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 1, 2009 16:22:55 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
760
0
Jul 2, 2013 5:22:49 GMT -6
Societies. They were the continuum throughout New York, America, the world. Societies within societies, one unseen by the other, maybe seen but ignored, maybe seen but pushed out of the mind. The situation of how people behaved, were to behave, was an intricate dance in between the different parts like a multi faced, many armed, Indian Goddess they faced, that faced them with at the very least one arm holding a sword above their heads. There were many cutting edges around town, where lives could be easily destroyed. Out in the Bronx, where dealers and mobsters ruled the streets with iron fists, or rather fists with metal tightly clenched in them, the different gangs, littering – or decorating, it depended all on the viewpoint- the streets with their colorful attire, warring either in plain sight where the members were followed with loathing looks, adoring looks from the homemade safety of living rooms or hidden from the public, from everyone so that they sometimes felt the need to drop a red wrapped reminder in the gullys. Some little token of their appreciation for their favorite neighborhoods.
Some societies did not like being forgotten and some, possibly even the ones that would like to be forgotten sometimes were publicized about almost constantly. On whose or what account was a whole different matter again, yet this days lecture plan at NY University read: “Prof. Dres. Mult. Sparowski: Mutants as the next step in evolution?“ The timetable had been published in several academic newsletters conveying the information to the desired attendance, and most importantly: On the Internet, where the not so desired parts of society had free access to it. In such a way, while clicking around several NY related pages, a timemancer had -after a brief episode of staring blinking and eye rubbing- felt a sudden surge of interest in going to college. And if it were only for a single night.
The lecture hall presented itself in a dim light in which people in black dress suits scurried about their business -probably staff since their main function seemed to be to swarm a single gray haired individual standing already on the podium- on the one side and a heterogeneous group of youngsters on the other. One of them had cold blue eyes and brown hair, his nondescript clothing fitting in too well with the background to be coincidence, yet he chatted away lightly and with some apparent familiarity with a blond person on his side. How easy to fool those Philosophers are. They really seem to have lost a certain sense of reality. The thought crossed his mind, before being tucked away in a dark corner and replaced by a cryptic summary of the latest theories on post-modernistic theories. He managed to keep his face straight, as it was a topic to the liking of his counterpart. And if his counterpart was happy, then so was he, for he was readily included in a group of more or less absent mindedly looking would be academics. The fact that they had just met a few minutes earlier was already forgotten by at least one, while people slowly made their ways to seats and benches, most getting out notebooks and pencils in expectation of the things there were to come. He simply keened his senses.
Academics were all wrong, politics were not correct, not even the economy was right. Everything was wrong, but there was one lecture that may prove to be to her benefit. Evolution. Mutants were the next step in evolution and it was only a matter of time before humans became endangered and then extinct. It was time to move into the future and Ahorta was glad that someone had set up a class session for it. Now of course, Ahorta was not allowed near a school, she really was not allowed anywhere at all, she could not go anywhere other than the mental institution. Yet since she had already broken out, she did not much care where she went.
Strolling over to the lecture room, she had no paper and no pens with her, she would just eat through the pen and make it bleed, so what was the point? Plus, her mind was a like a giant file cabinet, she'd remember every word he would say in this. Walking inside the room, she took a seat at the very back, away from everyone, in the seat that was surrounded by nothing but air. Other students filed in, staring at her like they did not recognize her, she was wearing her face mask, but no one introduced themselves. Stupid, worm, ugly, tornado, normal, tall, fat. Each student looked different through Ahorta's eyes and she did not want them to make any contact with her. Crossing her legs, she waited for the lesson to begin. If it was about human-hugging, she would walk out. It was worth a try though, if only he was worth her attention.
Posted by Martin Stein on Jul 19, 2009 16:11:51 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
760
0
Jul 2, 2013 5:22:49 GMT -6
"Let me introduce now introduce you to our gest...." His focus switched from the podium, where a balding man past the prime of his life was now reading biographical data from what appeared to be a sheet of paper, to the people around him. Man wearing black coat and glasses despite being indoors. No manners and a severe case of bad taste made Martins brows intent on wiggling their way up his head, but he refrained from doing so. Bad maybe, but not noteworthy otherwise. Dismissed. Student wearing rimless glasses and an expensive looking coat in a crowd of similarly dressed friends chatting away. Dismissed. Dismissed. Dismissed. It appeared that he either had have to go through a whole lot of biographical info from wikipedia again- it had become so easy to access biographical data he wondered why they read it out loud here-, or else, listen to theories on theories of theories in some hopefully remotely interesting subject. Appealing. Girl with white mask. Note taken. His wandering eyes fixed in on her position, glued to the spot she had taken seat at. The question was whether he should approach her and create possible note of himself or remain seated. A quick second and third reassessment of his situation later the decision had fallen.
With a quick excuse to his newfound companions he made his way up to the girl on the ground, strolling through the lines of the last rushing students. He arrived at his destination, just as the doors of the hall were closed and the light was dimmed. The biographical rant though, had not come to an end yet, as the apparent piece of paper had miraculously transformed itself into a series of pages. So there was still room for latecomers.
With an inquisitive look at the empty places around the girl he made his way up to her and began, what was normally considered a polite conversation. An everyday conversation. One that would not stick to any mind for longer then three minutes. "Is this seat taken yet?"
Posted by Martin Stein on Sept 7, 2009 13:15:41 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
760
0
Jul 2, 2013 5:22:49 GMT -6
(I will just wrap this up, I hope you do not mind)
Apparently it was, for the young woman shook her head quite rapidly. And, if he was not mistaken, there was fear in her eyes. He turned around to resume his lounging with the rather obnoxious ranting about philosophy, now accompnied by history, too, instead of having to deal with a frightened person, that was, as his luck would have it, quite obviously unstable.
And thus round one of what promised to be a very interesting evening, was lost to chance and fear.
And the second and third rounds had been lost to pseudo intellectual babbling on why humans hated mutants and why that might, or might not, be a wrong thing. The good professor had actually dared to try to accomodate both sides of the arguments in his speech, but failed miserably at delivering them. In fact he failed so miserably at presenting them to his audience that Martin himself was about to leave the area, when his interest was caught by another fact. Where the students might be reserved, becuase of the manyfold titles the speaker carried, the attending university staff was not. Soon the lecturer was given a lecture -on basic logic and stringency in academic in his case- writing by a rather stern looking woman from the front rows, whom, as his company assured him with a grave look of terror, was indeed the devil herself.
As he politely excused himself from his newfound friends, they had invited him to a party in a few weeks after all, half a tiring hour later -they still had no idea who he was and he was quite happy to keep them that way- he was having thoughts of going to college again. To learn with the devil.
