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.
It had been sunny that day. Warmth had stood in the air like a person to talk to, creeping through every crack and crevice. It had invaded every house and every street. Sometimes there had been resistance, but progress had, at large, been unimpeded. The air had been flirring, cutting sabres, drawing things out like snakes in the distance. A mess of snakes coiling around themselves. Granny knew these things. She had seen a lot of summers. Had been through a lot of summers. Late summers even. She had seen the great droughts and the great floods of almost a hundred years and according to that measure, this summer fell short of anything but being mildly irritating. Nothing more than something you could remark upon in polite conversation.
The flowers of the Mansion garden had taken to the sun beautifully. A plethora of fragrances wafted through open windows opened in the early evenings to catch the beginnings cool of the night. She wore light summer dresses, linen even, laid in artistic rumples. Summer was a time to remove some old habits and maybe shock the staff of the mansion (and the students) with another oddity that the old lady was so apt at pulling out of her nonexistent cylinder. A black, shiny cylinder she could call her own indeed. Though it was a relic of some chance meeting with a man earlier in her life. Back when these things were actually worn. And back when she had been what was called a vamp today. (Also she had been, as a teenage girl would now say haaaawt. And still was. And no, not because of the weather.)
The heat had had another beautiful effect. It subdued most of the more irate students and led to many a time of lounging and grilling at the residencies pool, which became one of the pivotal points of life during the summer months. She herself had gone swimming with a nice feathery protective cap earlier that day to the greater disappointment of students who hurriedly left the vicinity. Possibly to their respective classes. Hopefully they had. She would check later. Infamy had its benefits she rather consistently found out. Also if you were a Dragon Woman with green telekinesis, sometimes people tended to stay clear of your bad side. That apparently included vacating nice spots in the pool for her.
At the pool she lay now in her modest bathing suit. (She had found a great online shop that sold nice items for people not willing to display themselves in a bikini.) And she was surprised by the light. The horizon suddenly turned bright-white. So much light there was that she had to turn around immediately, lest her eyesight be damaged. Already they stung with a fierceness that she would remember till the end of her days. And it was not because of the brightness. It was because she knew what that light was. She knew from newspapers articles read a long, long time ago. She knew from Vietnam. From her Army training. From seeing pictures of the City of Hiroshima, which the youth around her did not recall. She knew. And she cried as she wrapped herself in her protective bubble, anticipating the first shock wave to come.
The end had come. It was nuclear.
Profile? Look here young man. You might learn something. Archive Me!
The End had come and gone. Just another day. Her dress was immaculate. She was not even carrying around a bruise. Things might have somehow smelled different of the stench of the burning city on the skyline had been pushed towards the Mansion. It had not. If the streets full of abandoned or damaged cars had reached to the front gate. Yet they had not. Things still smelled beatifically in the mansion garden, but those notes had soured to her nose. The flowers would have to go insofar they were not of the edible variety. They would have to go soon. Maybe she would be able to ask one of the kids with a fire mutation to do that job. Afterward the ground needed turning. Then the seeds would come.
But the room they had was not big enough, considering that they would need to shift to a form of economy that had not been seen in the 2000s except in some of the bleakest regions in Africa. Subsistence. A word that even she had nothing much to relate to except pictures of her old home. Memories of the time-before-the-time. Some people would have to go. Some already had. Some even had left on their legs. Others had died as the building was damaged by the blast wave. Things that she had escaped by using her powers of protection. Almost instinctive that reaction had been, instilled during training in a black ops unit that the military still denied knowing the existence of. Had denied. Now probably no one still knew.
Somehow the end of your world did little to change your perspectives. The ones of decades at least.
The attack came not quite unpredicted. People of the Mansion had been milling around trying to prepare for a few days at least. The old Lady had done a bit. Cooked food that would keep a long while in backpacks. Prepared stores of nonperishables in the lower levels. Helped carry things by ordering them around and generally organizing a post-apocalyptic horde of teenagers that were in shock. In all it did not differ substantially from her usual occupation. And the attack still came as a shock.
She was one of the last ones to enter the lower levels, the tunnels made for just this case – not the end of the world, but that of an attack with overwhelming force. She went as one of the last, because where she went, the tunnel was sealed by a barrier of green light behind her. No she had decided. These people would not get her children. Not if she could help it. Not a single one. What would happen after they left her care was another matter, but here she could still put her old bones to some use. And she would. No one passed her that night. Two men tried. Died.
Old Soldiers might not be bold, she told her astonished students, but they are still soldiers.
Profile? Look here young man. You might learn something. Archive Me!
