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.
“Okay,” Katrina agreed. She was pretty sure she could eliminate some of the mistakes she had made earlier in the music with a second chance through it. “I don’t really remember all of the orchestra parts, but I’ll add all the parts I do remember.”
Katrina cued the start of the piece again. This time she actively imagined the rest of the orchestra playing along with them. This time it didn’t fade in and out, but remained steady, if somewhat incomplete. To Katrina’s ears it sounded almost ghostly. She could definitely hear it, but she couldn’t quite tell if it was real or if it was just in her head. All the same, it sounded cool.
Hunter began playing again and heard the orchestra loud and clear. While simultaneously playing he focused on trying to filter out the sound. He knew it wasn’t real, so tried to not just ignore it, but dismiss it. By the end of the piece he had managed to reduce it in volume, but it wasn’t enough for him. Still, he would work on that later.
“Very good Katrina,” he praised, “I think you’re the youngest person I’ve seen get that right. I was much older than you before I got the hang of it.” 103 years older to be precise. “So what do you think of combining your music practise with practising your illusions?”
Katrina was glad that he liked her playing. Mr. Antonytail was such a good musician himself that praise from him seemed more meaningful. She was starting to get comfortable playing with him and talking to him too. At first Mr. Antonytail had seemed very imposing and businesslike, but maybe that was because he had so much responsibility on his hands. Now he seemed almost fatherly. Her own father could be like that at times. Katrina pushed that thought out of her head; she didn’t want to think about her father right now. Instead, she went back to the subject of music and illusions.
“I liked playing music and practicing illusions at the same time. It’s kind of challenging because I have to do two things at once and it’s hard for me to concentrate on lots of things at one time. But the music and illusions seem to fit together so well that it makes it easier.” It was easier than trying to use two kinds of illusions at once, probably because playing oboe was something that she already knew how to do.
“Well how about this then?” asked Hunter, “This time when we play, instead of giving the illusion of an orchestra, make one of a ballroom full of people dancing. Do you think you can do that?”
The rational part of him said that he proposed this to practise defending from illusions, but a deeper, more emotional part had an ulterior motive. Despite his decreed after Katharine’s death to never get close to anyone again, he had to a degree with Paragon, and looked to be about to do so again with Katrina. The mentioning of her family rejecting her had struck a chord with Hunter, perhaps from Paragon’s rejection of him.
He had already decided that he would keep this girl safe, from both human and mutant forces. Unlike with Paragon he would not try to distance himself, but instead shelter her from both the outside world and the darker parts of himself. He would not make the same mistake twice.
“I’ll try!” Katrina was eager to please. It was fun and challenging to work on illusions this way. Could she create the illusion of a whole ballroom? She took a moment to think things through. This would be a big illusion. The whole room would have to be changed. So far all she had done was make a book look like a sunflower. Would it be any different making a music conservatory look like a ballroom?
Katrina took a big breath and they started the piece again. Katrina focused on the music, and then began to imagine that the room was changing around them. As she soared through the opening of the piece, the bookcases lining the walls stretched up to the ceiling to become pristine marble pillars that pushed the ceiling higher and higher. The song titles and the music notes crawled out of their transforming pages and gathered on the rising ceiling, swirling to become grandiose clouds and wings of cherubs that peeked down at the musicians below.
With a flourish of notes on her oboe, the keys of the grand piano twisted and stretched until they became a grand staircase leading down into the ballroom. The carpet that had covered the floor shivered to life at the command of Hunter’s violin cadenza, then slithered to cover the staircase, leaving a shiny marble floor for the dancers.
As Katrina returned to the melody on oboe the music stands stretched up and sprouted tuxedos and top hats. The musical instruments stepped out of their cases wearing long flowing gowns of gold, silver and black, with mother of pearl and silver buttons all down the front. Katrina furrowed her brow with the effort of keeping up with the fingerings and all the details of the illusion.
The men and women all wore masks to hide their identities except for two men and two women. One of the men had spiky blond hair, and the other was thin with nondescript brown hair (Geo and Calley). One of the women had long red hair and fire in her eyes (Ali) and the other was Katrina’s mother. The dancers strode towards each other as Katrina reached a high trill. She needed air; she was too light headed. It was almost Hunter’s turn for the melody again; then she could rest for a moment.
As she finished the trill, her mother turned away from her dance partner and met her gaze. The edges of her vision darkened. There was only her mother’s worried look, then Katrina passed out.
Hunter was truly impressed as the girl began to utilise her abilities. He watched as the very room seemed to change in front of him. As each object changed he committed what it really looked like to memory and focused on seeing what was really there. If he really concentrated he could make out the faint outline of the object, but it looked like nothing more than a ghostly after image, as insubstantial as mist despite being more real than its surroundings.
Of the dancers he recognised some. Calley was unmistakable, though he looked odd in a coat and tails. Geo was another, along with Ali. The fourth unmasked individual Hunter recalled vaguely. Could it be? If he wasn’t mistaken that was Senator Dumonde’s wife. Assuming that the girl wasn’t a fan of politics the woman was likely her mother.
The Senator’s anti-mutant stance was well know, and had been a strong supporter of the bill. Before he could dwell on the information further the illusion faded and Katrina stopped playing. Turning to her Hunter saw her begin to collapse. Moving with unnatural speed Hunter set down the violin and bow on a table and caught both her and the oboe.
Most likely just overexertion from the complexity of the illusion that she had made, but just in case Hunter shook her gently and called softly, “Katrina, come one now wake up.”
Katrina heard her name and opened her eyes. Hunter was peering down at her. The room looked normal again and she was lying on the ground. So that’s what it was like to faint. The oboe was… where was the oboe?
“Is the oboe okay? I didn’t drop it did I? I’m so sorry Mr. Antonytail.”
She tried to sit up to check for the instrument, but her head protested against the sudden movement and she laid it down again. She’d wait a little longer before trying that again.
Hunter smiled at Katrina, glad to see she was awake. “Don’t worry the oboe’s just fine,” he said, holding it out for her to see with his free hand, “And the name’s Antonescu, not Antonytail, but you can call me Hunter.”
Setting the oboe down carefully he scoped Katrina up in both arms, her weight barely even noticeable. “Now, are you going to be alright or am I going to have take you to see a doctor,” he asked with a mock serious look on his face.
Katrina saw that the oboe was fine, gave a mental sigh of relief and…
Katrina was scooped up into Hunters arms. Now this was a position she never thought she’d be in when she had first entered the room. Mr. Antony… Hunter had completely changed from this morning when he had seemed to be more like a politician than any thing else. Politicians always seemed fake and Katrina thought that this unguarded Hunter seemed much more real. He was even joking.
“Now, are you going to be alright or am I going to have take you to see a doctor?”
She decided to test this newly discovered sense of humor.
“I’m alright, but I think there’s something wrong with my finger.” Katrina held up her pointer finger, and tried her very hardest imagine that it was invisible. The very small illusion worked, but it wasn’t without effort on Katrina’s part. The big illusion she had just attempted seemed to have taken a lot of energy.
Hunter smiled at Katrina as she made her finger disappear. Focusing on it for a second he could just see it as a ghostly after image. “I can only think of one treatment for a girl with a missing finger,” he said in a mock serious voice.
With a deft flick of his arms he span Katrina up in the air and landed her so she was sitting on his right shoulder. “And that is Ice cream,” he finished with a smile, “You do like ice cream don’t you?”
Trying that small illusion had been a mistake. Katrina hadn’t realized that powers had limits, but she had definitely reached hers now. It was a good thing that Hunter was still hanging on to her, because she wasn’t sure she would be able to balance on her own. She had no energy left, even to wonder how he had been able to swing her up onto his shoulder so easily.
“You do like ice cream don’t you?” he was asking.
She smiled weakly. Food actually did sound good. Bed sounded good too, but food first. She definitely needed to restore her energy.
“Ice cream sounds good, but please don’t let go of me. I might fall because I’m still a little dizzy.” And tired, but her voice probably told him that on its own.
“Ok then it’s settled,” said Hunter smiling, “First we get ice cream, then you need to get some sleep. Those illusions of yours have taken a lot out of you, so I think food then bed is in order.”
With Katrina still balanced on his shoulder he left the music room, careful not to bang Katrina’s head on the door frame. He didn’t head towards the canteen, but instead towards one of the guard recreation rooms. By now all the guards had learnt to never be in a recreation room when Hunter approached, as although they were technically allowed breaks, Hunter was not especially enamoured with idea of his guards on breaks. Thus when he opened the door any occupants that where there had made a swift exit.
Spinning Katrina off his shoulder he sat her down in a big comfy arm chair and went over to the freezer. “So, what flavour ice cream do you like?” Hunter asked as he got out two bowls, two spoons and an ice cream scoop and began to look for the guards’ ice cream.
Katrina sat cross legged in the big arm chair. She thought for a moment about ice cream flavors. "My favorite is Neapolitan. I can never decide whether I like vanilla, chocolate, or strawberry the best, so I like the one that mixes all three together. Really, ice cream flavors work the best as a team instead of separated into individual flavors."
“Neapolitan it is then,” said Hunter, pulling out a tub. Picking up the ice cream scoop he scooped out a chunk of ice cream and winked at Katrina. With a flick of his wrist he sent the ice cream flying over his shoulder to land perfectly in one of the bowls. He repeated the little trick until each bowl had three scoops.
Returning the tub to the freezer Hunter picked up a bowl in each hand and handed one to Katrina. Taking a seat next to her he was reminded of Paragon, back when she was little. Paragon had always liked ice cream as a treat after testing her powers. He ate a spoonful of ice cream and brushed the old memory aside.
Katrina watched as Hunter did a fancy trick where he flipped an ice cream scoop over his shoulder. She was sure it would splatter all over his suit, but it didn't. "How long did it take you to learn that?" she asked as she accepted her bowl of ice cream.
She started to eat it, making sure to get a little of each flavor in each bite. The ice cream was delicious, but after a few bites her eyes started to get too heavy for her to keep them open any more. She set her ice cream on one arm of the chair, used the opposite arm as a pillow, and let her eyes close.