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 Dec 8, 2009 20:28:46 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
760
0
Jul 2, 2013 5:22:49 GMT -6
He was busy lately, much too busy in his opinion. The job at the Mansion asked for a lot of dedication -he couldn't measure time after all, only watch as the hours faded and the sun set. Today he wanted to watch that spectacle from the green of Central Park, dressed in the usual colors and usual unidentifiable forms of garment, though they held some air of usage this time, garden clothes that they were. Another thing he had done before. Another thing that he had enjoyed very much. Except maybe for the sometimes very strange encounters on his way. The encounters that were so usual in New York. You simply had to bump into people here and there. A fact he felt little fondness for. Much less so then most normals anyways. It was only here that people had free time. The time to throw words at each other, to share words with each other, to listen to words and utter them. Listen to the sound of falling leaves, of crushed snow, of growing greens or whispering grass, all dependent on the season. And there were so many things beside the obvious ones, the man made ones or nature made ones. It was the areas where the two mingled that true works of art developed.
He had not forgot his job after all. This park had been designed by the most accomplished minds of the day, designed to last and convey enjoyment as much as giving the wilderness a space in the wild city. He was looking for inspiration on what to do with the Mansions garden, which, even though he had undone most of the damages different generations of students had inflicted on it, still looked somewhat bleak. And it would need some form of protection from the current students, who still gave some greens a very hard time to grow. Last week he had found two teenagers kissing in the roses.
Well, hopefully sundown or an idea would arrive soon. He was waiting.
Creia shuffled slowly to the entrance of Central Park. She felt drained. Her sprint of out the mutant filled alleyway had slowed down to a run, then a jog, a walk, and now practically a crawl. She did not know how far she had traveled… more than a couple of blocks maybe?
She needed rest. She was disoriented and wanted to take a break, but she couldn’t let herself do that. If she stopped, the whole world would stop with her. And her mind would swell up with ideas, thoughts, images, memories that all added up into:
Nothing.
There was no point. There was absolutely no point to her struggle. Why did she have to find the meaning of her life? Was it really that important? A worthy cause? Her eyes focused onto a lone wooden bench. Its hard surface looked inviting. With her last ounce of strength, she pushed herself towards the wooden haven and allowed her body to collapse onto its surface.
She let her arms surrender in front of her. She stared at the cut wounds she had caused herself on each arm. Creia remembered before that she loved to cut herself. She enjoyed the pleasure and the pain involved with each slit. For the first in a long time… she felt what pain truly was.
“Hey… hey!” A voice yelled from behind, “Hey girl, whatdya doing out here?” Creia forced her tired eyes to see who was speaking.
It was a cop.
“Hey… HEY! You’re injured!” The black cop quickly kneeled by the girl, “How did this happen? Who did this…? Who are you?!” [/b]A barrage of questions came from his mouth.
Creia could only look at him. For a moment, she was unsure if her lips could move. Finally they did just to allow some pent up air to escape her body.
The cop stared dumbfounded at the girl. Was she drunk? Sick? Homeless? He sighed to the resistance he was getting. All he wanted to do was finish his shift and go home to watch the tube. Now he was obligated to stay here and help this poor woman. He studied her body and saw a brown leather corner sticking from her pocket. A wallet? He looked at the girl, she didn’t seem to mind and hey, any identification he could find would help him out greatly.
He delicately lifted the wallet from the pocket of the girl, opened it up and looked at the closest ID.
“David….David Goldberg?!” The policeman looked again at the girl. This girl had a stolen wallet. The only reason he knew was because the man pictured on the ID had made such a fuss about his lost wallet that probably the whole precinct had heard. Emerging his head up from the ID, the cop’s merciful eyes had turn cold.
“Alright, you need to come with me…” He said while pulling his handcuffs out.
Posted by Martin Stein on Dec 11, 2009 15:36:00 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
760
0
Jul 2, 2013 5:22:49 GMT -6
It was only due to the almost-silence that was common in the park, that he even heard it. Feet shuffling, a shouting voice. Something about an injured person. Someone in need it seemed. Leave them alone, a tiny voice in his head said. Get on with your business. What business, another voice asked. You have none, you came here to think. Can you really do that with hurt people around? He knew the answer. It was quite simple. The answer was: Yes he could. But seeing that concentration was quite impossible with screaming people around and that they probably would ruin his enjoyment of the evening, Martin straightened up and moved towards the sounds, feet making almost no noise on the ground. It was as if he didn't even exist before their noisy and harmful existence. The existence of strangers that bothered him here.
So it happened, that quite silently and slightly annoyed Martin rose from the bushes that were ever present in Central Park, having indeed chosen the most direct route of approach. Only that moving through bushes never was quite silent, so an avid listener would have heard the rattling of twigs, the breaking of wood under heavy duty boots. Except that all three people were quite preoccupied as Martin appeared on the scene. A male police officer, who had cuffs in his hand, apparently ready to put them on an injured woman, and his female partner, who was just appearing from beyond, having heard the surprisingly loud voice of her partner. Just as Martin did.
The scene unfolded before him in slow motion. He did not even really think about it. It just happened. Time did what he wanted, most of the time what he needed. At least in this regard. The cuffs were blinking in the dimming sunlight. The guns black was matte, as was the tasers, that were carried on the other side nowerdays. Non lethal weapons, that gave people electric discharges. They made him itch. The policemen. The thought of discharges. It was quite irrational, as was his following behavior, but he could not really help it. He approached the young woman, bleeding profoundly from a deep cut, but, as far as he could assess, a non-lethal one, and the now pair of officers. “Goodday Sir and Madam. Do you have a problem?” The female spun around, as the voice, heavily laden with a foreign accent, had started to reach her ears, just as her companion redoubled his efforts to clip the small wings of freedom that the wounded had left. Somehow that disgusted him on a very primal level. His position being of course, that he could take care of a wounded without ever having to fear. On the other hand he could see the reasoning behind their behavior with alacrity. Security came always first, did it not? But the woman laying hands on her gun instead of her taser and getting in a stance, that was ready to draw prompted him to take action. Of course he could have just tried to deescalate. But this was far more effective, was it not? The probably lacked the skills to harm him anyways, why leave them the tools? Three quick steps later, he had just, with a quick series of movements that in their effortless look betrayed their planned nature, wrested the gun from the officers hand. “Now there will be no need for this, will there?” he expression in her face, would have with certainty prompted a laugh from somebody else. Plain. Dumbstruck. The gun landed in the bushes with a slught thud.
