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.
The headset attached to Katrina's ear quietly crackled to life, “We've found the car, miss. It's parked outside of a restaurant on seventh street.”
The little illusionist put her hand up to her ear to press the button that activated her own tiny microphone headset, “Thank you Edward. We're on our way.”
She caught Nigel's eye in the rear view mirror and he nodded. He was already adjusting their course. Katrina pressed her forehead against the dark tinted glass of the car window, trying to catch a glimpse of the car Slate had driven off in. -- (Rewind)
Noin's eyebrow was twitching. Katrina had never seen it do that before.
Of course, she'd never known Slate to miss a tutoring appointment either; it didn't even seem possible with the number of text messages, emails, and intercom pages Noin had made.
It quickly became apparent that Slate was gone and no one at the medical facility knew where he was.
The allusive healer had left only two clues. One: he had taken one of the cars from the garage. Two: he had put gel in his hair today. -- (Fast Forward.)
Katrina and Nigel peered in the window the the restaurant while the LARPers tried to act casual next to the newsstand. Fancy curtains blocked peeping Toms and Thomasinas from seeing anything other than the waiting room. Slate wasn't in the waiting room.
“We'll have to go in,” Nigel concluded.
“You always get to go in,” Percy whined, in a manly, paladin-like manor.
Katrina eyed a woman in a fuzzy pink jogging suit that was tactlessly watching them from behind her sunglasses and trashy tabloid magazine. They were drawing a bit of attention, what with four well dressed and well armed men standing around like a quartet of actors that had accidentally wandered off the set of a men in black film.
“Maybe I should go in,” Katrina suggested. “People won't notice me as much.” Driving without a driver's license + fancy-ish restaurant + hair gel, it was all starting to add up to something Slate probably wouldn't want an entire platoon of his security officers barging in on. Maybe. Most likely.
(Katrina and Noel are spying on Slate and Susan in this parallel thread.)
Curiosity might as well have been Noel's middle name. She was constantly learning (and re-learning) things. It was a way of life. Nothing was sacred. Not even a not-date date.
Or maybe especially a not-date date. This not-date date involved a telepath. It could be another snot-nosed kid like Susan. Bright eyed, busy tailed and ready to take on the world. OR (and this was Noel's favorite scenario) the telepath Susan was going to "practice" her "social skills" with was really an evil genius hell bent on the enslavement of puppies and world domination.
He could be using her and twisting her mind so that he did not even know that she'd been used. That was Noel's territory. She just wanted to know too many things about this not-date to let the opportunity pass her by.
Susan had mentioned that she was staying at the Mansion so Noel did a little stake-out on the day of. Susan hadn't known where she was going before, but now looking so pretty and getting into a vehicle? She had know. She slipped the faded clunker into gear and faded into traffic at a safe distance. Once at the restaurant, she circled the block a few times for safety's sake, ditched the car and combed her hair with her fingers. The restaurants was uh... a little bit nicer than she'd though a teen could afford.
At the door, the maitre'd didn't seem too impressed by her finger combing. He settled his feathers when she agreed to sit at the bar. Behind a plant.
Suspicious memorymancing eyes peered between the leafy greens. Suspicious memory tasting lips sucked down a shirley temple.
Katrina waited until a family walked into the restaurant and followed behind them, blending into their numbers. She was dressed more for studying than fancy dining, but if she sulked behind the kid in the bow tie, she was a little less noticeable. On the way to the table, she took a detour towards the bathroom, and on the way to the bathroom took a detour towards some bamboo-like decorative plants. She found herself in the bar area where a the bartender was wiping glasses with a white rag and a woman was sipping a beverage and watching intently what was happening in the rest of the restaurant. Through a bamboo plant.
Katrina avoided the bartender's gaze and slipped into the seat next to the dark haired woman. She shot a backwards glance toward the stout man behind the counter, but he seemed to be satisfied preparing for the busier hours later in the evening. The little illusionist turned frontward again and copied what the older woman was doing by peering through the plants to see if she could see where Slate was sitting.
She recognized his straight posture and tousled (despite the gel) hair at a table not far away. She didn't recognize the young woman with whom he dined, though she thought she had seen someone like her around the mansion. Hmm.
Or. This not a date telepath could really be a cat summoner with some really bad hair gel. "That no good, girl-name." Noel stood, nearly avoided making noise with the leaves in front of her face and set her drink down with a determined and dull plud.
Plud?
Noel looked down and... realized that she had her partially empty drink on top of a blond girl's head. And she had set it down with... emotion. "Omigosh I am sorry." She vaguely motioned toward the main hall of diners and her mouth opened... and her mouth closed. She was not entirely sure of what she had been meaning to do. Storming the castle would only make Susan angry at her. As well as a restaurant full of hoity-toity diners. Susan could be wiped. A room was too much to handle.
The drink was then removed from blonde hair and set down with considerably less emotion on the mini bar on the other side of the plant.
Noel was going to... sit down. And observe. And pout. "I think my friend is being swindled by a cat summoner."
The little illusionist had sort of wondered what would happen when the lady noticed her sitting in her personal space. She hadn't expected that the woman would be apologizing to her. Or that right before that Katrina would be seeing stars. Or that right before that the lady would be cursing at someone... probably not Katrina, but could possibly be.
Oww. Also, girl-name?
Katrina rubbed her head and waved away the apology with her other hand. She was glad that she had been able to avoid crying out when the glass had unexpectedly come pludding down on her. This was a spy mission after all, she could let something like a bonk on the noggin give her away.
The little illusionist blinked a few extra times and the stars seemed to go away. That was a good thing.
"Which one is your friend?" Katrina asked quietly, so her voice wouldn't carry very far from their table. "Are you spying on him, or her?" Spying, now who would do something like that?
"The girl is who I'm worried about and I'm on to both of them now." Noel sat back onto her stool with a bit more grump than was polite. It was not every day that one was caught blatantly spy-ah-observing.
"And who are you in for?" It wasn't everyday that a kid went to a bar. Even less when they fixated on a person enough to know who that person was fixated on. "Shirley Temple?" Noel shook her mostly empty glass at the bar tender as if it were a legitimate alcoholic beverage and held up an extra finger. "A little grenadine and Sprite never hurt anyone."
"Susan looks uncomfortable." The memorymancer found herself wishing she was a proper psychic for once. "Tell me you read lips?"
Katrina didn't see anyone who looked like Shirley Temple. It wasn't until the woman mentioned the ingredients of the beverage that she figured out what she was talking about.
“Sure.” She nodded, to emphasize. “I'm spying on Slate. He's the one with the brown hair and all the gel sitting up really straight over there.” She pointed through the foliage. It looked as though they were actually spying on the same pair. That was a strange coincidence. “He was supposed to be helping me study today.” Normally she would have been a little disappointed that he had forgotten about her. Today, though, it was turning out to be an adventure more fun than studying any way, despite the lump that was growing on her head.
“Sorry, I don't read lips, or minds, for that matter.”
She could somewhat read faces though. Both of them were blushing, in turns. The waiter brought them food, which they attempted to eat with chopsticks. They seemed to be doing quite well, as far as she could tell. No food had ended up in their laps, and some of it ended up in their mouths.
Katrina looked around for a moment, wondering if they were supposed to have a waiter if they were sitting in the bar. Perhaps this was the staff's passive aggressive way for telling them that they were under dressed. Meh, she wasn't that hungry.
“So, who is Susan?” She had no way of knowing that was what the other pair was also currently talking about as well. “Also, what's your name? I'm Katrina.”
The words had barely left her mouth when she realized that she'd just introduced herself to a stranger right after they hit her over the head with a beverage container. Katrina tensed. The last time that had happened she had ended up kidnapped. Mentally, she smacked herself for letting her guard down and scooted her chair just an inch farther away. Luckily, Slate was right across the room and several soldiers were standing right outside. She'd be fine, she told herself.
"Slate? He told me a different name." Funny. She hadn't had someone slip a blatant lie past her since the 7th grade. "He doesn't have a twin or a doppleganger does he? One with some not so stupid hair?" And was that facial hair or was his face just dirty? It was hard to tell from this distance.
Eventually the bar tender got around to mixing up two fresh shirley temples with extra cherries. He passed them both out to the two teetotalers and then left the oddballs for more fertile tipping grounds. Batty people were not often good tippers.
"What are you supposed to be studying? I graduated high school once." She was pretty sure she did anyway.
This was the date-iest not-date Noel had ever seen. "Susan is a very truthful girl who almost got burned at the stake not a week ago. Last I heard from her this was not a date. And she was not dressing up. Tell me. Does this look like a not-date to you?" It was a bit of a train wreck really. Teenage hormones oozing everywhere. Disgraceful. She could hardly peel her eyes away.
Noel offered Katrina her hand, the movement of her arm exposing a brief flash of badge. "Noel. Are you supposed to be in a bar alone, Katrina?" Any chair scooting went unnoticed. Noel was here for the not-date action. Abducting women and children was not a part of her job description. Strictly speaking neither was this.
The memorymancer finagled a cherry out of her cup. Susan didn't seem to be in any danger so the lies she'd told herself to get there no longer applied. Now she really was just being nosy.
"Slate doesn't happen to be a dicator's son or anything dangerous, right?" Kailey hadn't said that he was anyone special. Though the last time they met they hadn't exactly conversed all that much. But if Slate was dangerous that would make this stakeout a very little bit more legitimate.
Twin or doppleganger? Something like that. Katrina nodded. “Have you met Calley, then? They act a lot different. Once you get to know them, it's pretty easy to tell them apart.” She pointed at Slate, “See? He always sits up really straight and talks really proper.” The blonde teen wasn't sure that Calley could do either of those things, even if he tried.
Katrina took her drink and stirred it with the straw, watching carefully as the cherry syrup mixed with the clear sprite.
“Just the regular high school courses, for the most part. Slate helps me with Math and History.” That 'for the most part' covered her somewhat more unusual classes, like Self Defense and Flying 101 that were a bit more hard to explain.
“Burned at the stake?” Maybe flying lessons would have sounded relatively normal after all, unless the older lady was being metaphorical or something. Katrina frowned at the girl sitting next to her tutor. What got a person almost burned at the stake? Did she rub some anti-mutant protesters the wrong way or something?
“She cleans up pretty well after a near-stake incident,” Katrina commented. “Wait, it's a not-date? It looks like a pretty fancy full-out date to me.” Slate even had gel in his hair. The last time that had happened was at a wedding. No, wait, that was Calley. She might not have ever seen Slate with gel in his hair before today. She squinted, “Do you think Susan's eyes are looking a little gooey?”
For a stranger that even had a badge, this lady Noel was doing a very good job of distracting her with conversation. Katrina kept letting her guard down, but it came back up again when the lady extended her hand.
Katrina didn't take it. She picked up her drink, uttered a, “Nice to meet you,” and finally took a sip. Sorry, Miss Noel, but I don't shake hands. It was a little awkward, but much less so than shaking her hand and finding out she was a power amplifying mutant who made abilities automatically activate. Not that anything like that had ever happened to her, or anything.
As for the badge-lady's question, “I'm not alone.” Not with a person right next to her. Also, “The rest of my armed and dangerous ninja spy team is waiting outside.” So there. She better not even think of kidnapping her and dragging her into the sewers or anything like that. Or arresting her for being underage in a bar. That wouldn't be so hot either.
But back to the real reason they were both here, “Dangerous? Nah, he wouldn't hurt a fly.” Not that Katrina knew of, anyway. “He runs a medical laboratory that works on artificial organs and he tries to help people and the world be better than they are.” Like e and π, Dangerous and Slate just didn't belong in the same equation.
Had Noel met Kailey? "Ah." Was not a yes or no, but Kat had enlightened her. It did explain a lot if this was not the cat summoner. In fact, a different boy with the same face made a lot more sense for what Susan had told her.
"Wait. Isn't he supposed to be a psychic?" Susan had mentioned that and it was part of the reason why she was here. To see a real psychic in action not her ridiculous psuedo-psychic business but a real, live mind reader.
And if this boy was a psychic, Susan was a synesthetic, Kailey was a cat summoner and Katrina obviously dodged her hand shake... Noel ran a finger down the side of her glass to smudge away some condensation. She traced a pattern in the water beads as the lights came on and her brain returned home.
"Sorry. I didn't think you might be a mutant. Should have known better for a kid with the guts to wander into a bar by herself, secret ninja army or not." Really. Noel had been distracted with thoughts of cat claws, lobsters and a psychic repeat.
"Slate go to the Mansion school too?" She sipped her drink casually. Fishing for information? Naaaw. Just a friendly, run-of-the-mill connecting the dot conversation.
"Gooey?" That wasn't a typical eyeball descriptor. "You think she's making eyes at him? He's totally playing coy. Look at him hiding behind his bowl." It was a bit like commenting on a football game. He had the snap and was looking for a opening for the pass...
Coy? Wasn't that a fish? Katrina frowned through the bushes. Maybe he was acting a little fishy.
“He is a psychic,” Katrina confirmed, which reminded her that she had better think quietly if she didn't want to be discovered.
>>>"Sorry. I didn't think you might be a mutant. Should have known better for a kid with the guts to wander into a bar by herself, secret ninja army or not."
“Anyone could be a mutant and you wouldn't know about it,” Katrina pointed out. “Even you.” It was always awkward when someone shook another person's hand only to discover that they had a mutation that turned other people into piles of goo. There was always that inevitable first time, and she didn't want to be anyone(else)'s pile of goo. No offense or anything.
“Slate is supposed to be a mansion student, but he keeps skipping all his classes because he's too busy running his medical company. I guess being a CEO keeps a person pretty busy.” Did that mean he was technically not a student any more if he never even came to a single class?
The Susan girl, Katrina was pretty sure she'd seen her around the mansion. That left only Noel.
“So, what is it that you do...” ...Ms. Badge Lady?
For Noel not to know something was a pretty safe wager. She was tempted to pull out her notepad and make note that she should not try to shake anyone's hand at all ever again. There were too many unknowns in this world even if some assertions could be made. Yes. She had just gotten told. "You are absolutely correct. My bad." Seemed the Mansion kept a good level of common sense in their teachings. Perhaps she should attend a class for a refresher.
And holy heck, this child Susan was not-dating was a medical CEO? Noel gurgled a little Shirley Temple back into her glass and commenced with the coughing. The secretive into the crook of her arm kind of coughing, not that normal attention causing kind.
"And he's what? 16?"
>“So, what is it that you do...”
She sipped her partially recycled drink, frowned at its partially recycled nature and set it aside. "I work with the government." A government that might be finding this Slate person a more and more interesting person. "My job is a little like public relations, but you guys don't make it very easy for me." And that was so very true she tried to savor the flavor. Restaurants were always so saturated with lies she usually went for take out or obnoxiously strong flavors to mask the fabricated musk that permeated the place.
This girl was truthful, though, so perhaps Noel would not need another syrupy drink. "And what do you do?"
“Slate? Nah, he's three. His goatee makes him look older, though, and sometimes he acts like he's about a hundred.” He was such an interesting combination of seeming old and wise mixed in with childlike wonder and curiosity.
Working for the government seemed like a pretty respectable kind of way to earn a shiny badge with your name on it. Public relations didn't sound very exciting, though. It would have been way cooler if Noel was a spy or something. She didn't understand who she meant by “you guys” though. Did she mean the mansion students, or what?
“Who doesn't make it easy?” the little illusionist asked for clarification and stirred her drink around with the straw so the ice cubes clinked together and the cherry in the center kept spinning even after she had stopped. The stem pointed this way, not that way, and finally stopped by pointing right at Slate.
Katrina thought she had already answered Noel's next question. “I'm a student,” she repeated, then elaborated in case the older lady wanted more, “I think that I might be a teacher when I get older though. If I don't become a professional oboe player, that is. Maybe you'll see me play with the New York Philharmonic someday. Or I might be a pilot.” Katrina didn't realize until after she had gone back to sipping her drink that there might have been another type of information Noel had been looking for with that question. The little illusionist was not used to that wording being a mutation question, though. Oops.
Katrina did not seem to mind spouting things that made no sense to an outsider. Noel did not seem to mind ignoring them. If Slate was three, noel would eat her metaphorical hat. If he was one hundred he aged well.
>“Who doesn't make it easy?”
"Mutantkind." And wasn't that a lovely oxymoron? "Everyone has some agenda and some special ability that means they can wiggle their fingers and make trouble."
Oh. Susan was walking past them. Noel ducked to uhhh... return her cup to the floor. And then pick it up again and hand it to the bar tender who she had seen giving her a dirty look for putting her cup down on the floor.
Hm. Disaster averted... maybe. Susan didn't seem to tell Slate anything that made them both stand up and run away or somet screaming or start throwing things at them or killing people. Her interaction with her own kind was mostly limited to the kind of people who did such things so... even if they knew there was no way for her to tell since they exhibited none of the signs of knowing she was there.
So.. what were they talking about again? "A pilot? That sounds adventurous. Does that go with your ability somehow?" It was a classic conversation recovery tactic. Don't know what you're talking about anymore? Repeat one of the things said to you recently and then try to incorporate it into something you are actually interested in hearing about.
>>>"Everyone has some agenda and some special ability that means they can wiggle their fingers and make trouble."
Katrina tilted her head, “Not everyone who is a mutant makes trouble.” Then she thought about it, “I suppose, though, that some mutants make really big trouble and it averages out to a lot.” Her mind strayed to recent images of mutants in the news. Pink aura girl, tin can girl, giant clay cthulhu, and many more. “Yeah.”
With her 'yeah' her conversation partner suddenly ducked down low. Katrina looked around to see what she was avoiding, then also ducked out of vision of half the couple they were supposed to be spying on. She couldn't tell if they had actually been seen. There weren't any meaningful glances or pointing fingers in their direction.
“Yeah, flying is way cool. Harder than I expected, though, at least landing and taking off.” She shook her head to indicate that it wasn't related to her mutation, “Not really.”
And then ice cream arrived. They hadn't ordered ice cream. Katrina wasn't even sure how she was paying for her Shirley Temple (except maybe calling Nigel on the intercom and asking to borrow five dollars). She looked up at Noel with a very confused look on her face.
