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.
There were so many things wrong with this whole deal.
One: he had to wait a whole day. That broke the 24-hour rule, so the girl had the right to remain silent and do not answer the phone at all, or answer and tell him to buzz off. Two: what the hell was he doing?! He didn't even want to date. True, people have told him to move on and bla bla, and Ami was kind of nice and fun to be around, but the last thing on his mind was dating... ... so why the hell was he calling her now?...
Because you are pathetic and desperate, that's why. Thank's Rup.
He needed to get away. From everything. From the Mansion, from the waiting, from the hired assassins, from Twyla, from the X-men, from friggin' New York City. He needed to get as far away as one could get. About five hundred years far.
Her dad? He was the Lord of the Rings. On ring three, he picked up.
Arthur Mellitus was a nice man. Caring, understanding, intelligent. He liked reading and writing and when his kids behaved themselves and listened to their parents. He did not act as lord over his castle. Nay, if one were to look at the bills, the major income source would be his wife. That did not mean he was not a Lord, nor that he wore no pants in the relationship. What it meant was... he was the man of the house, when his wife was not around. As such, it was his privilege, nay, his duty, to answer the phone.
The day prior, Arthur Mellitus's daughter had lurked in the corner by the phone. She had been waiting. For what, he did not know. She had not told him. A call. That was the extent of his knowledge on the matter. It hadn't come. She'd been disappointed. Now here, today, there was a call.
Arthur Mellitus did not read minds. He read books with a touch. He had Call Waiting, but that did not tell him who was calling, in this case. He did not know the number. He did not immediately call his daughter, either. Instead, he answered.
"Hello?" He said."This is Arthur Mellitus. Who is this?"
Parents. Gawain did not like parents. Parents did not like Gawain either, as far as he could tell. Still, he couldn't really hang up now, that would have been awkward, and maybe the phone would not be picked up again. He cleared his throat in a manly fashion.
"Umm... good morning, sir, this is Gawain Morris, I would like to talk to Amelia please?"
I sound like a teenage boy. Blah. I should have just swooped in and kidnapped her. Yeah, kidnapped her from where?...
"Ah, yes..." Arthur trailed. Yes, quite. A boy asking for his daughter. Why had he not expected this? Perhaps because more often than not, they called when she was expecting it, and because he was a father, and as such, it was most certainly (no question here) his duty to be out of touch with what exactly was going on in the lives of his children, unless he asked. He'd made a huge mistake. He hadn't asked hard enough.
Now, here was a boy who used the word 'umm'. Generally, there is a lot of negative stigma to the word 'umm'. 'Umms' generally show nervousness, or lack of preparation for the speech, the conversation. He himself never 'umm'd. But he could not hope to hold others to his standard. As a writer, he had to be one step ahead of others in wit and reason, after all.
"I'll go get her," he smiled into the phone. There was a clunk as the phone was set down. It was a corded phone, in this day and age. Cords were useful inventions in homes filled with children. They could not steal them off to their rooms to rack up phone bills. That's what cellphones were for. His daughter was not old enough for a cellphone. Not yet.
There came a rap at Amelia's door a few moments later.
On her bed, Amelia lay. She looked up from her comic book. "Yeaaaah?" She called through the door. Her toes wiggled in white socks in the air.
"There's a call for you," Arthur stated. "He says his name is 'Gawain Morris'. Do you know a--" He was cut off. The door came was torn open in front of him. Amelia's eyes were narrowed, much in the way of any teen's who is in the process of reprimanding a parental unit for something that isn't 100% their fault.
"I need a cellphone." She announced, in icy italics.
"He's on the main line," Arthur smiled through the teenage ice.
"Okay." She slipped past him, hell in socked feet. She reached the phone quicker than a cartoon mouse reached cheese. At this point, it is important to imagine a father spinning in his daughter's wake. Such was her speed. Okay. Not quite.
Amelia answered the phone with a hasty 'hello'. Then followed it up. "Hey," more calmly, this time, slumping against the wall with the phone pinned against her shoulder and head. She was smiling. A day late, but he'd called. As per the usual, he was forgiven. This was not a capital offense. "What's up?"
He'd better. He was not in the habit of arguing with fathers about talking to their daughters. he did not do that well.
>>"Hey... What's up?"
That was more like it.
"You need a cellphone" Gawain announced, smirk evident through the phone line "In the meantime, I'm gonna kidnap you. How does that sound?"
It sounded awful, probably, and knowing they were on a landline he was really hoping Daddy dearest was not listening in. He might just get the wrong idea.
"No need to tie the sheets together, I can get ya through the mirror" he added, chuckling "Anyhow, give me an address and get ready, we are going time traveling."
"Go. Away." Amelia shouted. She shooed her father as he peeped his nose around the corner. Into the phone she said "Sorry. Not you. My dad. Prying ears. Anyways. That sounds great. And I was just saying that..." Silly dad.
Arthur vanished. Not wholly. He hid behind the corner. She knew he was there. He was always there. It was his way. She ignored that affable father figure of hers and focused on the catch on the phone.
Kidnapping. Usually was done unwillingly. He had asked. He had his terms confused. Not that she would complain.
She would need to change. To get dressed up. What would she want to wear? Where would they be going?
"I live on the corner of East 7th Street and Avenue C, upstairs. My family has a restaurant called The Golden Bee." Directions given, she cupped the phone to her head and turned, shooting another death glare her father's way. "So, what should I expect? What should I wear?" She asked. Her eyebrows quirked scathingly at the dad who just wouldn't depart.
>>"Go. Away. Sorry. Not you. My dad. Prying ears. Anyways. That sounds great. And I was just saying that..."
Dads. Making things more complicated since... forever. Gawain briefly wondered what it would be like to have a dad. Would he be worrying over Maya, or would he be proud of Gawain? Or the other way around? At least he was not the one getting shouted at.
>>"I live on the corner of East 7th Street and Avenue C, upstairs. My family has a restaurant called The Golden Bee. So, what should I expect? What should I wear?"
"Nothing" Gawain answered promptly before he facepalmed himself hard enough to see little starts and spots "Err, I mean, nothing special. Ya're gonna change anyway. Trust me, it's gonna be fun. No special attire required. But if ya have anything Medieval, you might as well bring that along."
It figured he'd want her wearing nothing but a smile. She let him correct himself, however. Oh, how obvious a mistake that had been. Overdone wink.
"'Fraid I am fresh out of corsets, my good sir knight." Amelia replied.
Alas. Medieval meant she was not allowed to use her white broken record t-shirt with the red sleeves. It would have been befitting of any great time traveler. What exactly did he mean 'back in time', anyways? Heck. She was going to wear that t-shirt, anyways. If a girl wants to get her shirt on, ain't nothin' anyone can do to stop em'.
"I will meet you in a bit," she agreed. "See you then." She hung up.
"I'm going out," she waved over her shoulder at her father as she passed him by.
"When will you be home?" He asked, without any heavy fatherly concern apparent. But, he followed, just in case.
"The future." She quipped. Her door shut in his face.
About half an hour later (enough time allowed for the damsel to get dressed and the faithful squire to find the damn building) a minivan parked on the opposite side of the street from the Golden Bee. It was a fairly normal looking blue minivan, not the kind serial killers usually use, and not a hippie vehicle either. Gawain hopped out of the front passenger seat, into the rearview mirror, and across the street into the window of the restaurant; another few mirrors, carefully avoiding any potential contact with the parents, he ended up in the right apartment, in the right room. With his back to the mirror, in case the damsel was not yet decent, he knocked on the glass.
"Hey" he smiled, not loud enough for any parents to hear "Ready to go, m'lady?"
Knock knock knock. She turned towards the mirror. "I'm decent. You can come in." She said, loud enough for him to hear, but nobody else.
She'd managed to find a pair of nice blue jeans to go with her broken record t-shirt. The shirt was white, with red sleeves, and a broken record in the center of the chest. No hoodie, because it was hot. It was summer and she was ready to go.
No warning was given to the parent before she poofed. She'd told him she was going out, hadn't she? What? He'd thought she'd meant through the door? Like normal people? Hah! That was a laugh.
"More than decent" Gawain smirked, walking in through the mirror. She looked nice. She had that look about her that said she knew she looked nice. That was also nice.
"Let's go." offering her a hand, he pulled her into the mirror, glad he did not have to walk out the normal way and meet the rest of the family. A few steps later they were downstairs again, and then on the other side of the road; merging out of the side mirror with her, a cheerful voice greeted them from behind the wheel.
"Hey there yougsters, ready to roll?"
A young man with long dirty blonde hair, sunglasses and a medieval shirt was sitting behind the wheel.
"Yup" Gawain grinned "Kenneth, this is Amelia. Amelia, this is Kenneth, who was kind enough to offer us a ride in his van. He is going where we are going."
"And we are gonna be late, so hop in, sir knight" the guy waved them towards the back of the van. Gawain opened the back door and helped Amelia in, then got in too and closed the door securely.
"Good to go!" he called out, patting the side of the vehicle, and they started moving.
The back of the van was a small universe in itself. It was stuffed with bags, and... stuff; dresses, cloaks and shirts hung down on one side, there were juggling items piled up in one box, weapons half covered with a blanket, a stray lute, and all in all a whole bunch of things usually associated with the Middle Ages. There was even a shield with a coat of arms. Gawain grinned as he plopped down onto a pile of what looked like folded flags of some kind.
Amelia really loved mirror travel. There was this cool factor one just could not reproduce. From room to street, it only took a minute. Maybe less. She had not been counting. She had been too impressed. Had they just appeared from out of a vehicle's side mirror? Nice.
>>"Hey there yougsters, ready to roll?"
Now, who was this whippersnapper? Amelia took him in, in all his medieval hipster glory. It turned out, Gawain knew him.
"Nice to meet you," she smiled, as he hurried them. "And you can call me 'Ami'." She added. With an accent on the 'A', like 'Ah' 'mee'. She turned the smile towards Gawain as he opened the door for her. "Thanks." She got in.
Somehow, they fit amid the piles of junk. It all seemed very 'Knight in Shining Armor'. A sneaking suspicion crept up her neck. She turned that suspicion towards Gawain.
"Gawain. Are we headed to a renaissance fair?" She asked. It was either that, or LARPing. There weren't enough foam noodles for it to be the latter.
Ami it was. Ami was nice. Gawain wondered why she had not said that before. He never had nicknames, so he wouldn't know when it would be appropriate to use one... anyhow. Ami sounded nice, and shorter than Amelia.
She looked around curiously in the back of the van. There was undoubtedly a lot of stuff to look at. The van hit a speed bump; Gawain grabbed her arm and pulled her down next to him onto the flags to keep her from tripping over something pointy, like a spear or a sword.
>>"Gawain. Are we headed to a renaissance fair?"
"Yup, that we are" he nodded with a smirk, but his eyes were searching hers. Maybe she did not like ren fairs. Maybe she thought it was stupid. All right, it was generally not second date material, but it was fun, and as far from reality as one could get. Gawain just hoped she would not pout.
Pouting was actually the furthest thing from Amelia's mind. "Cool," she noted, making herself comfortable by his side. Her eyes strayed towards the front of the vehicle, and the driver. "I've never been to one. But I've got a friend who is all about that sort of stuff. I think she even LARPs." Hence why she knew what LARPing even was.
Amelia wasn't biased against weird stuff. Weird stuff had the benefit of also being very interesting.
"Guess I'm overdressed, then." She noted, smirking at him. "Shoulda bought a corset. Or a poofy gown."
Gawain let out the breath he had been holding, and grinned. All was well with the world.
>>"I've never been to one. But I've got a friend who is all about that sort of stuff. I think she even LARPs."
"It's surprisingly fun, once you get the hang of it" he agreed, looking around at all the stuff piled up in the back of the van "And then there are people like Kenneth, who practically live in the Middle ages. They are the best, if you wanna tag along without actually doing the whole deal yourself."
>>"Guess I'm overdressed, then. Shoulda bought a corset. Or a poofy gown."
Gawain smirked as he looked her over. Girls and their dresses.
"Yeah, well, technically, corsets are... nevermind." he was not going to let her know how much of a dork he was just yet "I'm sure we can find you stuff in here. Ken has a whole bunch of friends and they keep spare costumes in.... here... somewhere. They might not be all authentic, but, well, that's the fun thing about ren fairs, no one really is."
Digging around, he pulled out a hat with a long, fluffly feather, and put it on his head. It looked like something the Three Musketeers would wear.
"Take this, for example. This is way past the Renaissance." he tipped the hat "But it's still dashing."