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.
Before long, the voice and the images finally began to stop. They quieted slowly and Vicente could slowly feel the tension in his body unwinding. He didn’t know what all that was about but he definitely didn’t want to face it again. It was dark, bloody, and something that he didn’t really want to associate with again. But why did he see them? Why would the old man sitting across the fire show him something like this?
You’re mind his fractured, the old man said in answer. There are so many pieces from so many places that they are beginning to jumble. That is why it hurts you so much. You apparently are not ready yet?
Vicente breathed heavily before he finally started to push himself up into a sitting position. He didn’t want to hear that old man or the voices again. He didn’t know what was going on but he was getting pretty damn irritated by the whole ordeal.
In silence he reached up and touched his face but he quickly found that he had not shifted. He had eaten the whole of the coyote head that was placed before him, he knew it because he could still taste the coppery tang of blood in his mouth. He was sure he heard the sounds of his bones shifting and changing too but for whatever reason he had reclaimed his human head? What happened there?
He sighed as he looked up at the old man who beamed at him proudly from across the fire. He didn’t know who this guy was and yet that air of familiarity was completely undeniable.
He knew this man.
What’s happening to me? he finally asked. How do you know me?
As damaged as your memories are, Nahual, the old man said. I had hoped you would have at least pieced together who I am…son.
Vicente sat there, slackjawed as he stared at the man across from him. Did he really just call him son? Was he staring at his father right now? Was he remembering something important? He had to admit as he sat there, looking across at the fire, at the stones, ritualistic items, and even the flat rock that one held the coyote head, everything looked so familiar. It was almost as if he were actually remembering something major but there was such a disconnect in his head that he couldn’t make the connection.
Why? Why would he keep himself from remembering something like this? He had been trying to look for who he was for months now with absolutely no spark of memory. Why would he bury all this?
His eyes turned back to the old man who was sitting across him from. That silent ferocity and tenderness that Vicente himself hoped he embodied was staring at him. The two locked gazes and for a moment Vicente knew that indeed he was staring at someone who was his father. Maybe it was just a dream, but right now, he didn’t care. It was a piece of himself that he found. That couldn’t be wrong, right?
Dad? he asked cautiously. What’s going on? Why can’t I remember anything?
The old man smirked, the deep wrinkles around his eyes showing both age and a hard life. But the smile itself showed a man that was happy with what he believed and not age or rough years could ever take that away.
But his answer would remain just as mysterious as all those Vicente had been getting so far.
You’re not ready, son, the man said honestly. You’ve strayed so far from your path. But gods are giving you a second chance. Another chance to make things right and to give honor to their names again.
Vicente offended gods? He never would have assumed so much about himself. Even though he still was not sure what he believed in when it came to his spiritual side, he had to admit that the idea was terrifying. Just what kind of person was he before he lost his memories? Was he really that bad of a kid that the gods themselves, whatever pantheon they belonged to, were offended by his actions? What did he even do?
Shaking his head, Vicente just sat there, staring at the ground and trying to contemplate everything that was falling on him. This place, this desert, was so familiar so it was obviously a memory. He would have to do his best to memorize this dream completely, to try to pull out all the nuances so that he could analyze when he woke up. Something had to lead him to who he was. Anything…
But as he found himself trying to take everything in, he was suddenly surprised to see the old man, his father, standing by his side. Quickly Vicente moved to his two feet and stared down at the man who was before him. He was shorter but he could feel a power exuding from him that Vicente knew he didn’t want to mess with. If anyone was his father, this man had to be.
Still trying to find his voice, Vicente shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot as he looked at the man. He was just a dream, but he was his father too. What could he say?
Dad…I…
The old man shook his head firmly.
No, son. You are a Nahual, the changing sorcerer. You don’t apologize. You fix. Fix the path that you are on. It is the only way.
Only way? But…what’ll happen if—
You’re poking into business that isn’t your’s…old man…
A new figure arrived. This time he was born from the very fires of the campfire itself. But what made it worse was that Vicente recognized the voice that spoke. It was the same one that haunted him when he first “woke up” from the dream and was bombarded with again when he had eaten the coyote head. It was that dark and malevolent voice that Vicente had been trying to escape from. But, sure enough, it was there, the owner of it had arrived and of course in the most malevolent way possible.
The man, tall, muscular, with long black hair and a thick mustache, smirked as he held a cigar between his lips. His body was partially engulfed in flames to the point that Vicente really couldn’t see his body. But was he catching the vague outline of tattoos? Who was this guy?
Peering out of the fires, the man peered closely at Vicente’s father before looking at Vicente himself. Using the fires around him to light his cigar, he chuckled as he inhaled the thick, black smoke and bellowed out a cloud.
Been a long time,[/b] the man said darkly. Good to see you again.
Vicente stared dumbfounded at the malevolent entity that had addressed him. After a second or two, he finally found his voice again and responded.
W-Who are you?
The man grinned. Not too bright are you? That’s okay. With time you’ll remember.
No. He’ll make the right decisions this time, Vicente’s father interjected. You won’t happen again. He’ll fix the path.
Hah, fix the path? Old man, the path is broken and soaked in blood. There’s no fixing it. You,[/b] he said as he pointed to Vicente. Will be back.[/i]
Vicente couldn’t understand what was going on. All he knew was that staring at both of these figures before him, he felt like there was indeed something important going on. His own father was telling him to fix whatever path he was on, but the other (maybe an uncle or grandfather) was standing in the fires and telling Vicente that it was too late. What happened to his life to result in something like this? What kind of person had he become?
Shaking his head, Vicente began to back away from the pair of them. They were staring one another down, shouting that each was wrong about what Vicente’s life was going to be like. He couldn’t possibly know what to make of it so he simply continued to back away, trying to get some sense of normalcy again.
But the only way he could achieve that was to wake up, right? But how to wake himself up from this?
It’s only a matter of time, kid,[/b] the flame engulfed monster said. Before long you will find out exactly what you are and when that happens, you will pick up exactly where you left off. There’s no going back. There is no road to fix!!
Don’t believe him, son, his father shouted. It is never too late. You can alter your path. You just need to remember th—
SLICE!!
Vicente watched, wide-eyed, as the man in flames drove a knife straight through his father’s heart. The young chimera started to back away, watching as blood poured out of father in torrents. The man sank down to his knees but his eyes were pleading for Vicente to run.
Vicente could do no less. Turning his back to the fire engulfed man, Vicente ran his heart out, running in any direction that was going to take him away from the murderer who had arrived by the fires. But even as he ran, he could still hear his laughing voice following him, licking across his back like the very flames that embodied him. Despite the sensation, Vicente didn’t stop. He ran…and ran…and ran with his father’s voice still in his head, pleading with him to change…[/i]
Vicente awoke with a start. Sitting up in his bed, Vicente lashed out with his fist, swearing that he could feel the fires of that flame-engulfed man wrapping around him. But as the second past, as he realized that he had just driven his fist into the wall, he began to slowly calm and realize that such a thing had not happened. He was awake; truly and in reality away from anymore nightmares. Tangled in his sheet, Vicente pulled them away as he looked around his room. Everything was exactly the way it was before he had gone to sleep.
Glaring at his alarm clock, he saw that it was about 3am. It felt like he had been asleep for days rather than only a few hours.
He groaned as he tilted his head to the side; the tension in his neck was killing him. God, that was one hell of a dream! And he could still remember most of it. He couldn’t believe that he could even conceive of having a dream like this. What were they?
Sensing that they were important, Vicente shot out of bed and moved over to his desk where there was a notebook of paper. Grabbing both that and a pen from his drawer, Vicente flicked on the light and paced his room as he began to write down everything that he could remember from it. It was sad how quickly all these thoughts began to flutter away from him. Dreams were so…airy that with but a puff they disappeared into the ether of the cosmos.
But he would do his best to wrangle in those details that he could remember. He didn’t know why, but he felt like he had made some type of breakthrough today.
A scary breakthrough; but a breakthrough nonetheless.