anger, but she threw. -Her mother would later tell the tale, with it being the vase her husband had given her for a wedding gift- Threw it not with her hands, but with something else. And it hit his back quite firmly, shattering into a million little pieces that dug into his back, intent of carrying on their momentum until they reached their destination. That day was the first time she broke a boys heart. Years later she was sent to the Xaviers Institute in hopes of achieving better control over her powers. It was a very common story indeed.
Kathleen Raynolds was just showering after a hard day that had entailed chasing away little half-naked boys from hallways. My she was happy that she was back in her room again. Away from boys. Why did they always have to show off their chests? Even teachers couldn't refrain from exposing themselves to the world. Why did they not have any sense of decency at all? And they did not only lack decency. They lacked humor and understanding and... She slammed the fauced shut with considerable force, only to feel the temperature of the water she was being showered with change to flesh-blistering hot. She desperately fumbled at the other one of the pair that made up the aperture, the one that caused her suffering, the one that made her want to scream, only to feel her fingers glide off the smooth metal surface. “Aaaaaargh”Scrap want.
A few minutes later, a young girl was walking out of her nebulous bathroom into her room slightly reddened. She turned around to the window and rested her arms on the windowsill, for the evening breeze did wonders to cool her damaged limbs, so she remained on her lookout post until the throbbing in her arms reduced to a mere tingling sensation and she felt ready to let her skin be touched by her nightgown without fear of it retaliating on her. Another few minutes and a hummed song later, she withdrew the blanked from her bed.
Stared with wide eyes at what she found.
Her skin burnt.
Harshly.
“AAAAAAAAAAAA!” The screaming just barely managed to penetrate the sleepers mind. It was off to realms unknown and unheard of. The realms of lizards and snakes. Dreaming. He was stalking the wide green. Living things about him, all around him. They were green. The color of life. Breathing around him in moisture. Warmth, reveling. Life flowers. Blooms growing in a flowerbed. He was tending to them with his bare hands. Where had he just left his shovel? Red roses crying. Oh the warmth was too much. Drowning in their sharp leaved blood.
He was washed over by a wave of warmth that ended the probably strangest dream he ever had. His mind was still spinning, in disoriented sleepy confusion, as he was hit again. This time not by a wave of dripping warmth, but by something that stabbed his mind with pain. His mind snapped together as he rolled of the dripping wet bed he had just been lying on. Rolled on the floor only to get up into a crouched position, eyes checking the room for the reason of his pain. The body was secondary. First remove the imminent danger, then take care of yourself. He was sharp. And the half naked girl was barely to be overlooked. She had her hands raised in a manner that was more threatening then protective. He just stared, bedazzled by the look on her face. He was like a stag staring into headlights. He was blinded.
And he was a stag tossed out of the window like a doll. The closed window mind you. This time he had no trouble with himself sticking on walls.
“Ryuichi Koga, if I see your sorry hide anytime again....” Was the last sound he heard before he crashed into the ground in a shower of glass.
BANG. As the door slammed shut another time for the day, he jumped unto the bed and buried his face in the covers, wincing as the barely closed cuts on his body opened again. This was just bad. He had to get rid of this body, before he went mad. Why of all people had he land in a teenagers body? Why of all things was he punished like this? What remained was the question of how to accomplish the feat of leaving it behind. He was quite unsure about this boys physiology for it apparently encompassed reptilian elements for which he did neither have a name nor the incentive to look up. He had gotten into this body somehow. Now it was just a matter of finding out the means and reversing them.
Posted by Martin Stein on Oct 12, 2009 17:08:17 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
760
0
Jul 2, 2013 5:22:49 GMT -6
Day 2: A time mancer. Out of time. A new experience every day, that was what this body held for him. Out of time. Such an alien concept. His head hurt from just looking at the movement of the clocks. So steady. Meteronomes beating the pace of life in every room and every corner. Little dictartor intent on ruling your life just by making you accept what they show you. He loathed them. Watches. Clocks. Computers. They all depended on time, showed time, decided the pace of your life. He wouldnt allow it. But his body had him allow it. If the sun went down and he was tired he went to sleep. And so he slept. Thats how it had been in his old form anyways. But now this little corpus had to be taken care of. Morning ringing of bells and clocks. It was just a liiiiiittle bit of loathing with which he started his days. Tiny bits of anger, that accumulated with every ticking malica along his way to what? Classes? They probably wouldnt be able to teach him anyways. And then there were clocks in any room. They stared down at him through their translucent covers. Laughed at his inability to cope with their steady movement. Abd he did actually have to sit through boring lectures. Such a hassle. Such a different set of abilities. Youd loathe it too, wouldnt you? Youd hate to have your own body ripped away from your gentle-or not so gentle- care only to find yourself surrounded by screaming kids. And watches. Clocks. Loathing. He wanted a change of pace. NOW.
Day 5: Today he had avoided a young telecinetic barely by hiding in a classroom. Had tried to hide. Failed. The room was in use at the moment of his unwarranted and slightly unwanted entry. So the teacher wasnt hppy with him. Who cared? he did. In a way. Because he was made clean up the mess that the -unfortunaly he had caught the labroom with a quite easily scared teacher in it- teacher had made on the floor. Made because of him storming into the room and knocking him over. The scared teen had even dared to reflexively cling to the amns throat looking for something to hold on to. The fact that the teacher had turned blue migt not have helped the fact that he now had to... oh well. Not again. It was yellow. Like pee. But it did not smell like pee. It did not behave like pee. it was worse then anything he had ever encountered. And it was all her fault. Inluding things on ships that would have made most people quite sickly. Loathing. Loathing a teengers life he had to live. Loathing a young telecinetic who threw things at him. And him at things. She had actually managed to hurt a grown mans dignity. By just shoving him out of a 3rd story window. How nice.
Was forced to live by his inptness at discerning and undoing the cause of this sudden shift in forms. He was just inadequate intellectually. As was this body physically. He loathed this teenagers life. And he casually ruined it along the way.
