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 Pharoah Dynasty
An ancient sorceress is on a quest to bring her long-lost warrior-king to the modern era in a bid for global domination. Can the heroes of the modern world stop her before all is lost?
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.
The annual FDNY/NYPD sack race & potluck. For 47 years the two departments have been competing in what they considered their own olympics. Wheelbarrow races, three legged race, cookoff, hot dog eating, tug of war, and the ultimate challenge. The sack race.
For the past two years FDNY had won the sack race and held the coveted golden sackie. The firemen were not letting the officers live it down. However, many of the officers from the NYPD felt that year was their year
Sam arrived at Central Park to represent MRC in the festivities. The joke of the day was that while FDNY had trained for the cooking and eating competitions, NYPD had showed up to win the races and tug of war. Sam did hear a fireman joking about the police needing power rings. Sam did notice there was a distinct lack of a donut eating contest.
The sign up for the events wasn’t hard to find. A wooden stand with strobing red and blues at the top. Sam signed up for all the events and was given a number to pin to his shirt. 66.
“Alright big guy, the events are about to begin so go on over and make us proud,” said Antonio and he stepped up to the grill beside Rex.
“Already?” Rex said to his coworker. Rex had only been back on active duty for a month or so and it was still taking some getting used to after just over a year-long hiatus..
“Yeah man!” Antonio slapped Rex on the back. “We missed you last year, so go show those donut-munchers how it’s done!”
“Very well,” Rex complied. He handed Antonio the tongs and he removed his plain black apron. Rex had volunteered to kick off the grilling for the hot dog contest later.
The firefighter made his way through the rest of fire department territory until he reached the sign up board himself. “In for a penny…” he muttered to himself, to the shock of the coworkers around him that knew him and his lack of verbosity. He put his name down on the first event of the list. Maybe that would satisfy Antonio.
One of the event officiants, a tall man who worked for the city—affiliated with neither the FDNY nor the NYPD—held up a megaphone and announced, “The three-legged race will begin shortly. All those who are signed up head to the starting line.”
Sam made his way toward the starting line. On the way he slid into a group of MRC officers.
“We got this this year! Even if Daryl can’t compete”
“Well it’s cheating a bit if you already have three legs.”
“Oh har-har. He’s got a big member. Grow up.” One of the female officers scoffed.
“No, he actually has a third leg! He’s over there, look.”
“...Oh! I’ve never seen him around before.”
“Works out of the 99.”
“That explains it, I’m never in Brooklyn.”
At the starting line, another city employee was pairing everyone up. She counted everyone, looked at her clipboard, counted again. Her face told the story that something was amiss. She spoke over her radio and after hearing back made the announcement, “We have an odd number of contestants. Don’t fret, in the interest if interdepartmental cooperation we’re drawing numbers from a hat. One lucky firefighter and another lucky police officer will get to work together.”
There was a series of groans that filled the gap while a hat with numbers was set in front of the official. She reached in and drew the first number, “66!”
Sam sighed. Just his luck, saddled with a cook who liked to attend sleepovers.
Almost no time at all passed from Rex signing the paper before it was whisked away. He’d only just started pinning his own number to his shirt when the first competition was to be announced. The three-legged race? Wait, that was the one he’d signed up for, wasn’t it?
“Let’s get this over with,” Rex said as he moved toward the starting line. He didn’t have a bad attitude toward the competitions, per se. He actually really enjoyed the physical side of it all, and morale was very important. Everyone needed to blow off steam. Rex just wasn’t feeling like himself anymore. He wasn’t the same man he was, even a year ago.
“66!” said the woman. Rex snorted quietly as he infiltrated the back of the group. Like most of the fire department, he was dressed in shorts, tennis shoes, and an official department t-shirt. He reached back as he lifted a leg and began to stretch while he waited for the number of the unlucky soul to be called who’d have to team up with the cop. How who they even decide who the winner was?
“Number 77!” was the shout.
Rex frowned. He looked down. “Heaven help me,” he said as he stared at the big 77 pinned to his chest.
He started making his way over to the starting line to find out who his new partner was, studiously ignoring the catcalls and slaps on the back as his fellow firefighters began cheering and ragging on him.
“Hey Sam, think your partner will grill something for you after the race?”
“...Or maybe he’ll just nap through it. You can lug the dead weight right, Tex?”
The other police were in rare form. Giving Sam encouragement and all the love knowing he was to be saddled with a firefighter. Their culinary brothers in arms who love sleepovers.
When the number ‘77’ was called, Sam looked around for which firefighter he was to be competing with. It wasn’t hard to notice who it was. Firefighter in question was preceded by catcalls. It was when Sam’s race partner broke through the crowd that Sam saw who it was.
Of all the firefighters in the city, it was one Sam had worked with to handle a trio of mutants.
”Howdy, Rex. Funny runnin’ into you again here.” Sam looked around at the police and firefighters who had both found common ground in jeering their unlucky comrades. ”Ready to win?”
Rex crossed the threshold that separated the blue and red throngs and entered the no-man’s land. It made it easy to find his partner. Number 66 had also been ousted from his domain. Number 66 was also familiar.
“Sam,” Rex said in acknowledgement. He nodded his head briefly in greeting and extended a hand. He had a strong handshake, the kind derived from someone used to swinging axes, holding high pressure fire hoses steady, and gripping people and objects for dear life. He tried his best to ignore his comrades and their increase in good-natured insults as the two joined forces.
“Should’ve known this would happen,” Rex said. He had very bad luck, getting paired up with the one cop who wanted to be sociable with a firefighter. Why couldn’t it have been one of the sullen, mule headed boys in blue who only knew how to miswrite tickets and binge on donuts?
He narrowed his eyes only slightly and shrugged. “Sure,” he said. “Who knows? We might get…lucky…” he said with a slight emphasis. There had certainly been a lot of…luck…the last time they’d encountered one another.
