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 was a beautiful evening in Central Park, and barely anybody was out. It had been a quiet Sunday afternoon, and everybody had been indoors due to the on-and-off weather. It was unusual for a New York area to be void of passer-by's, so there were ofcourse the random couples or solitary figures who silently trudged through the peaceful park. It was twilight time, so the sun was setting as the moon rose, the result being a gray light that loomed over everyone. The clouds were gone and the skies clear and dark, although still light enough to show that it wasn't night.
Sitting on a lonely park bench was a girl, tall and blonde with delicate facial features. She was very beautiful, although that wasn't what truly mattered to her currently. She was surrounded by cats, mostly strays, and was feeding each one as she had a coversation with them. Now that was the most unusual thing, for speaking with animals could only mean one of two things. Either the girl was insane, or she was a mutant. The latter option was correct, and as her mind translated what the felines said just as it would any human language she knew, she replied with her unnatural vocal cords' replication of the cat language. It sounded perfect, although she messed up a few words.
Most would look down upon speaking with animals, especially stray cats. However, aside from mice, they knew the most about New York. You always saw cats, whether in an alley or a shop's windowsill. And an important thing to know was that they gossiped, and when something was going on a cat would know about it. Therefore, in exchange for knowledge, the girl who's name was Alexis would give food to the cats. Most of the time she didn't even care about what they said, and just listened to please them. It was knowing that she was helping that really made the difference.
Alexis looked down at the graceful animals with a serene smile, noting how amazing it must be to be a cat. Although she could take on their balance and perception, she couldn't truly become one. With a sigh, she smiled as more cats came. They all knew about the "Twilight Speaker", a name shehad been given by the gossiping felines. It was this that she was known as by them, simply because every day, as the serene grayness came over the city, the same girl would sit at the same bench and give food out to the strays. Not only was she kind, but she could speak their language too and communicate with them. They weren't judgemental folk, and therefore didn't really care for the fact that she was a mutant. Just the fact that she was there was all that mattered.
Suddenly, Alexis wondered if any of the cats were mutants too. Afterall, if she could talk with them, why couldn't someone else be them? There was no reason why not. So, thinking if any would know it'd be the cats, Alexis spoke in their feral tongue, her voice sweet and soft.
It was a beautiful evening in Central Park, and only the cool kids were out. It had been a quiet Sunday afternoon, and everybody had been indoors because they couldn't take a light drenching now and then. Pfft. Calley had been outside since three in the morning. That, folks, is three AM; pre-Sun-rising. Why? No real reason. It's just that it was spring. Spring. Glorious wonderful Spring. There had been a big bright moon last night, hanging right outside of his window, and it had felt like if he'd leaned out just a little further he'd be able to grab it. There had been a black sky like you wouldn't believe, somewhere high up above all the New York street lights; he hadn't actually seen that one, but he could feel it. He hadn't been able to sleep. Who needed sleep? It was Spring.
He twitched along now, with a jog in his step. Or maybe it was the other way around. In any case, he still had energy to burn. And another thing: he wasn't hungry. He'd eaten three normal meals and a multitude of impulse snacks at fast food joints and stands and carts throughout the day, and now he wasn't hungry. This wouldn't be a big deal, if he hadn't spent most of the Winter trying not to starve to death. He hadn't know why he was loosing weight then, and he didn't know why he was gaining weight now. He wasn't complaining about the turn-around, though. Plus, for bonus super happy footnote points, he had his energy back. His full, glorious, who-needs-sleep-when-you-can-have-irregular-cat-naps energy.
He was wearing a pair of been-worn-all-day blue jeans, a white T-shirt that was leaving his arms free to collect goose bumps, and--it went without saying--a slate gray scarf tucked snuggly around his neck. A very wet slate gray scarf. Slate gray scarves were not very forgiving about light drenchings, and Calley hadn't exactly been ducking into shops to escape the on-and-off rain. Spring rain running through his hair, and speckling his bare arms? Com'on. You couldn't get better than--
"Mrrrrrr." A tortoiseshell queen walked right in front of him, clearly indicating that she had right-of-way on this pathway with her flag-mast tail. Calley gahed instinctively, and recoiled. He knew that queen. That queen had personally stolen a kill from him and chased him no less than two New York city blocks. It had been two years ago, sure, and he'd been a barely functioning little white collection of cat fur and bones with black spots here and there, but still: two blocks. Two New York city blocks. Yeah, he'd been on her turf, and yeah, she'd been raising a collection of mewling hellspawn (read: kittens), but two city blocks takes more than defensiveness: it takes concentrated malice and intent to terribly horribly maim.
She didn't recognize him. His smell was different now and, just as a minor point-of-fact, he was currently bipedal. He still shuddered as she strutted ahead of him on the path like Lilith on her way to give Adam the finger. Calley followed her vile saunter to its destination: a park bench.
Sitting on that park bench was a girl. Tall. Blonde. Pretty to look at, if you looked at women and had thoughts like that. More importantly: she was fast on her way to becoming the next cat lady. So. Many. Cats. Young toms Calley had learned to fight with; old toms who had given him several sharp reasons to learn; queens of all ages, breeds, and coloring who had taught him that when kittens were afoot, he'd best just run. Strays, apartment dwellers, and vagabonds: cats. And a tall blonde pretty woman meowing at them. Calley stood on point. If he'd had movable ears right now, they'd be perked. It was hard to tell the woman's voice from the cats'. And by hard, he meant impossible. At least to his human ears, those sounds were perfect cattish. Not that Calley himself had ever spoken cattish, nor had he ever stopped to wonder if there was an actual cattish. He just mimed what others did, and it seemed plenty good to get by. He did not hear the question, "Are there any cats who are humans also?", as anything more than noise: even if he'd been in cat form, he'd have only maybe gotten the meaning. Not the words.
The tortoiseshell queen lovingly twined around the girl's legs like an expensive street corner businesswoman. She wasn't the only one who knew the answer, but she was one of first to reply, with a purr and an uptilted chin that invited scritching fingers: "Oh. Oh yes. Several, and sometimes none. What food did you bring? I love you; I love your food."
Calley cleared his throat delicately, and located his voice in the usual location: his vocal chords. "Good evening, Miss. That's, umm, quite the clutter." Clutter being the proper word for a group of cats, you understand.
Alexis listened to the beautiful tortoiseshell queen speak, the feline's words like silk. She then wondered how all would turn out. She was searching for a fellow mutant and here she was with a clutter of cats. If she could only find one of these said shape-shifters, she'd be able to learn more about the mutants. As it was she had stayed away from the whole Mutant Bill scandal, having not used her powers openly. The only place she practiced was in the forests out and away from the city.
As Alexis heard another voice, it took her a moment to realize it wasn't feline, but human. It sounded like a male, and as she looked up she saw a boy just a little shorter than her with beautiful baby blue eyes. Alexis smiled politely and scooted over in her seat a little, not enough to deter him but just enough to give him room. After her brain flicked back to processing English she smiled and chuckled a little as she nodded her head. Then, a moment later Alexis spoke, her voice calm and sweet.
"Ah yes, you could say they're naturally drawn to me. Must be my way with words."
Alexis wouldn't realize until later that she liked the boy and was flirting, although at the moment her focus was on who he was. She didn't really think much about doing something like checking to see if he was a human or one of those awful robot-things; too much was on her mind.
Suddenly, Alexis looked down as she heard a cat tell her to introduce herself. The thought hadn't come to her before, and with a gentle smile she raised her hand and offered it to the boy as she spoke again, a laugh on the tip of her tongue.
"I'm Alexis, Alexis Roberts. You?"
The girl looked down to the cat that had spoken and smiled, silently thanking the little creature for it's support. She was then instinctively drawn to listening to them as she looked back up at Calley. Her mind processed a few things they said, most telling her to 'Kiss the boy'. It was an absurd thought to kiss someone when one had just met the person, although the advice was coming from creatures who licked her private parts and spat up hairballs. Not the best relationship consultants, although they'd do.
Calley smiled uneasily back at the young woman's polite smile, taking a step forward and then stopping as she shifted to give him room on the bench. There was something distinctly abnormal going on here: the phrase "like herding cats" was around for a reason, and it wasn't because the task was so easy. That the little miss over there had gotten herself surrounded by a clutter that would normally be off and about their own business meant something. He didn't know quite what yet, but he was leaning towards "she's a mutant". Frankly, Calley's track record with his fellow mutants wasn't so hot. He could think of six mutants he liked: Abyss, Katrina, Issie, Iris, Kitra, and the Wonderful Love of His Life (aka Amp). He could think of thirty-seven who didn't particularly seem to like him. At least three of those had escalated things to the point of unprovoked physical violence. To repeat: entirely unprovoked.
Sitting on a park bench within easy grabbing and/or stabbing range didn't sound so hot to him, especially since the only powers the Boss Man allowed him to show were his tiger shift and his healing. A tiger shift in Central Park? Not exactly the best way to avoid the Camps. Which effectively left him defenseless. If it came to using the healing, he was in trouble already.
The way the girl kept looking to the cats and getting all glassy-eyed before turning back to him wasn't helping his suspicions.
> "Ah yes, you could say they're naturally drawn to me. Must be my way with words."
Neither was that typically cryptic statement.
> "I'm Alexis, Alexis Roberts. You?"
"I would be Calley." Calley bobbed his head. "Nice to meet you, Miss Roberts. And, umm, all of your friends. Are you feeding them? 'Cause I can't think of any other reason so many cats would gather in one place. Not many reasons, anyway. I hope I'm not bothering you by asking. Or bothering you, in general."
Aaaaand she was lookin' at the cats and smiling. Yep. Either a mutant, or off her rocker.
The tortoiseshell queen noted that both her question concerning the food and the honorary invitation to scritch her chin had been ignored; with an unconcerned curling of her tail, she sat just a hair's breadth inside of arm's reach on the ground, and began grooming at her chest. "Yes, kiss the boy. You always have food. You could provide well for your kittens. They would grow fast and large, and their fur would be sleek with the fat in their bodies." She added her voice to the others'. It was sensible advice. As far as she could tell, human females were always in heat. As everyone knew, males of any species were always ready to pounce on that. There was no sense in pu$$y-footing around: while times were good, a female should get herself with kittens. She raised up a paw, and began licking under a forearm. She had to admit, that kissing business seemed a strange affair to her. Have a sniff, have a yowl, and have done with it. But that was humans for you. Really, all a cat could do was give them advice. Particularly concerning relationships. The poor things were in dire need of consultation. She lifted up a hind leg, and began to groom her posterior. That was another point where humans were strange: they groomed theirs with trees. To be fair, it wasn't their fault they were born so rigidly inflexible. Poor things. The queen delicately hawked up a wad of fur, and politely left it on the ground for the birds. It was their nesting season, after all, and the queen knew her fur to be of superior quality. It would be good insulation: it would help in producing healthy chicks: it would widen her meal options later in the year. Hairballs were a truly useful thing. Could you even imagine if all that fur was wasted in digestion?
