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 Ashton Drake on Aug 16, 2017 7:39:45 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
Cinnamon
854
14
May 8, 2024 18:56:01 GMT -6
Mugen
Friday, June 30, 2017. 11:57PM
The plane flew along smoothly through the dark sky. The Pinprick sea of the cityscape rested below. It was near midnight on June 30th, but the clock hadn't rolled over to July 1 just yet.
Ashton sat in his seat, thinking. He'd managed to get sat in a seat where both were vacant, so he'd taken both. He was in the window seat now, dressed in his grey suit and black tie, feeling spoiled.
The investigation was progressing. With Wong's information, he'd managed to harm the smuggling ring enough to push them out of Richmond for the moment. It had taken some doing, but Ashton had convinced his superiors to allow him to travel out of state, to New York. He had felt it best to suggest a joint venture with the New York branch of MRC and the Richmond police in-person, rather than call ahead.
Eventually, it was probable he'd move back to New York and return to his old position as detective with MRC. The Richmond position had always been a temporary one. Supervisory in nature. He'd wanted to see it through. That was the only reason he hadn't wrapped the opportunity up. The only reason.
His Richmond apartment had always been a false face. He'd never really made it a home. That meant, when the time came, moving out would be easy. He hadn't kept his old place in New York. That would've been stupid. But moving all his things to another state for a supposedly temporary business opportunity would have been stupid too. It was in storage, what he couldn't leave with family in the area or give away. His sister, Alice, had claimed Bess for his nephew. That was fine. Guitars like that were meant to be used, and he hadn't much felt like playing.
He wished he'd been able to get an earlier flight, but on such short notice... it had been the most cost-effective. Richmond, PD didn't spare much for expense. The trip had also been unusual. Why hadn't he just called and faxed over forms? Nothing about the joint operation seemed usual to him. And it would be a complete surprise.
The plane rattled the ice in his glass as it hit a patch of turbulence. It was one minute til midnight.
Posted by Ashton Drake on Aug 16, 2017 10:15:08 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
Cinnamon
854
14
May 8, 2024 18:56:01 GMT -6
Mugen
Saturday, July 1st, 2017. 11:59PM.
Ashton glanced at his watch.
11:59 rolled around... and everything went sideways. He glanced out his window as the captain came on, announcing unexpected turbulence. It was strange. Not a cloud in the sky. From where he sat, he could see the river and waterfront in the distance near their destination, La Guardia airport. The eclipse hung in the sky, harmlessly foreboding. And in the air outside the plane by the wing, there was a blurring of air. It flickered slightly, like discharged static. The plane thumped upwards, and he didn't react in time. His drink lurched forwards, and-- it hung for a moment, as if caught in time.
Ashton glanced around. People were similarly frozen, in the midst of actions. A woman held her child, but no noise escaped the young boy. In the back, a flight attendant had strapped himself in for the turbulence. Someone was sneezing a fine mist. The disturbance by the wing vanished, and his ears popped. With it, the turbulence went, too. His stomach dropped for a reason beyond his knowing. Things started moving ten times as fast, and then--
Friday, June 30th, 2017. 11:58PM.
Ashton checked his watch. The plane hit turbulence. The captain came on the intercom, announcing unexpected turbulence. The plane bumped upwards. His drink-- Ashton had a sudden and poignant feeling of deja vu. Outside his window, the plane passed through a distorted area of air. Static crackled. A bit of plastic stuck to the front of someone's shirt like a sock, fresh from the dryer. A flight attendant blurred their way down the cabin aisle in fast forward. Pop.
Friday, June 30th, 2017. 11:59PM.
Ashton checked his watch. Bump. His drink. Pop.
They were flying over the air space directly above Madison square park where a rip in space time was getting ready to open. He couldn't see it forming, didn't know anything about it, but the he could feel something within him, like the pressure before a storm. The rip was coming, and before it opened, it was going to temporarily and temporally exacerbate the space time disturbances New Yorkers and scientists had been complaining about for months. In effect, time was setting itself on a frenetic course wherein it slowed for a moment, sped up a heartbeat, then lurched backwards in time and space to the point of origin for the largest disturbance. Above the soon-to-be rip in space and time. Over and over. Again and again. Time after time after time. He was Bill Murray, and this? This was Groundhogs day.
Posted by Ashton Drake on Aug 16, 2017 10:54:01 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
Cinnamon
854
14
May 8, 2024 18:56:01 GMT -6
Mugen
All the time disturbances, all the distortions, held them in place like a boat on open water. They were kept afloat by surface tension, alone. Stationary. But struck by tides. Rocked, to and fro, but anchored. It kept bringing them back to the minute before midnight. He'd checked his watch several times. It wasn't later, yet. He'd been counting.
Once they exhausted the energy, once whatever was causing these disturbances finished, they'd likely be free. Maybe scientists wouldn't be able to find any further problems with time in the future, maybe those disturbances had all come together to form the mother of all... but for now... it was moments prior to the rip in space and time, and time disturbances? Yeah, time crazy was crazy. It was out of control.
Ashton rose. People were starting to react, as the distortions warped and crashed against them. On the intercom, the pilot spoke. "Uh... fasten your seatbelt, ladies and gentlemen. We'll get through this rough patch. It's a little rougher than expected, but--"
A man finished the sneeze he'd been frozen on. The female flight attendant blazed by him on her way down her aisle, and he matched her fast forward speed, headed towards the cockpit. He'd dealt with strange situations before. He was with MRC. Mutant related crimes were his deal, and he was good. He'd survived zombies on Halloween, and mutant riots when he'd been working with Archer. Surely, he could handle one little plane ride? First things first, he needed to speak with the flight crew to get an idea of what was going on--
Posted by Ashton Drake on Aug 16, 2017 11:16:38 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
Cinnamon
854
14
May 8, 2024 18:56:01 GMT -6
Mugen
He was back in his seat. 11:59, June 30th. 2017.
Ashton checked his watch. His drink--!! How many times had that time space speed bump cost him the rest of his Jack? He dabbed at the damp area on the front of his suit, fully aware it'd reverse itself and become dry in minutes, if not moments, when this damnable time warp snapped him back. He was grateful it hadn't landed on his lap, but this was getting ridiculous. Even if he got up and moved in an attempt to warn the pilot exactly what they kept flying through... or try and find the mutant, if this was a mutant causing it... time would reverse, as if it knew what he was trying and wanted to foil his plans.
He took a moment to survey the scene, as he used his paper napkin. They were in the slow portion of the "loop". A baby was crying soundlessly, and it's mother was trying desperately to turn back time to the moment when it wasn't awake and crying. A lanky college student with a hooked nose and greasy shoulder-length hair was sitting in his black hoodie, listening to something on earbuds, most likely the punk rock band listed on his sweatshirt. He hardly moved at all, even if Ashton knew he'd been rocking his head. The captain, again, was commenting on the situation and trays were still down, and rattling. Some people weren't listening to him, and were getting out of their seats. At the end of the aisle, he saw a couple trying to slip unseen out of the bathroom stall. He idly wondered what a time warp would do to that.
Static crackled on the wing. He glanced out the window at the eclipse. It felt like it was just this airplane, this area, not the entire world. To him, things would be repeating, like the light speed stewardess and his spilled drink. But to the world outside the plane...
He wasn't sure why he was remembering. Some people were. Some weren't. His ears popped. He counted the seconds before time looped. When it did, he sat calmly, and counted again. He caught his drink, this time. He had about a minute of time before it sprang back on itself like a rubber band. He tried to talk with the pilot this time, flashing his badge, but it achieved nothing. By the time he'd explained, the minute was up.
It had gone a bit like this: "Yeah hey, I'm with the police. We need to change course. We're caught in a time loop. Ever hear of the Bermuda Triangle?"
"Sir. Get back to your seat. I can handle this." Terse words from a stressed man. The copilot looked like he was going to evacuate the contents of his stomach long before he ever evacuated the plane.
"I'm with MRC! Something is causing this. A mutant, or something outside. A mutants power. If you'd just listen--"
"Sir..."
Pop. Ears popped. Pressure changed. He was back in his seat. It seemed like the pilot had gotten his wish.
Posted by Ashton Drake on Aug 16, 2017 11:44:11 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
Cinnamon
854
14
May 8, 2024 18:56:01 GMT -6
Mugen
Like in Groundhogs day, Ashton tried everything he could think of to change things. They repeated, sometimes warped, but largely the same. He spoke with the pilots several times, spoke with the flight crew, with people in the cabin. Searched for a mutant cause around him. He didn't try doing absurd things, just because all consequences would be reversed. Mainly because he was more mature than that, but also because this wasn't the time.
Even if a consequence-free entry into the mile-high club was tempting, it was way too likely it'd stop snapping, or people would remember what he'd done before the reversions. He needed to figure out the one thing that needed to happen to bring it back into the alpha timeline. To stop the reversions. The revisions? His memories of time-related science fiction and comedy movies were being overtaxed. They had to get back to the future, Marty, had to stop Skynet from coming down. Had to find the one perfect day, and fix what went wrong. They had... to get their head on the matter at hand, rather than up their ass with old movies. He had his work cut out for him. And he had to do whatever it was he needed to do within one minute (another point against temptation, ladies).
What he really needed to do, Ashton found himself realizing with a hint or horror, was place himself outside the purview of the time loop. He needed to get out of the cabin. He needed... in layman's terms, to jump out of a moving plane.
It was a stupid idea. Crazy. Maybe he'd been thinking about too many movies. This felt the ultimate 'action hero' thing to do. It also felt right. It made sense. If the distortion were localized, escaping it would free him from it. The possibility that this one change might shift the path of the plane enough to shake them from their timeline trajectory was there, too. What would one man less weight do to the plane? Was his presence the defining trait of this scenario? Did someone gave it out for him? Was this entire plane being targeted because he'd struck at the smuggling ring and pierced a vein? Haha, that last was unlikely. Egotistical. But hey, it had at least some chance to be right, right? If he didn't throw himself out of a plane, they sure would. Or they'd thank him, for making it easy.
Slowly, a plan formed. He didn't like it. But it formed.
Posted by Ashton Drake on Aug 17, 2017 5:54:57 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
Cinnamon
854
14
May 8, 2024 18:56:01 GMT -6
Mugen
A normal action hero would have thrown the exit door open in a burst of air, and flung themselves out heroically to almost certain death. Emergency exits on planes cannot be opened at cruising heights. In flight at that height, about 8 lbs of pressure are on every square inch of the metal door, providing enough resistance that abnormal human could not manage to open it without something like a high powered drill. Beyond that, tampering with the door is illegal. Opening it, or attempting to, can cause explosive decompression... which would lead to people and things being sucked from a moving plane. Such things are rarely a good idea... especially if one is aiming to protect people and uphold the law.
They weren't at cruising height anymore. A normal plane starts its descent about 28 nautical miles from their destination. They'd started their descent for La Guardia airport long before time had run amuck. He hoped he had his details straight about the elevation. Skydivers jump from planes at an elevation of about 13,000 feet. Coming into the airport from descent, planes usually fly at about 1000 feet (depending on airport landing strip lengths and other variables). It had taken him a couple of minutes to look this stuff up on the internet before he decided whether or not his crazy plan was a good one. It wasn't. But it was feasible.
Thankfully, he retained information in his head between loops, because he sure lost it from his phone's search history. The NSA would have a field day looking at his internet searches and wondering why he needed to know about explosive decompression and emergency exits on planes. On an unrelated note, a HALO jump is done at 30,000 feet, and the temperature would be about 25 to 35 degrees below zero. Without oxygen, one can stay conscious about... oh, 30 seconds. And it takes 60 to fall from 13,000 feet. He hoped he had their elevation data right.
A final note: the how. How in the world would he get outside the airplane cabin? He couldn't open the door. He couldn't break a window. It wasn't a skydiving craft with an open hatch. Solution? Teleportation.
Thanks to the wonders of science and evolution, he had a mutation that could allow him to trade places with things. What, you might ask, does a plane have on it that is visible, weighs less than 100lbs, and won't immediately cause the plane to crash? He could see it, lit up on the wing's tip. A navigation light. The plane could survive for a minute without one of those. And with his power, he could trade places specifically with the light, and not, say, the entire wing. Of course, he'd also gain the planes momentum for a moment. But he'd read somewhere about some law of physics that prevented him from dying on account of that... while inside the plane. He'd just have to deal with it, once he was free. Since he was inside the plane, theoretically he was going the same speed as the outside. But you never know. It's the difference between a bug on a windshield or a bug in a car. One splats. One is annoying and alive. Hopefully, he'd be that last one.
Ashton began preparations for his jump in a very simple way. He accidentally knocked his Jack Daniels all over his pants. Great. Then, he rose and grabbed his carry on from the seat next to him. In a perfect world, a parachute would be easy to obtain. But in this one, he'd tried, and gotten a lot of 'Sir' and 'you don't need a parachute. The plane is just fine.' It was enough to make a grown man weep. Arguing for it took too long. He was insane. It had driven him insane. But he'd repeated the same minute far too many times to let the idea of skydiving without a parachute scare him. It was a question of time. He didn't have it. Unless he just grabbed one and went for it. That wasn't a bad idea, actually.
Ashton tried. Commercial planes simply don't have them. Lesson learned. He was going to have to do this with balls of steel, traveling at 700-800 miles per hour, from a moving plane. Skydivers could do it. Of course, they usually traveled almost 1/3 that speed. But you know?
This... was absurdly stupid. Why had he spent time plotting this out again? He was just a man, not an action hero. The more he applied logic to the problem, the less feasible it actually was. Jumping from a plane going several hundred miles an hour, without a parachute, betting it all on the chance that he'd be able to find something visible, at night, that he could trade places with before he hit the ground? That was crazy! Well, so it was. But it was his choice!
Ashton rose... and time seated him. And he spilled on his pants again. Ashton sat, grabbed his carry-on, and glanced towards the view out the window. He focused on the light , and-- stopped himself. He sighed, and shook his head. However desperate he was, he wasn't dumb.
A minute passed.
"This is the captain speaking. We've done it! It's 12:01, people! Whatever weirdness was holding us, it's gone." The man's voice was ecstatic and high pitched, like he was choking on relief.
Ashton sat in his seat. And thought. Man, he was glad he'd stopped himself and decided against whatever it was he'd only been contemplating. That would have been a mistake.
Shaking his head and muttering to himself, Ashton rose one more time. Not to try and escape a moving plane. His pants were wet. Jack Daniels. Not anything else.
Posted by Ashton Drake on Aug 31, 2017 7:36:39 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
Cinnamon
854
14
May 8, 2024 18:56:01 GMT -6
Mugen
It didn't take long, from the plane touching down, until Drake got his things, learned about whatever idiocy had struck the world, and struck a path towards it to solve the problem. A few hours, maybe, with disembark procedures and traffic. He arrived late that night, or technically, early that morning.
The park was a madhouse. Newscasters had spoken of sudden appearances, and police presence, but it had all been fuzzy. When he got there and communicated with police, he had more ideas and theories about what was happening than any of them. He'd seen freaky time stuff, firsthand. He shared what he thought. Of course, they didn't all believe him outright. They were regular cops, unused to mutant related crimes. But a few were willing to believe enough to listen.
He convened with several officers, and worked with a dark haired beat cop for a time. Then, he met up with MRC, the people who WERE used to dealing with mutant related crimes.