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.
She rolled her eyes, marching into the apartment as commanded. "What... now you're afraid to be seen with me?" Smirking lazily, she padded inside, stopping before the large windows that wrapped around one corner of his apartment. They were pretty high up... and it was... a pretty view.
And the apartment itself? Clean and tidy... like he didn't even live in it. Suddenly, her shared apartment with Roach felt like a landfill. She was admittedly a little jealous. Turning back around, she searched for anything that looked remotely bathroom like, and stalked across the floor. She hadn't been kidding about the shower. Not when she was still bleeding a little, and her back itched like crazy from all of the little spider wounds.
She slipped out of her hoodie on the way, tossing it in an uncaring manner next to the door, closed and locked it behind her.
Off went the sullied tank top, off went the ripped and bloodied jeans. She discarded her new handgun, her red stained knife, and finally her under clothes. The bathroom. Was. Amazing. The type she had only ever seen in movies. And it was right in front of her, waiting to be used!
She nearly cried as she turned on the water and waited for it to heat up. Peeling off the silk bandage she had created, she tossed it in a little waste basket, stepped under the rushing water. It washed the grime from her body, leaving her pink, tender and relaxed. The wounds on her back were clean, the wound on her arm still hurt like a... er...well, it hurt a lot. She exited feeling refreshed, if still drunk, but twenty times better. Glancing down at the pile of dirty clothes she had abandoned, she decided to search for something else to clothe herself in. Still dripping wet, she spotted a clean looking white bathrobe, and didn't hesitate to steal it for her own.
Megan emerged from the bathroom, blond hair slicked back away from her face, with rosy cheeks and the urge to crawl under some covers and sleep for a few days. Looking around, she eyed the couch, and decided that it wouldn't do. So... she went in search of something remotely bed like, with the intention of claiming it for herself.
>> "What... now you're afraid to be seen with me?" [/color]
Vicente rolled his eyes as he simply nodded for Megan to finish walking into the apartment. Once she was inside, he peered down the halls before he followed in before her and proceeded to close and lock the door behind him.
It was needless to say that the apartment was luxurious and opulent. It was not that Vicente had a taste for such finer things. He really was more a beer and pretzel type person but in order to keep up the façade he moved into this apartment that was already fully furnished. He had not bought a stick of furniture for this place and he so rarely spent more than a night here that the place looked cleaned, spick and span. Tonight, though, it was obvious that this room was going to get a “lived in” kind of look judging by the occupants it now held.
Vicente staggered in and leaned against the wall and Megan fluttered about like a hummingbird. He really did no care what she did, so long as she was out of his way now. All he wanted was a change of clothes and his bed.
The bathroom slammed closed and Vicente could only hazily shake his head. He moved through the opulent living room and opened the door that lead to his luxury bedroom. He sighed contentedly as he slipped inside and closed the door behind him.
Weakly he made his way to the full length mirror and groaned as he pulled off his coat. Blood stains were splattered over his black shirt but were barely visible in the light of his lamps. He tossed his coat onto a nearby chair and looked down at his hand which was still wound up in spider silk. His hand was still sore but he shower and some medicine should go well with taking care of it.
Still hearing the shower on in the other room, Vicente returned to the door to his bedroom, locked the door, and proceeded through another that led to an attached bathroom. Once inside, he sighed as he began to strip off his clothes. Already bruises and marks and gashes could be seen all over him thanks to the madness that had occurred this night. But a warm shower would go a long way to easing all those. Silently he stepped into his shower and sighed as he turned the faucet until the pouring water was blazing hot. He growled as the molten liquid poured over his body, scouring off the dirt, blood, and grime from his adventure this night.
All he needed once this shower was over was his bed. Thankfully he had locked the door but he had a feeling that Megan would have tried to commandeer it if he hadn’t…
There was a door. It wouldn't open... It was locked. Megan stood there, staring at the un-budging doorknob. Pressing her ear to the door earned her the faint sound of a shower running. The twenty five year old wrinkled her nose, not willing to knock, or wait for that matter.
Lock her out, would he? She'd show him... Turning on her heel, she waltzed out into the living room, so far past drunk that she didn't even care that what she was about to do would cause some damage. His place seemed to lack a lot of easily breakable things, but she did find one of two little metal foot stools. It would do. Tying the belt of the bathrobe she had borrowed securely closed, she picked up the foot stool and marched back over to the locked door. She lifted it and smacked it as hard as she could against the doorknob. It broke, sending the knob on her bouncing across the floor. Tossing the foot stool to the side, she jimmied the rest of the door knob a little, managing to work it fully out of the door, and gently kicked the door in with her foot.
So much for locks!
The bedroom itself didn't look half bad... but it smelled of someone else. She wasn't interested. She slipped in, gathered the blankets and a pillow, and slipped back out, shutting the useless door behind her. Heading back out to where the couch was, she stopped and picked up her possessions in the bathroom along the way. She had an idea... one she had never tried out before, and she was in the prefect state to attempt it. Alcohol infused confidence, and all...
Dropping her stolen bed things on the floor next to the couch, she set about spitting out sticky web as fast as she could, sticking one thread at a time from one side of w wall in the corner, to the other. What was she doing? She was going to make a hammock. And a damn fine one at that! Then, she was going to crawl into her hammock and pass out... or maybe sit in it and swing for a while... and finish off that bottle of rum. Where had that bottle gone, anyway? Prolly left it in the bathroom... Shrugging, she hummed merrily to herself, setting anything that got in her way in a pile off to the side.
After a few minutes, she had a sloppy and crude looking contraption set up. Stretching from wall to wall, but only big enough for her to curl up in the center. It looked more or less like a web, though she was pretty sure her children would scoff at it and point out all of it's many flaws. Pfft. Lucky she didn't have any around to bother her!
The water burned, but at the same time it felt very good. The man sighed a little in content as he let the hot water rolled down off his hair and past his shoulders. It glided across a very scarred, very worn body that had seen many fights and had been on the opposite end of stabbings, burns, gunshots, and various other wounds that were hazardous side-effects of his line of work. But he bore them all proudly because nothing showed your warrior’s pride better than a scar. They were memories collected onto his bodies, reminders and mistakes for him to learn from. And learn from them he did since no scar looked exactly the same.
But as the assassin finally turned off the water and stepped out of his shower, feeling just a tad bit more awake than normal, Vicente suddenly became alert at the sounds of something crashing outside. Slipping on a pair of flannel sweat pants, the assassin dashed to his bathroom mirror where he pulled out from behind it, a large machete.
A growl on his lips and his hair astray, the assassin dashed to his bathroom door, pressed himself against the wall and ever so slowly opened it up a small crack at a time. Peering out into his bedroom he saw nothing really out of the ordinary. But upon opening the door farther, he had to arch his brow in curiosity.
His bedspread, sheets, pillows, blankets, were entirely gone. In confusion he slipped out into the room and spied his door hanging half open and with the doorknob broken off. His hand gripped the handle of the machete tighter as he slipped fully into the bedroom. He could hear the sounds of destruction out in the living room, but why steal his bedspread?
Curiously, the tattoo chested man crept to the half open door and looked outside. There source of the noise was coming from the living room and for a second he wondered if Megan was alright. But as he crept closer, he found that first glimpse of thin silk and he narrowed his eyes. Though he was still a little hazy, his anger was beginning to get the best of him.
Standing there, watching as Megan rested comfortably in a hammock, the assassin narrowed his eyes a bit. He was irritated now since she had practically ruined his living room. He’d get her for that later. Another glare and he simply turned away to storm back to his room. But he paused before he left. Eyeing the line of thread that was attached to the wall, he cracked his neck to the side, grabbed a firm hold of the sticky thread and pulled with all of his might. He was surprised when the line didn’t break automatically but took quite some effort. When he finally did pull it hard enough to break he was surprised to see that he had actually tore out a chunk from his wall.
He marveled for a second about how strong it was before he glanced back to Megan and let it go. One end of her hammock fell rather harshly to the ground before he turned away and, without a word, returned to his bedroom.
“Good night,” was all he said as he slammed the useless door behind him and made ready for bed…
Her hammock looked very much like the little things parents tacked into corners to hold a child's toys, but it fit her just right. After she had thrown the sheet on to prevent herself from getting stuck, and tossed in a pillow, before clambering on in herself. She attempted to drag the blanket in, like a hamster she had once seen tugging at a toy that was too large for him to drag into his house. It stuck to the sides of the web, causing her problems.
...and then she noticed Rafael, dripping and none to happy looking, just standing a ways away. Staring at her. He looked kind of angry, actually. Maybe because she had stolen all of his blankets. Yeah... totally not because of anything else... Megan grinned sheepishly at him and wiggled her fingers in greeting, uttering a garbled hello. Then she tugged the blanket in and curled under it. Moments later, just as she closed her eyes and sighed sleepily, she felt a tug on her hammock. Like one of the landlines was being messed with. A second after that, one whole corner buckled, and she was sent sprawling out onto the ground, smacked chin first into the carpet, and mooned the window by accident.
Rafael was gone, already on his way to his room, but she still heard his Good night as she was picking herself back off the floor. Tears stung the corners of her eyes, from the pain face planting into the floor had caused, and she rubbed her jaw. Suddenly, sleep didn't feel so needed, or important. Now she was actively trying to push through the fog in her mind, to figure out what she was going to do in retaliation... and, after glancing around the room, she had an idea... ~ ~ ~
After changing back into her clothes, tucking her weapons away, and folding up the blanket and sheets, Megan set them nicely down on the couch and turned to her work. Silently, with her shoes off, she set about gathering every item she could lift from around the apartment, cups, pencils, books, bath room goodies, and other odds and ends. She spat a wad of sticky silk on each, then painstakingly pressed every single item to the living room ceiling. It took her a few hours, and by the time she was done her arms and back ached something fierce... but she was very happy with the final product.
The area around her looked clean and spotless. everything was organized and tidy... but it did look very empty. Shelves were bare, tables were boring, and every mobile lamp she had found was missing. If one were to look up however, he would find that everything was still accounted for. Just... glued to the ceiling. Grinning at her handiwork, the twenty five year old slipped her shoes on, slipped over to the large windows she had marveled at before, and set about leaving a lovely little message scrawled in silk for her host.
Had a lovely time! Sorry I didn't stick around, but a girls got stuff to do, ya know? Too bad your work left you all lethargic and grumpy, we could have had so much fun! Maybe next time, right? Ps: Don't worry, I kept up the 'act' on the way out! Love, Megan.
Letting herself out quietly, she closed the door with barely a click, then headed for the elevator. True to her word, she remained in character as she exited the building, and headed for Roaches apartment to crash.