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 sock was like any other sock. Completely run-of-the-mill, average, able to fit over any foot, regardless of shape or number of toes. Maybe not the world's largest feet, probably not the world's tiniest feet, but for his feet, the fit was perfectly snug. It wasn't a glove situation. No three fingers needed, no special company involved. Nothing custom-fit. Which was why it was incredibly frustrating to him when the damned thing wouldn't come off.
It was ridiculous. It was stuck. He'd sat on the edge of the bed, and pulled and pulled and pulled, and it. Was. Solidly stuck! When he finally tugged it free, he nearly toppled a bedside lamp with the resulting motion. Elliott stared at the sock like it were some rare geological specimen. Moon rock, maybe, or a hunk of meteor. There was nothing on it to have made the thing stick like glue. His foot hadn't suddenly become Velcro. There was no tape. Nobody present had control over attracting forces, like magnetism or gravity. No weird cop ladies from Ragnarok protests controlling clothes. Why had he considered someone replacing his sock with a metal clone? Because nothing about the situation made sense. Eh. Whatever. He tossed the sock across the room into the hamper by the wall. Then, he got to work on its pair.
Stuck. What the heck? Did he need some sort of shoehorn for socks, or maybe a spirit medium? Was this a case of possession? Maybe he just possessed some rank sticky socks? Elliott sighed, and slumped back on his bed in his mansion room with his right foot elevated over his body in the still air. This was bull spit.
Elliott kicked his foot out, then rolled over to grab a knife he just so happened to have stashed neatly by his bedside. You know, for safety? It was a nice knife, with great balance, black handle and pommel. Beautifully sharp, with a nice finish across the blade. Probably too long to be legal for carrying on the streets. It wasn't like he'd grabbed the katana he had on a stand over his clothes dresser. It was just a functional knife for sawing the sock's end so he could rip it off his feet. The sock had betrayed him. He was done with the sock.
He sawed the sock's toe out, then gently, carefully, cut his way down the sock's side. He grabbed the sock, pulled it free, then balled it up to toss it underhanded into the trash bin-- and, it stayed in his hand. On his hand. This sock was literally the devil. This was the worst. Elliott moved to set the knife down so he could use his other hand and pull the sock free--
"The hits just keep on coming..." He trailed. The knife was stuck, too.
Elliott stared at the knife in his hand. In his open palm. It stayed there, held parallel with the ground from the underside of his hand, as if by magic. His brow furrowed in consternation.
"Et tu knife..." He muttered.
There was nothing between him and the knife. No fibers, no little hairs like on a spider's leg, no goo (that he could see). It was weird. Almost like--
He supposed it had to have happened sooner or later. A lot of classic aliens can cling to things, climb stuff, skitter through vents and burst chests. He didn't know from personal experience. He'd never seen those movies. Too close to home. And the way that horrible woman tried to kill them... from what he'd heard, she was a nasty witch. So he could have been wrong with his assessment that many Aliens can climb. But bugs can climb. And some aliens are insectoid in appearance. It stood to reason that perhaps he was simply growing into a new trait. Sticky fingers. And feet. Hopefully, he could turn this crap off.
