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.
Seven awoke before the sun, and for the first time they could remember since they were eleven...they awoke from a peaceful night's rest into a peaceful morning. They found themselves snuggled against Mae, and Seven had to admit...the girl was quite comfy. Warm. And there was this cute sound escaping from her nose. They looked down at their new roommate, and then at the rest of the room, almost hating the idea of leaving the zone of peace and quiet, but...there were things that had to be done today.
Pushing themself off of the couch, they made their way to the kitchen and plundered around before finding what they needed. They made a pot of coffee, and poured a cup and drank it. And another cup. And another. And one more. Then, they left the dirty cup on the counter, taking off the baggy shirt and tossing it on the floor outside their room and throwing on some decent underwear, a pair of cargo jeans, a baggy black shirt with some band logo on it, and of course a pair of headphones.
Then, they stumbled to the one bathroom, turning on the water and brushing their teeth, then running a comb through their hair. They didn't rinse out the sink, and they left the bathroom door wide open as they walked out, helping themself to a bowl of cereal with milk. Draining that, Seven grabbed their backpack from their room, and were out the door and going about their day to scrounge up a little cash.
Waking up afford Seven has left was a bit like stumbling through the aftermath of a hurricane. Yawning, Mae went to the kitchen and noticed the coffee pot on the counter. A spark of hope turned to quick disappointment when she realized it was empty. No matter, she could get something on the way to work. Mae glanced to where the dirty cup was, then calmly washed both cup and pot, setting them to dry and get put away later. No big deal, just an adjustment period, right?
She felt the same as she came across the shirt on the floor. She casually scooted it inside to what she assumed to be a laundry pile, and made a note to show Seven where the washing machine was later that evening.
Picking out her own outfit, Mae headed to the bathroom for a quick shower, pausing to wash out the sink and check that there was a roll of toilet paper close on hand. No use letting it run out. She didn’t have a lot of shampoo left (hadn’t this bottle been fuller?) and the towel she normal used was gone. A little cold, she scurried to the cupboard and collected a new one before drying off and setting out to work.
The day passed quickly and she returned, a bag of groceries on her arm to try making something to eat. Maybe they just needed to get to know each other? It was a shared space, there was no point getting annoyed on only the second day. She set her shoes on the shoe rack, out the supplies away, and did a quick vaccine of the living room. With everything finished, she started chopping veggies for a stir fry, humming to herself as she worked.
Seven's workday wasn't nearly as mundane as Mae's, nor was it as innocent as being the 'Freelance IT technician' they claimed to be. Okay so there was a spot of hacking at one point, but there was a few basic pickpocket jobs, followed by an underground street-fight where they managed to beat the hell out of some wannabe punk and made a good sum of money by betting on themselves. While they may have left the house first this morning, they walked in after Mae had already been home awhile.
Headphones were pulled over their head, hood of their red hoodie pulled over that, and their cargo jeans had a hole in the knee that wasn't there this morning.
The door creaked open, and then creaked closed, but it never fully shut; merely cracked. Blonde hair was strewn over their head, there was a small cut on their left cheek, and their lip seemed to have been busted, which fit in rather nicely with the bruises on their knuckles. They kicked their shoes off in the doorway, made a beeline for the bathroom where they washed off, then grabbed the first aid kit and trekked to their room wearing nothing but the towel they dried off with. This too found its way to the floor where they changed--with the door wide open, and then plopped on the couch, now wearing a white sleeveless shirt and sweat pants that still fit their two sizes too big aesthetic.
Opening the first aid kit, they began to clean up the cut on their cheek and examined the busted lip before finally noticing Mae in the kitchen.
Mae was midway through putting vegetables and meat together for the final stir-fry when Seven came home. Dirty shoes found a home that was definitely NOT the shoe rack. So much for vacuuming. Then Seven had run for the shower, leaving the front door partially open. Oh for f*** sake.
Turning the food off, she hurried across the apartment and secured the front door, moved the shoes to a more appropriate home, and then went back to wash her hands and finish the food.
She looked up once or twice and caught unexpected glimpses of a naked figure. The towel did not leave much to the imagination, and that brought a tiny flush of heat to her face.
Oh. Oh that was bad.
She quickly plated the food, trying to shake the image. That was her roommate. For f***** sake, she could not have those types of thoughts and survive sharing the same space. It didn’t matter though. Seven may have been non-binary by choice, but Mae was now very certain at least under their shirt was female.
Shaken from her thoughts by the sound of Maeberry, she picked up one of the plates and walked toward the living room. ”Stir Fry. There is another plate if you want some.” given the day of Seven’s accidental inconveniences, she hoped it was clear the plate in the kitchen was the one being offered.
Okay so maybe Seven hadn't been very used to the practice of wrapping with a towel; living alone they'd just streak from the bathroom to wherever their clothes were, but they were at least trying to adapt to having a roommate. Or rather, trying to adapt to not having said roommate see them naked. At one point the towel may have slipped, but it wasn't for very long and Mae probably missed it. Not that they'd care if she didn't. They figured that was just something that was liable to happen when one had a roommate.
Mae walked into the room as Seven was finishing doctoring themself up,, dabbing away what was left of the blood from their lip, applying a band-aid to their cheek, and leaving the contents of the first aid kit that they'd used strewn about the table, but they did have the wherewithal to close the kit and return it to its place in the bathroom. Then, they made their way to the kitchen without another word to Mae, grabbed the plate off of the counter, then grabbed a beer from the fridge and plopped back on the sofa, diving into the food.
"Well, you're a better cook than I am, Maeday," they said after a few bites. Granted, Seven wasn't a cook in the slightest so that wasn't saying much, but this was pretty damn close to what one might consider a compliment.
Mae accepted the compliment, although she momentarily eyed the debris on the table. She would clean later, already guessing she would have to take care of the dishes too. She wondered how many days she should give it before casually leaving comments about cleaning up after themselves.
Maybe 3 or four. It was only the third day after all. Right? She was having trouble keeping track of time when she didn't go to bed until after midnight. "Eating out all the time is too expensive, the only alternative is to learn to actually cook. If you ever want to try I could help you sometime. This is probably as fancy as it gets though so don't get too impressed."
Mae finished her food without much commentary then returned to the kitchen and started cleaning the dishes. She washed the pan and put it to dry, put away the cup and coffee pot she cleaned that morning, and then started washing her own plate and fork.
"Do you usually come home injured?" she commented casually. Obviously she had noticed. "Just let me know if you plan on letting it happen a lot so I can at least pick up some first aid skills. Or a second first aid kit." if she commented about the first aid supplies would Seven think to put the trash away? Somehow she felt a more direct approach would be needed, like with the food.
"You're telling me; takeout is just another bill for me," they said dryly, giving a slight eyeroll for effect. "That sounds like a good idea, actually. Could always learn a new skill," they replied sincerely before adding, "But I have to say I'm not an easy person to impress, anyway." It probably sounded harsher than was meant, but tone and delivery wasn't really anything that was on Seven's priority list when it came to communication.
Seven finished eating, actually having the courtesy to bring their dishes to the sink--right as Mae was finishing up washing.
"Sometimes. I end up having to work in less-than-savory neighborhoods sometimes, but it's no big deal. Just a few cuts here and there from time to time." They snorted, their smirk a little more prominent than usual. "I don't let it happen, Maeflower. It just kinda does, though rest assured, I normally end up giving better than I got."
They gave a nod, an air of arrogance radiating from them when they mentioned giving better than they get. Then, they actually got the hint and grabbed the bloody gauze, alcohol pads, and scraps of trash from the table, and threw it in the bathroom trash--with about half of it missing the trash can. Then, they plopped back on the couch, curling up on their section as they were growing accustomed to.
Mae was not surprised by the comments. Seven wasn’t just a hard person to impress, they were a bit difficult to live with in general. At least they seemed to be learning. The trash made it toward the trash can, and the plate landed in the sink.
No bother, she would just wash that one too. Re-soaping the sponge she finished the last plate and left it to dry.
With things back in their proper order, Mae returned to the living room where her book was waiting and pulled her feet up under her. From this carnage point she could see the trash that hadn’t quite made it into its receptacle and inwardly sighed. Yeah, she could fix that too.
”Couldn’t you fins a safer job? Or do you just prefer the hand to hand combat?” Mae mused. She lifted her book to her lap and opened it but didn’t start reading quite yet. She was trying to get to know her roommate more. Other than uh, getting to know what they looked like under a towel. That was still stuck in her head and she needed a defense to it.
Instinctively, Seven scooted a little bit closer as Mae sat down next to them; they'd grown accustomed--and rather fond, of the girl's silent area already.
A snort escaped their nose as they looked over at Mae, and then their face lost that signature smirk. "I'm a freelancer. Beggars can't be choosers, Maeapple. I don't have a steady office or anything like that," they explained in their usual dry tone, but at the same time, they were...somber? Though, they'd never give details, like nothing they did to make money was legal, or that they fought in underground fight clubs for some extra cash and to blow off steam.
"Though I have to admit...I don't mind it. It adds a level of excitement, and I've had to fight for survival pretty much all my life. If it ain't broke, don't fix it, right?" They looked over at Mae with a small shrug before sitting back on the couch. As the silence set in, Seven looked over again.
Mae listened but still couldn’t help a frown. It felt a bit early to judge but she had never been one to keep her mouth shut out of an interest in being polite. ”I just hope you consider the long term consequences too. Like, getting hit on the body isn’t so bad, but the face? You know the brain doesn’t have anything holding it in place. It just swishes around in there. And when you get hit, you literally send your brain slamming into the wall of your own skull. Boxers, football players, even soccer players see long term damage from the repeat impact they cause on their own brain. You bruise or damage it too much, it causes personality shifts, memory loss... just, be careful. Learn to guard what matters.”
Mae realized that could offend her roommate, but she would have regretted never saying anything. Sometimes people didn’t know the impact of their career path until it was too late. She couldn’t say what Seven was doing, but if signs indicated anything, a word of caution couldn’t hurt. ”I work at a spa. Reception. It’s a boring gig but it pays decent and I sit around keeping the room quiet. The owner pretends I’m there because of paperwork and customer service but we both know she is paying to offer my powers to clients.” Mae smirked.
As the conversation settled, Mae went back to her book and felt her eyes drool faster than normal. This time, she found herself dozing off where’s she sat. She didn’t even get a chance to put on PJs. Insomnia had given way to just plain tired.!
Seven bristled a bit at the tone and the words that Mae was using. She sounded like she was honestly concerned. Like she cared. Like she was...worried about them? That didn't make any sense. No one cared about Seven. Hell, Seven barely cared about Seven. "What makes you think I matter that much?" they asked, not realizing the weight of their words as they spoke. "I've been doing this **** since I was like twelve, so it's probably too late for me now, anyway. Yeah...you're probably gonna have to learn to accept the fact that you're gonna be waiting for me to come in, but I won't. Dangerous world; everybody's got a date with ol' Grim." They settled back into the couch, muscles relaxing a bit as they looked over.
They nodded. "I don't know what I'd do with a quiet job, if I'm being honest, Maefly," they murmured, feeling an odd...tug inside. What even was that. Probably nothing. This whole conversation was stupid.
Mae dozed off, and Seven slid over next to her, lying their head in her lap again. Not going to sleep, just getting settled in the quiet bubble and looking at the ceiling. Their eyes occasionally drifted to Mae's face, wondering what her angle was. She had to be up to something. People used people; that's just what they did. Especially where Seven was involved.
Eventually, Seven's eyes did drift closed, and they slowly fell into a quiet, deep sleep.
Mae knew giving Seven advice was a lost cause, but would have felt worse if she hadn't tried. She brushed off the irritation just like she swept away all the trash and dirty dishes that seemed to appear around here. Mae didn't believe you changed people so you could learn to like them. You either accepted who someone was regardless, or you moved on. She was only looking at this from a roommate or even a friendship perspective, of course, but it still seemed valid. If Seven wanted to fight, it wasn't her place to stop it.
The next morning she woke on the couch for the second time, face stuck to her book. Seven wasn't there, as usual, so she yawned and wandered to the bathroom for a shower. The shampoo was almost gone, so was the soap. When she went to get her towel, that was gone too. Mae hadn't brought clothes into the bathroom, assuming Seven was already gone for the day, and cussed to herself when she realized she had nothing to dry with or even wear now.
Oh for f*** sake.
She peaked around the bathroom door, and seeing no one, she made to run to her room. There was a few clean towels there, she would just have to handle getting the floor a little wet.
Seven had woken up early, as per usual. They went through their routine of making coffee, draining the coffee pot, shower, and all of that, leaving a trail of unwashed dishes and dirty clothes in their wake--though these things were making it to their proper places, they just still didn't wash them, and a washrag may have gotten dropped on the floor.
They didn't have much to do today, so they did a quick smash-and-grab job, then went to the store. They came home just before the crack of dawn, grocery bags in tow, which they set on the table, along with an empty fast food bag. They had bought food, but it was their choice of food, and their preferred shampoo and bath items. Not enough to share, either. As they were putting the groceries away--in the wrong spot--they just so happened to see Mae streaking from the bathroom to the bedroom, soaking wet.
Okay then. They didn't bat an eyelash or even flinch. "Morning, Maepop," they said just as casually as always as they put the shampoo and the soap on the kitchen sink, then made their way back to the living room and plopped on the sofa, propping their feet on the table.
Not that it was the most horrifying thing in the world, the view was of her back at least, and mooning someone was probably not the worst roommate offense. She was pretty sure she was faced away enough that nothing else was scene. She forced herself to dry off without letting color take over her face, and then with a straight face she exited the bedroom, drying her hair.
"Sorry, someone keeps stealing my towel. I can't run fast enough to air dry," she commented. She ignored the new nick-name, and tried not to flinch at the disarray brought home by her companion. Dishes, they would be fine for now. Shampoo...well, maybe she'd let Seven hunt that one down on her own. They would surely take a shower first, right? Coffee pot... she should just learn to drink more tea. That was still caffeine, right?
"I'll probably be late tonight so you're on your own for food,"Like I apparently am...[/color] She slipped on her shoes at the door and gently shut the door, wondering how it always managed to open itself. "If you leave, please make sure this clicks better. Unless you want someone stealing all your headphones. You have more to steal, unfortunately." She sent a wave and exited, wondering if any of that would stick.
Seven had to admit, what they did see was rather easy on the eyes, which admittedly they let linger for a moment. "Who would steal a towel?" they murmured, shrugging lightly as the point of the sentence was immediately lost on them. Or so it seemed, anyway. Maybe they could try to use another towel besides the one that was just hanging there. Maybe.
"Yeah, sure," was the only answer to Mae's warnings about food and leaving the door unlocked. They listened, and intended to do better, but their tone and body language probably indicated otherwise.
"Later, Maebell." They gave a wave as the roommate left to start her day, meanwhile, Seven had a boring one ahead of them.
While Mae was gone, they did manage to move the shampoo and soap to the bathroom, and even somewhat cleaned the apartment in their boredom, however things weren't put in the 'correct' places, but it was clean! They even did the laundry and washed the towels--but separating them was beyond the agendered mutant. The rest of the afternoon was spent being lazy and listening to music via their outdated CD player.
When Mae came home, Seven would be sitting on their bed, focused completely on the television. Literally, they were zoomed in on just the TV signal, and no other sounds were registering to them. On the stove, there would be a...crispy...not totally burnt and still kinda edible grilled cheese sitting on a plate, with a paper towel bearing the word "Maehem" in pen covering it. In the sink was a dirty plate, and a frying pan with burnt butter and bread residue on it.