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.
Sveta graced him with her touch and the world opened to him. A weave of energies crisscrossed the sky and while the fire was dangerous, harmful it too was part of the natural world. Its light and heat shone. He also felt the ability to pull together moisture, to encourage its manipulation was easier. Instead of drawing up a bucket from a deep well he was ringing out a wet towel. The rain strengthtened.
He joked how rare touching was and then thought better of his words. Sveta knew and she agreed, commenting the same.
>> "Touching someone and not feeling my powers affecting them is rare for me in general, so I know how you feel. Maybe we are just not really touchy-feely people, hm? It is what it is..."
Devon smiled, “Maybe I’m talking to the right person.” His eyes caught sight of the sudden coolness of the rain and the spike of heat. The tree was burning from the inside.
With a swift gesture, a column of wind rose from the ground and a snap announced the falling of the tree. The column caught it as Tempest narrowed his dark eyes and brought the tree down away from them. He inhaled slowly and focused his thoughts, his attention. “Sorry for the surprise. I’m tired enough there’s no way I would have caught that so quickly without you.”
“And that’s what I mean, you’re the right person,” Devon spoke as he looked around them in a slow 360 even as they moved forward. It was almost like they were dancing as the spun slowly while drifting across the now wetted burnt underbrush and leaves. “Maybe we’re more touchy-feel than others. You have a great care and consideration for others; I’m a psychologist. You truly do inspire others and not just through your power. I’m guarded personally because I get invested in others easily and want to help them, which I’m proud of. So what if we’re careful about who gets this close. It’s not like we are cut off, simply wise about the boundaries we need to live with what works for us.”
He chuckled, “Or maybe I’m just trying to rationalize it.”
Devon nodded slowly; he’d heard things from his police and political connections but he’d go along to see if they could get along. His eyes widened a bit at the comments that followed however. Surprise crept through Devon’s feelings. There was a little interest and admiration as well. It wasn’t a strong feeling, but it was there and Devon didn’t compartmentalize them away. He clearly liked what he heard on Franklin’s views.
He too grinned as the grin that spread across the detective’s face. It became a sudden laugh at the Detective’s admission. “Three hours,” Devon smiled, nodding, “Oh okay then… well I appreciate you coming here so quickly on your tour of the city.”
“As for Sanctuary, it was traditionally a homeless shelter. It’s in Brooklyn, South Slope area. For years it had a tenuous relationship with the city, known more for dangerous elements than a positive presence. It had a large mutant residency due to the frequency of mutants being kicked out of their homes or unable to find jobs,” Devon explained with a frown. “A resistance group that had some violent membership also lived there. Don’t think I agree with their violence but they also were helpful in the dismantling of the concentration camps overseas and saving a number of young mutants. However, things have changed.”
Devon smiled with pride and joy in his heart, “We had been changing things at Sanctuary. The Order was gone. Previous members visited once and a while but to make sure people there were safe, not to cause a problem. More and more young minors and those in need were coming in. Not only that but there were dangerous gangs trying to control the area. We wanted to help protect the community that was starting to trust us, so we reached out and eventually got an officer to visit and become a liason. Officer Cafas Johnson, also an X-Man. He helped stop one of those gang members on his first visit and it became clear – I think – we were on the up and up.”
“I can give you more detail, but I’m going to try and summarize the rest. After the terrorist anti-mutant bombing at the shelter in Odessa Texas we made it a point to get very involved in the community and with the city,” the young man frowned and that touch of anger rose and was pushed away as he took a slow breath. “We had a block party and invited everyone. We got new donors, new volunteers, and made sure it was clear: Sanctuary was to help those in need. It was difficult, it took time, but it happened for everyone.”
Devon nodded slightly, “To bring it back to your goal: It’d be a great place for a few officers to donate their time, though in civilian clothing. Haven now primarily funds Sanctuary with other generous donors, and we promote a number of programs with them. So I’m sure we could figure something out.”
Devon gave a quick single nod as the detective turned him down. Still the gentle smile remained on his face as Franklin went on. It grew to a grin by the end of the suggestion offered.
“Not long ago now but I guess over 2 year ago things were pretty strained. I had to beg for a meeting with the police on the topic of Sanctuary-“ Devon paused, eyebrow arching. “Are you familiar with Sanctuary? Forgive me Detective I’m not sure how new you are to the city.”
Devon poured himself a drink, listening as he glanced back when Franklin mentioned his supportive parents. Thankfulness, joy, and even admiration went through him. It softened and he too put those aside as he joined the detective at the table. Even these pleasurable emotions seemed individually addressed and then put aside carefully.
As Frankin’s eyes grew glassy, Devon’s softened. He nodded slowly, frowning slightly at the scenes described. Again that sorrow rose with a mixture of anger and shame but all three were minor compared to the man’s concern, his empathy as mundane as it might have been. Devon nodded slowly as if to affirm he was there listening to the suddenly quite emotional man.
That nod grew to a single, strong one at the final declaration. “I see why you joined the force then,” Devon's smile grew back, his voice quieter in tone then it had been before. “That’s both noble and good of you, especially considering the privilege you had in your youth and development. Not everyone experiences such and is willing to face the ugly side of this world, let alone actively work to change it. I am sorry for what you have seen. I certainly see why the Captain asked you to pay Haven a visit.”
Devon sipped his water then, taking a careful breath. All feelings welling within the young man were one by one addressed though the concern lingered. “Maybe there’s another reason besides aiding Haven’s activities that you’ve come to speak with me?” Devon queried. “It’s really my honor to help discuss anything you need or want to. Confidential of course,” he nodded, smiling gently.
Devon smiled gently, echoing much of the thankfulness that ran through his emotions. Within a couple seconds of his quieting the spike of sorrow and other feelings seemed to quell one by one as if each was focused upon, addressed, and put aside. They were gone, no, but they were organized and diminished. In that time, Devon listened to the officer.
The smile grew at the mention of the captain and renewed MRC activity. “That’s great to hear,” the younger man nodded. “About the partnership in the programs and for your personal experience.”
He frowned slightly, a mixture of sympathetic sadness, shame, and even anger rising as he spoke. “It’s extremely unfortunate what some have experienced, have seen and it’s not only mutants. Even still, some here are luckier than those overseas. We’ve done a great deal to assist those seeking asylum, but it’s not easy with our current federal leadership and administration…” He shook his head, took a slow breath, and those emotions went back to their compartments as pride and hope rose.
“We do what we can here. There are amazing people working to better the situation for others all over the country and beyond. Some want to learn how to help, some just want to see how they can financially assist, and some have time they want to give. We encourage education and outreach, but we’re happy to provide a roof for all those individuals to come together. You rest, you learn, you grow, and then you head out of the house to help others. That’s the Haven,” he chuckled.
Devon gestured into the meeting room they neared, a large circular table at its center with maybe eight seats around it. A tray of glasses, water, ice, and even some snacks include wrapped peanut butter crackers and fresh fruit was present on a wallside buffet table. “Please,” he encouraged. “Else I’ll run you all over the building and won’t ever shut up,” he chuckled. He closed the door behind them.
"More water?" he asked, walking to pour himself a glass. "And maybe I should ask more of you instead of rambling on. Tell me more about your experience, learning you were a mutant... Why do you say you were lucky?"
Devon had winked in Jack’s direction when he caught a flash of the strobe in his eye. As it faded – or rather didn’t – did he realize something else was happening. How many hours in the last year had he warred with himself over his failures last Halloween? How long had he practiced and worked to better his mind for new defenses, better focus, clarity of the mind’s eye?
Not long enough.
He felt it like the white light was burning away everything past his eyes but unfortunately it was too fast for him to hit the panic button. Security wouldn’t be alarmed though little did he know how many were affected. His last thought as Devon was lost in the white haze were the numerous innocent people around him.
Maleficent remained disturbed. Why was she in this macabre, reeking place of humanity? It was false even for them. False fire as if this was some hellish party? What did they celebrate? Had they captured him in the night? At least another dark spirit lingered nearby, clad in darkness and knowing of Death. Maleficent gave a quick nod in its direction.
Some woman yelled at him. She grabbed him and his nostrils flared as his top lip curled in a snarl. His wings burst open as they found a breeze he had not felt before. “Unhand me, human,” the snarl continued. But he caught sight of all the other creatures dashing around, screaming, the chaos… Was this place under attack?
“I do not know yet why I am here, human, but I know not of this palace, this Han you speak of,” he shook his head and with his right hand, pushed her away forcefully though not violently. His attention turned to the little girl at his side, “You… Beastie… How come we by this frightful scene?”
“You’re quite welcome,” Devon replied quickly, ever pleased for a good hand shake. It was an old tradition after all… “I never want to turn anyone away and I’m always happy to have a visitor from the MRC. Important we all work together.”
His eyes widened a bit at the question of Haven however. He paled a bit and shook his head quickly, “Oh no… no. I guess I should explain a bit more about Haven,” he nodded then. A rush of guilt ran through him, replaced by a strong sorrow but resolve and a touch of excitement. He was proud, but the sadness lingered as he spoke, “Haven is a charitable organization, 501c3 non profit. I don’t own it. I don’t own the building.” He stopped, glancing up a moment, “Well a part of it.”
He gestured away from the seats and toward the elevators, but as he walked he went to the north hall. “Haven opened little more than a year and a half ago to support volunteers in education and their efforts while connecting those who could contribute through financial or other means. I was graduating and had started a business for psychological treatment, which are the embarrassingly named Hadden’s Havens,” he blushed ever so slightly. They passed a few open doors leading into large conference rooms. One had a group speaking on campaigning for bills they would be helping to inform voters on.
“I’d met quite a few politicians and some investors from our work at Sanctuary and they saw what we were doing at the Havens so they wanted to get more involved, especially financially,” he nodded, the sorrow and a rush of shame flooding him even as he smiled. The sadness was in his eyes as he spoke, “As I had a good inheritance my grandparents opened to me as I neared graduation but I never could have done all this.” He shook his head as they walked on, passing a few rooms clearly set up as classrooms.
“We have an executive team, a board of investors, various high profile donors… And many, many volunteers and fine educators. We only recently opened up the mutant support seminars and training,” he smiled. “I’m particularly proud of that. We’d been doing some at Sanctuary and I’ve got a few programs at the Havens for those having trouble with their mutations or accepting those difficulties, but…”
Devon blinked and grimaced, the embarrassment clear on his face. “I’m sorry, I very much ramble when I get on the topic of Haven. Forgive my excitement. A little ways up ahead Ms. Frost reserved us a smaller room for us to sit and talk.”
“Mr. Hadden will be down in a moment,” the middle-forties blonde at the front desk said with a smile, approaching with a small wooden tray. She set it down on the table before the sofa. “Some water and your visitor’s badge, Detective Shinnick. Please let me know if I can get you anything further.” She turned a high-heeled shoe away and went back to the large desk along the far wall.
The front entry doors were two sets of pressure-treated glass set in wooden frames and banded in a polished alloy that appeared bronze. The ceiling was high and large pillars supported it while the seating area occupied the area between them. A wall of elevators presumably led to the numerous floors above though there was a hall running in either direction. The other wall had a set of large black doors, carved with a fiery motif closing off the entrance to the Inferno club.
People came and went, often down one hall to the north. Eventually somewhere between five and ten minutes later one of the elevator doors opened and a young man of taller, though lean stature exited. Simple slacks, a gray shirt, and a light black suit jacket adorned him. He smiled as he hurried in his approach.
“Ah, Detective Shinnick?” he asked, a warm tone to his sincere question as he gave a quick nod. Brilliant blue eyes quickly appraised the man before him. “Sorry for the delay. I’m Devon Hadden, very nice to meet you.” He offered his hand for a firm shake; Blaine was a good trainer after all. “Thank you, Ms. Frost,“ he added, giving a wave with the other hand to the receptionist.
The proverbial "light" has hit the fan and everyone else! Unless an Adapted or protected by an Adapted's field, your character takes on the "mindset" and/or persona of their costume. Not only that, but their physicality changes as well! Wings, horns, whiskers, undead appearance, etc. Note this does not grant your character a host of new abilities, though some things might make sense like limited flight, surviving exposed organs, passing through walls like a ghost, etc.
Also with the altered mindset/personality/memories your character might still react with wonder, concern, worry, etc. about what's happening!
In time I'll look for those seeking a) what's going on or b) who did this/why. Yes, I chose EllaLouise Gartner for a special glimpse of something (someone?) important to the story.
Without warning a blaring white light spider webbed shot over the grounds, through branches, between bushes, and into the darkness of the night. It shone blindingly bright before suddenly ending. In its wake people screamed, shouted, howled, ran, and laughed.
The jabberwocky roared in mighty fervor now giving chase to a large white rabbit and a strangely striped large cat man. A ninja climbed the hedge and dashed toward a copse of trees. A scuba diver looked around in confusion.
The jabberwocky roared once again.
((OOC: Yes, that's right! Not only is your mind like that of your costume, but so too had your physical body morphed! Note this does not grant any new abilities save for possible survival of exposed organs if a zombie, limited ability to walk through walls as a ghost, etc.))
Without warning a blaring white light spider webbed through the castle, under cracks, and even into the darkness of the basement. It shone blindingly bright before suddenly ending. In its wake people screamed, shouted, howled, ran, and laughed.
Two knights, one arrayed in red and one blue, suddenly began to fight. A snake-haired woman hissed and chased at a man, the snakes suddenly all too alive. Chaos claimed the castle as the King outside rushed in to call his guards for protection.
“Guards, to me, to me!” he screamed.
((OOC: Yes, that's right! Not only is your mind like that of your costume, but so too had your physical body morphed! Note this does not grant any new abilities save for possible survival of exposed organs if a zombie, limited ability to walk through walls as a ghost, etc.))
The dance floor may have been far more compelling to not-so-young EllaLouise as she was advised by one socialite only to be introduced by another. Grim Death stood cautiously watching the Leia-like as the partying masses danced in a throng twisted up on itself in the hellish fires and twisted lights of the dance floor.
A heavy, beating bass accosted the floors and ears as the DJ spun up a remix of Marilyn Manson’s alternative Sweet Dreams. What dream was this really? Did the fugue state of the revelers please them past the hum drum human morality? Such was not for dear, sweet EllaLouise.
But there was someone different on the dance floor, her short stature eerily set apart. A glimpse or two of her caught the costumed-Alice’s attention only for the figure to be lost in the crowd for a few stanzas. But then there she was: a damaged porcelain doll in black and white, her unblinking blue-gray eyes finding L’s as if studying the very trace of dark color in them.
Marilyn’s husky voice whispered and echoed somehow through the hall as the strobe lights flashed.
Some of them want to use you Some of them want to be used by you Some of them want to abuse you Some of them want to be abused
The girl seemed to smile as she stopped dancing, though the guilty uncaring carried on around her. Her face was somehow whiter – no, the cracks were shining and then suddenly brilliant. The light radiated white as the strobes flashed, hidden within the luminous party atmosphere. It flowed out as the girl’s head rolled on her shoulders and her mouth fell open though seemingly silent against the blaring music. People suddenly shouted, their dancing a chaotic mass as the girl was lost in the commotion. Limbs flew, people dashed aside or crumbled to the floor.
Some powerful malevolence, perhaps fueled by dangerous cracks in rifted reality or psychic mindscapes tortured a year prior, flowed through all not Adapted or saved by them. Their minds blanked and found they could only imprint upon that which they wore. No, not what they wore, but what they are. Bodies took on their costumes as long knives melded to the fingers of one man. Whiskers and cat ears become part of the girl scratching at the floor. A zombie clutched at suddenly all too real exposed organs.
Screams, hollers, howls, and deranged laughs filled the night as a clown ran by, honking his nose.
((OOC: Yes, that's right! Not only is your mind like that of your costume, but so too had your physical body morphed! Note this does not grant any new abilities save for possible survival of exposed organs if a zombie, limited ability to walk through walls as a ghost, etc.))
Ladies and gentlemen, I gave it a few days as people seemed to enjoy chatting/meeting but tomorrow night the real Halloween event begins! Join now if you haven't already!