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 a long day, and Sebastian had hardly had a moment to himself to think. There had been old and new comrades to greet, battle plans and preparations to be made, tours to go on, warriors to heal, private quarters to set up, and amidst it all he'd had to keep a straight face when he heard the news of the war sparked between the two largest Asian countries.
He had taken care of his business for the day, and only in the evening as he lay on his bed did he stop to let all the information sort itself out in his head. He wished that he could be everywhere, could stop every war singlehandedly. It was disappointing that the efforts that had already been made hadn't been able to prevent the Asian war. He felt a pull toward China, but he had his own war to take care of here in Australia. If he was honest with himself, he wasn't even sure what he could do about this smaller scale war.
There was only so much he could do to spread misinformation to avoid the final battle. More and more, it seemed like all he could do was delay the inevitable. Eventually there would be a showdown between the humans and the mutants of Australia. Neither side was going to back down. Neither side would listen to reason. It would be simple to negotiate a treaty if the humans would be willing to give up some of their land or recognize a new mutant state. It would be simple if the mutants could be happy with a mere half continent. It would be simplest still if they could all just live together in peace on their scrub and dessert island. Unfortunately things never turn out simply.
People everywhere were hard headed and stubborn. When ideas turned into ideals nothing short of destruction seemed possible. How many times had he seen wars start? Amongst them all, was there a cause worth the fight? No. He'd never tried to stop an entire war before. He'd always considered himself to be too small to actually make a difference. After teaming up with an idealistic group that aimed to bring about world peace, he'd thought that maybe they could make a difference. So far in Australia it wasn't working very well.
Was the situation similarly hopeless in China?
There was still, perhaps, hope that this Russo-Chinese war conflict could be, not prevented, but minimized. Controlling information was key. Depending on how the information was presented to the rest of the world, this type of conflict could fizzle out or it could spiral into something much bigger. Already they had laid plans for two agents to be close to the Chinese president. If they kept their eyes open and used the valuable information they collected wisely, those two young women could make a big difference.
The unicorn shifter frowned to himself and rubbed his temples. They were so young, those two. The puma woman was very straight forward and dependable. She was the type that would stick to a plan. She'd get the job done that she was assigned to do no matter what or whom stood in her way. The other, Katrina, worried him a bit more. She was so idealistic that she might balk at doing something that needed to be done when the time came. She seemed to truly want to make a difference, but she had a tender heart. She could easily fall into the trap of trying to save one individual at the cost of unknowable amounts of lives.
He would have to have faith that they would be able to fulfill their roles and that their actions would always aim to bring world peace. He had to trust his colleagues and friends. Even though they were young and inexperienced, they could weigh right and wrong and make decisions just as well as he could. After all, this was his first time trying to singlehandedly stop a war, too.
It felt more like trying to impress a mob boss with parlor tricks than an interview to become the bodyguard of a country's president. This was the final stage, where she got to perform her tricks in front of the president himself. Zhang Xiao sat impassively on a comfortable chair behind a long table. On either side he was flanked by his important advisors sitting in slightly less comfortable chairs. There were guards standing around, ready to take care of her if they suspected anything fishy. They had even brought a translator, in case Katrina's rudimentary knowledge of Mandarin was inadequate. She'd been practicing for a year and a half or so, but she was not fluent by any means. She appreciated the efforts they made for her.
She bowed deeply upon entering the room. The president barely acknowledged her with a slightly raised eyebrow. The man next to the president stood. He was a thin man with a thin mustache. He was tall compared to the other men at the table, but probably stood no more than two inches taller than Katrina. He had a raspy voice and he did not enunciate the different tones of his words very clearly. Luckily the translator seemed to be able to decipher the meanings behind his imprecise speech, giving Katrina a second chance to hear the words. “You are not Chinese? You have no relatives who are Chinese?”
The young illusionist answered no to both questions. They had asked the same questions in previous interviews and continued to do so for approximately ten more questions. She assumed it was for the sake propriety; if they hadn't already determined that she was not out to avenge a lost loved one she wouldn't have made it to this final round of interviews. As soon as the tall thin man was seeming convinced that she was not seeking vengeance he sat down again in his chair.
The second man to Zhang's left stood. With effort, Katrina noted. Even by America's standards the man was fat. By China's standards he was simply enormous. She didn't need the translator to tell her what he had said. She'd already heard the phrase “Demonstration, please” several times now. For the first time she smiled confidently in the president's direction. She had a feeling he would like her brand of demonstration.
“Come please,” she stated confidently in Mandarin as she gestured for one of the guards to step forward into the center of the room. From her pocket she removed a small chain necklace with a charm hanging from it. “This makes him invisible. It also makes others nearby sick if they come close.” Katrina slipped then necklace and the Chinese man turned invisible. Was it her imagination or was Zhang sitting up a little straighter? Katrina felt a haunting pang of nausea and lightheadedness, but at half intensity it was only enough to make her uncomfortable. Anyone else standing within ten feet would be slightly more than uncomfortable. Guard number two, for example.
Katrina stepped out of the ten foot radius of her charm, and motioned for one of the other guards to come forward. She was careful not to chose someone she had already let play this part in the previous rounds of her “interview”. Unwittingly, the second guard stepped toward the place where his comrade had previously been standing, and was in actuality still standing. As soon as he got to the ten foot mark, his face turned an unhealthy shade. With the combined effects of dizziness and nausea he didn't keep his feet for long. He didn't keep his lunch for long either. The poor guy apparently he had a weak stomach, as it hadn't had quite that effect on anyone before. The president was definitely sitting up straight now. His eyebrows were also migrating northwards toward his hairline, though his mouth remained turned downward in an impassive frown.
Katrina stepped forward to remove the chain from the invisible guard who had started to wave his hand in front of the green face of his fallen comrade. He straightened when he saw her coming and let her take the chain from his neck. Instantly he reappeared in the eyes of the observers. Sensing his job was finished, he bowed and returned to his place at the wall. The man on the floor, stood hastily and hurried back to his own place bowing on the way, embarrassed at the spectacle and the mess he had made.
“Last,” Katrina spoke as she beckoned for one more guard to come forward. A young man, no older than herself stepped forward bravely. His face was unsure, but he did not back down when the young American gestured with her pale slender hand for him to come forward. He had no idea what she had in store for him.
Katrina whispered “sorry” in Mandarin so only he could hear. She remembered the pain she had felt one summer ten years ago when a certain neural manipulator lost control of his powers. It had felt like every square inch of her skin was being stabbed, like every bone was splintering, like every muscle was on fire. When the young illusionist replicated this feeling on the young guard, she limited the pain to one finger. She hated doing it, but she refrained from showing any signs of this on her face as best she could.
The young guard fought a similar battle to keep his own face straight, but quickly lost. His brow creased and tears formed in the corners of his eyes. Katrina couldn't blame him. Even the phantom pain in her small finger was difficult to bear. Within seconds the guard lost his composure and yelled. It sounded like the Chinese word for finger, but Katrina couldn't quite tell and the translator didn't bother to help her with that one. It didn't really matter, though, for the moment he shouted, Katrina let the pain illusion fade away. They both breathed a sigh of relief and the young man backed up, not even bothering to bow.
Katrina hadn't noticed when the president had stood up. The expression on his face was difficult to decipher. It was no longer apathetic, more like a mixture of surprise and not-quite-happiness-not-quite-fear. If she had to guess, she might also label that glint in his eye as greed, but she couldn't be certain. Was that a good thing or a bad thing? Zhang leaned over to speak with the interpreter, keeping his eyes on the illusionist the entire time. Katrina couldn't tell what he was saying over the din of the talking. She could not have pinpointed the exact moment the commotion had begun, only that there was a general stir amidst those at the table and another amidst the guards, echoing it. The interpreter came forward to speak to her, and let her know that a decision would be made and she would be informed within three days. During that time, she should remain at the government provided housing in which she had been residing since starting the interview process. Katrina nodded, then left the room to wait out her three days and wonder if Sara had also made it to the final interview.
Posted by Sebastian on May 18, 2009 16:21:14 GMT -6
Beta Mutant
730
0
May 18, 2013 11:53:12 GMT -6
All was not well in the land down under.
They hadn't gotten to the point where they had started relying on chemical warfare. At least, not yet. If the Australians had any interest in what was happening on the continent there was a separate war raging, making plenty of examples of how to most effectively and efficiently wipe out lives.
Sebastian shuddered at the thought. If guns, mutations, and adaptations weren't effective enough weapons he would hate to see what was effective enough. The planet was dying, thousands of lives at a time. Fish in the sea perished from weather changes too rapid for evolution to keep up. Birds crushed their own eggs because pollutants made the shells weak. Humans and mutants happily exterminated each other on four different continents, and a deadly epidemic took care of a fifth.
What could a single person do? He had tried so hard to set the stage for making a difference. He had inside information from all over the world at his finger tips. The trouble was, he didn't know what to do with it all.
The mutant rebellion of Sydney was going to launch a surprise attack on a human base within the next 24 hours. Great, he knew all about it. Now what was he supposed to do? Could he convince the mutants not to attack? Unlikely. They would never listen to a war advisor that always advised them to avoid all battles. Could he warn the base of the impending attack? In all likelihood it wouldn't change the numbers of lives lost, only the mutant to human ratio. The most he could do was save a few lives of soldiers after the battle was over. He could heal them so they would live to fight another day. Live to kill another day.
Famine ran rampant across the entire world. Children starved on the streets of New York City just as they did on the streets of Amsterdam, New Delhi, and Beijing. In the Great Hall of the People, the government building where Zhang Xiao and his entourage of advisors, officials, and body guards worked each day, no one went hungry.
Katrina couldn't stand to finish her hearty dinners when she knew that just outside the doors were people starving to death on the streets. There wasn't enough food for the soldiers. There wasn't enough food for the citizens of any country. Yet somehow there was enough food that rich and powerful Chinese politicians could hoard it away and eat their fill three times a day. It made her sick to her stomach each time she saw a plate of food.
Posted by Sebastian on May 18, 2009 16:23:34 GMT -6
Beta Mutant
730
0
May 18, 2013 11:53:12 GMT -6
Ebolapox?
What in all the depths of hades were they thinking?
Sebastian threw his newspaper onto the floor without even reading past the headline: EBOLA POX RELEASED INTO YELLOW RIVER, Chinese and Russian armies and citizens, both effected.
What mind could possibly have thought it was a good idea to create and unleash another plague? The black plague was bad enough when it had been an accident. The AIDS epidemic that had left Africa crippled and dying was one of the saddest events in human history. Then, ten years ago a group of mutant supremacists had engineered and released the deadliest virus that had ever been seen on the planet. The Haywire plague had wiped out hundreds of thousands of humans, had crippled economies worldwide, had created famines, had sparked two wars.
When will they learn not to futuō with deadly diseases?
The government was trying to hush up the story before the media got a hold of it. They couldn't even hush the whispers and rumors that spread instantly through the Great Hall of the People. A platoon of Chinese soldiers was heading towards a small village near the border between China and Russia to pick up emergency supplies. The town had a small store house where they had perhaps enough to see them through the rest of the winter.
When the army arrived, they found the village slaughtered.
No one knew who had done it for certain. Either army could have ransacked the town for its food. With both sides starving, either army could have been responsible for the theft of the stores, but only monsters could have been responsible for the rape, the massacre, the pillaging, the burning. Innocent people who wanted nothing more than to survive suffered because of the actions of politicians thousands of miles away.
Food made villages a target and hunger made armies into mobs. Were there other villages where this had happened? Likely. Would it happen again? No one wanted to answer that question.
“At least the women of the village got to see some action one last time before they died,” Chaing Sui rasped at her under his breath in poorly enunciated Mandarin.
Katrina had enough experience deciphering his pronunciation that she could now understand his words when he spoke to her. She also had enough experience to refuse to acknowledge her understanding of his words. The vice president was possibly the slimiest most lecherous man to ever have walked the planet.
“What's the matter? Not feeling talkative today? It's okay, you don't need to talk to be entertaining.” His mustache twitched licentiously.
Katrina continued to ignore him, keeping her body still and her eyes busy. Her gaze darted professionally around the room as she watched for any signs of threats to the supreme leader on China. The president was across the chamber, at least three other guards were in the room and she was in charge of keeping unwanted people out of the room. It was a pity that Katrina couldn't move any names from the acceptable list to the undesirable list.
“It's nice that Zhang finally chose some attractive guards. Some of them are real monsters, you know.” His hand was twitching toward her chest. The closer it got, the hotter it felt. A few inches away and he felt like he was reaching into a blacksmith's fire to grab a red hot poker with his bare hand.
“Gong gong qi che!” He slapped her across the face. He felt like he had slapped the very wall. Now both of his hands hurt.
“Wangbadan! Huli jing! Sanba!” The young blonde guard was standing behind the president now, across the chamber. She wasn't looking at him, but the president was.
Zhang Xiao was staring questioningly at his second in command as he shouted repeated insults at the pillar next to the door. Perhaps the man was not the best choice to be his successor. Though, he didn't plan on dying any time soon, so it probably made little difference.
Katrina hoped he'd pick someone else sooner rather than later.
Posted by Sebastian on May 18, 2009 19:33:28 GMT -6
Beta Mutant
730
0
May 18, 2013 11:53:12 GMT -6
Sebastian was tired.
He was tired of healing soldiers so they can continue to slaughter others. He was tired of newspapers that brought news of wars, famines, and plagues. He was tired of trying to write emails filled with hope to his colleagues. He was tired of encouraging them to continue to try making a difference when he had lost all hope long ago that any difference could be made anywhere in the world.
He was tired of the aftermath of the Haywire plague. He was tired of the failed efforts to make peace. He was tired of gathering information he couldn't do anything about. He was tired of doing too little too late. He was tired of guilt. Tired of helplessness. Tired of lying. Tired of secrets. Tired of hatred and fighting and despair.
He was tired of this world.
--
On the floor lay lay an unread newspaper. The headline read simply:
