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.
Current post count: 1585 (Free mini power growth, so count doesn’t apply right?)
Power Growth or Mini Power Growth: Mini power growth
Growth summary: Amelia will gain a third construct, but it will be entirely beyond her control.
Time frame and lead up summary: (How long do you expect the IC lead up for this growth to be? Will it be a slow process of learning, or a sudden trauma-induced growth? How long will it be before your character gets basic control over the growth? How long until mastery?)
This will be a sudden thing that takes some time for her to truly understand
Growth description (This is the part that will go onto your character profile after the growth is approved. Make sure to list the description, strengths, and weaknesses exactly as you want them to appear.)
Idle hands are the devil’s playthings
Amelia has had a second mental entity within her mind, ever since she was hit by a psychic attack which merged the consciousnesses of her alternate universe self and her own self, within her own body. The psychic attack left the AV self in a persistent vegetative state. Ever since, Amelia has had periods of “black out” moments, or the occasional bout of odd behavior, as if she were being influenced or controlled by this personality. She has another mind within her mind. It has been escaping by working on her clothing enhancement projects while she was unconscious (see last growth), in order to maintain them. It used to work behind the scenes. This entity has now gained the ability to affect things in real-time, while Amelia is cognizant of them.
Amelia has gained a third psychic construct, which can manipulate clothing. It is entirely controlled by Amelia’s AV self, a second psychic entity within her head. Useful, or not useful. Time will tell!
All weaknesses and strengths of the power apply as normal. This is simply an extra 1/3 of the power, a mini growth.
Okay okay okay she had learned her lesson. Amelia sauntered into the room, sighing as she used her leather glove hand construct to punch pies from out of the air.
This would take some cleaning. Even with her imbued element, they might never stop smelling of pie. What cruel fate, this was.
Shepard’s pie, minced meat, bacon and onion tartlets, with tomato jam.
The man was battering the pies. She was feeling batteted as she bobbed, weaved, and let her leather duster tank the impacts of some pies with its enchantment.
“%#^! &)&&! ass fnk!” She swore.
One of the pies, Gordon Ramsay, would have said was dnking raw, you sandwich. They weren’t giving these pies enough time to cook. She would have to get the duster dry cleaned after this.
“Yeah, okay, doorway. I’m gonna give whoever is behind this the rough side of my—“
A tongue meat pie flew at her face. She dove to the side, and rolled out of the way of the thing. Then crawled through the doorway, into the kitchen.
—
Inside the kitchen, there was a man in an oversized chef’s hat, and he said—
At first, the guy did not get it. Did not think leaving was the best idea. He stomped on some pies, got a surprise. Filling didn’t fill the pies any more, it really only filled the floor. But then, it clicked. The idea in his head, it sticked.
He went ‘wait a tick! Someone’s ruining these pies?! What a dick!’
…. Not in those words. But you follow.
He did not wallow. The idea did not make him sad, it did not, it made him mad. Temper, hot. Then he did something very mutant, and made a hole in reality. To produce something for pie fatality?
A baseball bat, now how ‘bout that? Cream pie went splat, in no time, it was flat.
Amelia snagged a chair from the room and started swinging it at pies to clear a path to the back.
“I’ll have you know, the pied piper wasn’t a very sweet individual. He was the pied piper of HAMlin, you know?” She bantered. “We’re lucky we haven’t seen any—“
As they went through a doorway into the next room, a projectile zoom zoom zoomed to impact on the wall next to her. She narrowly ducked the—
“Meat pies!” She swore.
The new room was a meat pie war room. Which, as we all know, is the worst kind of pie. What kind unsavory person was this person?!
The car was being driven by pie. Weird. Dangerous. Inexplicable. Why?
A banana cream pie hit a woman in the face, and was trying to choke her as she clawed at it desperately. Why?
A bunch of pies made an oil slick type effect, somehow. What was the goal here? To create a multi-car pie-le up?!
Pile-up. Jesus.
Why?
Mutant, mystic, or other? What was the cause? Amelia could try and be everywhere at once, try and stomp all these pies, save the cars from careening, sop up the puddle, and so on and so forth, but— what was the root of the mayhem? With that thought on her mind, the Super agent strode towards the back room of the bakery.
“Requesting backup,” she said into a communication device.
As she passed the guy on the floor getting hit by very messy— she stopped that line of thought. She was not going to reference what the pie splatter reminded her of. Let’s keep this rated G, for general audiences.
A near-invisible construct that looked like a see-through hand flew out with a thrust of her arm. It flew to their collar, and yoinked the person out and away from the pies, across the floor of the bakery.
She was uncertain why she was helping this one in familiar. Maybe they looked familiar. A brief meeting moment, in her memory. Fleeting. She did not outright remember him from the mansion fight. It had been a very busy fight. But she kicked a pie off his chest, all the same. And offered him her hand.
A pie flew out at the outstretched arm. She dusted it off with her gloved construct. Bop.
“Come with me if you want to leave.” She said. “I think maybe there’s someone in the back making this mess.”
Outside, the pie-driven car was doing donuts in the street. Because why not?
The address was someone she was already happened, which was convenient, and infuriating. She had been on her way to lunch. Then the call came. Pie-orities changed. Sorry. Priorities.
Pie shop. Loose pies. Crawling?! Concerned citizen report. Super. She was nearest. It was her. So she went.
That was not a pie monster growling. Her stomach demanded she eat something. “Those?” It seemed to ask.
“No floor pie”, her mind insisted.
Her stomach was saddened by the loss. Something else inside of her laughed at the idiocy.
But what to do?!
She was at the entrance of the bakery, pie things rushing past, between her legs. A booted foot stomped one. There was a guy on the floor, covered in pies.
“Lucky,” she murmured.
Pie no clothes. Anything she did, she would needed to do with her own. Did she let the pie out , or keep what she could within the bakery? What were the pie outside doing? That would inform her decision. For the moment, she pulled a leather glove free of a pocket, and filled it with a hand construct. She started swiping at floor pots as they rushed her legs.
The bear, he had a jar like a honey pot. Easily shattered. So, here He took a step back and pulled his head out of the way. Defensive. Her did not want to be shattered.
“Oh, Pooh,” the Russian drawled. “You make me guard.”
He sniffed sharply. A drop of red fell from his snout.
His moves were quick, or would have been if he’d had been prime. But here he had been into something He should not. His back pedal led to a raised guard by his head. It left his bottom half open. A shot whizzed by on his left, but the dart missed. He bobbed his upper half, and kept his guard up. He shuffled his feet, and readjusted himself- but again, He was open below. If someone rushed.
It took them ten minutes to follow the trail, fifteen, tops. It wasn’t the difficulty following that was an issue, but rather the amount ground. Plus the man made big canyons, that turned like a maze. Some p arts, bear had plowed straight through. Others, it had daintily gone around. Then they found him.
He was in the end of a long metal shipping container. In darkness, his eyes seemed to glow red. He was fifty feet away, she surveyed through her scope. As he stepped into the light, further details became noticed. Foam at his mouth, box on his muzzle. Mainly near his nose. Sneezed red, sinuses torn. From Coca-Cola.
At 45 feet, he saw them. Recognition lit up his eyes as he approached. He sat back on his haunches for a moment, thinking. His paws also had brown and red spots. He had hit metal and wooden crates, hard. Consequence. He…
He rested his head on one paw, that arm propped against an arm that was across his lap.
It startled her. At first, Amelia thought the sound that came from him had been a throaty, running growl. But it has actually been a rough voice, like someone strained their throat with bloody screaming. Had he said…?
"HALLOOO!" He growled again, Louder. He had a thick Russian accent.
Then saw their weapons. Paw tapped forehead. Recalculating. “Think, think, think. Oh bother.” Could bears frown? He managed. “Noctua always says never get caught, and he is wise. If I were, they’d be mad and send Lepus to remonstrate me. Oh bother, what to do?”
After a moments thought, he stood… And adopted a fighting stance. It almost looked like… karate.
Quietly, she said to the ranger… “A ferocious bear who uses a variation of the Heihachi Mishima style of karate.” She realized she was quoting a fighting game character article.
“COME AT ME, bro.”
“Uh. F-fight him. I’ll shoot him when he’s open.” Amelia said.
The standard established for Telazol use by the Interagency Grizzly Bear Study Team is 250 mg per 100 lbs.; additional Telazol may be administered if needed via intramuscular hand injection. The dosage established for Telazol is 1 ml/100lbs. This is what lab people had told her, regarding tranquilizers.
The TeleDart RD706 remote injection gun is an extremely accurate, very high-quality dart gun, which is suitable for long distances of up to 70 meters (230 feet). This is what they had.
Smarter minds than hers had handled dosages long ago, for various types of mutants… but it basically amounted to “shoot it many times. Until you know.”
He could punch. He could shoot. He had more destructive things and so did she, but—the goal was to take the bear alive.
He said it would be a hard call to make until they were there. He could restrain the bear… and she could shoot it with the tranqs.
“That’s plan 1.” She said, without adding a well-deserved eye roll. “Suplex the bear.” They were serious folks, here. No sarcasm, nope.
—
They went to the warehouse district by the docks, where the bear was on a tear. It was not hard to find the bear there. He had a flare. For destruction. She had not even blared Taylor Swift on the CD player the entire ride over. Only some. Hey. She would stare directly in the sun, but never in the mirror.
Amelia unpacked a large bag shaped like a tube, and hung it over her back by a strap. Then, she unpacked the tranquilizer dart and a bandolier of darts. Slung those over her bulletproof duster. Tugged on her bulletproof gloves. Against a bear, none of that would likely matter. But it made her feel better, all the same.
She offered The Ranger a crack at what was left in the trunk. Lots of rifles and shotguns and handguns and flash grenades, and other stuff people had been very creative in assembling. Did she have accessories for vampires in the kitty? Who the hell did anyone think she was?! She never parked this specific vehicle on the streets, for obvious reasons. This was the company car… that she had played music in. Don’t judge.
Once they were set, they started hunting bear. It wasn’t hard. They simply had to follow the trail of overturned boxes and torn metal.
All the important things got taken care of. Victim, consoled. Statements, given. Police, handled. Super, contacted, dealt with. Cab driver waited, and was paid well for their time.
Amelia took the woman to the office where they could sort out the processes of dealing with paperwork and eventually getting them into super ranks. There would be vetting, probationary times probably, lots of stuff, but… the process had begun. They even arranged a place for Kendra to stay.
Amelia went home. She made herself tea drink. The kind that calms you down and helps you rest. She read a book, and digested the evening. Got her mind in that mood. Decompressed. It had been a long, sleepless night. End
There were sounds of a few sets of feet outside the apartment. It seemed as if the police she had called were working their ways to the room. Not there yet, though.
It was Cheshire. Amelia was tired enough not to care that she had known he was around, and STILL shouted at him to freeze and acted as if he were the criminal.
Kendra was asking what to do, and Amelia just said: “Okay. Go check on the woman in the closet. Make sure that she is alright.” Left unsaid were the words ‘and he is telling the truth.’ She could be paranoid. It was a free country.
The man in the biker helmet was turned towards her, the one seemingly in charge. The one who had talked less, but been asked more. He had never really stopped watching her. Makes sense, she had shouted freeze. She could have a concealed weapon.
To Cheshire, she said: “You stay here until police arrive. They’re going to want a statement.”
The man suddenly sprang up from his position, to cling to the ceiling. No matter how much training one takes, it never really prepares you for that. He skittered towards the nearest exit, a doorway in the room that lead to a window. He was going to run away without giving a statement…
She could have drawn a gun, could have used her power to do a great many things, but— she was tired, and what was the point. She let the man go. As far as she was concerned, he was never there (until it became relevant).
He escaped moments before the police arrived. She turned to them. “The guy who tossed a woman out a window is on the ground. My invisible partner is checking on the second woman in the next room. Should be right back—“ Amelia said.
This was… far more complicated than previously thought. She needed… a closet, for which she needed a lock pick to pick locks.
People were potentially in danger, could be dying, and she had to pick locks. Couldn’t she just tranq herself, and they’d put the body by the door and just be okay with that…? Was that a big ask? Was that wrong?
And also, if she could pick locks, why hadn’t she just picked the locked door they needed to get past?
“Hrm…”
Amelia turned, and tried the locked door again. Time, essence. Nope.
A whole six minutes passed during which Amelia knocked frantically on the apartment door, tried to break it down with her shoulder, and used her cellphone to alert the police. She shared that she was with SUPER, but they needed someone to enter the apartment, and—
Cops can be real jerks, laughing like that.
She would have bothered Kendra in her closet, if she had retained the patience. What she needed, for the future, was her own set of lock picks, and laxer standards.
By the time Kendra had actually done something, Amelia had all but forgotten her. One. More! Shove!!
She rammed it with her shoulder, the very moment the door swung inwards. Amelia came tumbling through. She caught herself, rather than fall on the floor.
It was dark within the apartment, with the only light from windows and from the hall outside. It was quiet, though, which was a very bad sign. There had been screwsmung up until there wasn’t.
Cautiously, she shuffled into the next room.
There were two shapes in the dark. One was on the floor, not moving. The other was kneeling over the first. They seemed to be doing to the persons wrists, as they pressed a knee into their back. They had a rounded head shape to their form.
Ugh. There should be a law against elevator music and using this song. There should also be a law against people singing along to the song. In confined spaces, where one could not avoid them. It was almost enough to make her a bit punchy.
Amelia took a breath, and calmed herself so she could focus on the fact she was taking herself and another into a fight against an unknown person who may or may not be an enemy. It is possible the falling woman had been an accident. It is also possible it was not, which was what assumption she was operating under.
The doors finally opened once the elevator stopped, and she followed Kendra out.
Kendra drew her tranq gun.
>> "Pretty sure this is where I saw'em come in." She had her gun up like some sort of police officer. Amelia arched one eyebrow. "Split up and look for the asshole?" Kendra asked.
“Absolutely not,” Amelia replied. “Hey, can I—“
Another scream cut through the air of the apartments, and Amelia muttered a quick “Never mind” as she ran towards the sound of the voice, taking lead. Whatever she had been about to say, it did not matter any more.
They reached the place because someone was still screaming. Amelia spun to face Kendra.
“Tranq yourself and unlock the door from the other side. It’s locked and they need help.” She suggested. “How many shots are left in that anyway?”
Who had lead? She was Ill-suited to being the offensive end of this mission. Part of her incredulity had been due to the simple fact that her mutation worked on clothes, and the polar bear had no clothes. It had to have been a joke. But if they were serious, then she would take lead. And delegate. Be an offensive coordinator for coke bear mission.
“I will take lead.” She said. “But I value input. Follow me.”
Another part of her incredulity had been a bruised ego, and needing help. But she actually needed help, nudity was her number one weakness after all.
She nodded to the boss man, then started walking out the door: they could speak more in the car.
Along the way, she was quiet. Thinking. They would take her vehicle. The trunk was full of tools.
What did she know of this Ranger character? Not much. He shot trouble. She could use that. Again, delegate.
She unlocked the car and held the passenger door open for him. Then, she got in and started the car. Before she left, she turned to him.
“My power works on clothes and bears don’t wear clothes, so the trunk is full of tranquilizer rifles and assorted toys. I am hoping you will be able to help me here, and I’m not too proud to admit I value the help. I’d you have any suggestions before we leave, any gear you want got, we can get it. I can play coach but your power will be more useful today. You be quarterback. We will figure out the play.”
>> "Haven't seen home in years, but Georgia. Augusta actually. Just a peach pit in a whole orchard."
Amelia nodded. It was not really an answer, because it spoke of her past and not her present. Amelia let the woman get there. She did not rush.
She was between residences presently. Hmm. Blushing about it, it embarrassed her. Amelia didn’t say anything. She didn’t want to embarrass the woman more. She started talking, to fill the space.
>> "Ya know. I thought when you found me out i had really stepped in it. I was like, great going girl. You done picked a whole Boquete of oopsie daisies. But'chur not like that. You're a good person. I can tell. Got a knack for these sorta thangs. You would definitely be good cop. No doubt about it.”
“Thank you,” Amelia said. Cool, calm, collected. That was what the woman took from her. It wasn’t her, through. She just had learned some restraint… and in her day to day life, she rarely showed it. She must have showed it that day, if someone thought she was anything other than trouble. But she supposed she could be a good cop, even though she had been fired from the actual police force for being a bad, absentee, cop… she could at least be a good person. “I try.” She added.
A voice in the back of her mind spoke, and yes, it was Yoda from Star Wars. He had a lot to say on trying.
>> "I don't suppose you got a couch I can sleep on a night or two?"
O-ohh… oh, no. If she was trying to be a good person, that was absolutely something she ought not to do. She had restraint. She could be proper. But her first thought with this woman had basically been “she’s kind of cute, I should get her number.” On no planet did that mean “offer her your couch.” It just lead to too many bad places.
“I can find you somewhere to stay,” she said. “But I don’t think it will be my couch. I think SUPER has crash rooms, similar to hospital ‘on-call’ rooms. And we can find an apartment or something, probably…” she said.
She wasn’t really sure. There were options, but the woman was an unknown and she did not want to promise too much. Her place would have been a good place, if she knew the woman more and was not being Proper. The important thing was, they would find something that worked for them, and she would have… something. If only the mansion has not been destroyed.
They did not dwell too long on the subject because they got distracted.
>> "Hey uh.... Do we stop mutant break ins?"
Amelia turned to look at her. “H-huh?”
>> "I thank that guy just broke into that building.”
SUPER Was not the police. They usually did not respond to burglaries. They responded to violent mutant attacks, violent mystic attacks, sometimes humans doing bad things… but generally, the police handled stuff like breaking and entering.
It was late. She did not want to take longer getting this recruit to the office so she could be recruited. Amelia did not like letting her down like this, she probably wanted adventures. But seeking adventures wholeheartedly seemed like a nightmare to her.
Plus, where was the person breaking into? Looked like a fairly high floor. She did not want to climb that many flights of stairs, and could not fly. Stopping, getting inside the building (which probably had security), finding and riding an elevator… when things like this happened, they usually happened fast. And there was also the risk that either she, or Kendra, might get injured doing an unassigned mission. And then Amelia would be in trouble.
The driver glanced back at them. Amelia told him “Keep going.”
She tuned to Kendra. “Sorry. I’ll call the police now. That’s usually their job: we respond to violent mutant attacks and that sort of thing. And—“ A scream from several stories up caught her attention, a falling body.
Before she could react, the car had slowed to a stop, and a black and yellow blur had passed above them to catch the woman and stop, feet and one hand pressed to the side of the building.
It was a figure around 6’ tall, in jeans and a black leather jacket, with some sort of weird shoes on his feet. They looked almost like boots, except they seemed at this moment to look half-finished. Like they were all toe and no sole. He (they) wore a yellow smiley face motorcycle helmet, and the woman who had just been caught had her arms wrapped around their shoulders in a death grip. She was crying.
That changed things.
Amelia put down a bunch of cash, which should cover fare and tip, then stepped out of the cab. She did not wait to see if Kendra would follow.
This was a nightmare, an absolute nightmare. This night just kept going on and on. She was bound to get in trouble for this. Super did kind of act when things got violent and they saw.
She saw the mutant hero several stories above them. They were walking down the side of the building like it was regular ground. Amelia had heard of this hero. Cheshire was his name… because he wore helmets with smiles on them. He seemed like the jumping, acrobatics type. Lots of kicks and stuff.
Amelia rushed to the building entrance, and flashed her badge, then turned and directed a hopefully following Kendra to follow. She got them an elevator.
“What floor was it again? I guess they’re violent now. Maybe we will have backup from Cheshire…”
The elevator would take them wherever Kendra said.
((oOc Cheshire is one of my characters so I’ll move him if he moves, take us where you want and set the scene please!))
“The ancient commercials are on again, m&ms creeping up on a fat man. Polar bears with bottles they absolutely could not possibly open without thumbs.”
“Not that I’ve seen, no.” The agent eyed her.
Amelia eyed him back. “So, this bear mutant.”
“Polar bear shifter.” He said.
“Not the one from the x mansion. The one who helped with—“
“With the wizards?” He finished for her. “Thank god, no. That one’s just a kid. He’s a grown man. Goes by Ursa Major,” he laughed.
“So repeat the situation one more time…?” Amelia requested.
“One moment. They’re about to let him in. There.” A door opened. “Thank you for coming,” he turned to address the newcomer. A male. Looked smart. “We brought you in because our agent needs backup on this.”
“I do?” Amelia asked. He continued, as if she had not spoken.
“A 30 year old drug dealer has stolen a shipment of cocaine. He must have tried some of it, to ascertain quality, or whatever, but the substance interactions with his mutation have been frightening. Currently, we are in hour two of his rampage in the warehouse districts by the docks. You know the ones. We have cleared the area of workers currently, and kept it off the news, but we need your assistance to take him down and bring him in alive. Local law enforcement wants to use him for information. Target is a full-grown polar bear shifter, high on cocaine, and angry-“
“Can’t believe this…” Amelia cut in.
“Mr. Hunter, can you help?”
Everyone in the room looked to the ranger for confirmation. The brown-haired woman in a black duster looked annoyed.