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.
Site adaptation by Sen, Lix, and Tempest. <3
A visit to Doc Jimmy’s Gingerbread House (planned)
Posted by gorganite01 on Nov 2, 2007 15:07:38 GMT -6
Guest
When the doctor put the necklace on the boy, he didn't really need his mutation to sense the hate being channelled toward him. He also didn't need his powers to tell that the clasp was not the reason for having the necklace fixed, and since it was fixed by the most intelligent man in the building (except possibly Antonescu), it was likely to be something far more important. And it was likely far more than a normal necklace. Then the good doctor's attention was focused upon himself.
"I need to make final adjustments on yours. Come with me."
Shogun nodded, and followed the man throught the door. He sensed the boy's intention to follow, and didn't particularly care. Once in the lab, a pulse revealed that it was almost as cluttered as half of the boy's mind. But the doctor seemed to know his way around instinctively, as though he had lived there all his life. The doctor lead him to a workbench where a new mask was sitting. A few straps were lying next to it, and the doctor didn't bother telling Shogun anything as he picked it up and put it on Shogun's head. Fortunately for the doctor, Shogun could sense the lack of ill intent, and let the doctor do as he wished.
Slate stood calmly by, allowing the clutter to peer intently at the mask for a moment before, as usual, losing interest and wandering off to the back of their mind.
Good Doctor Ingram put the mask on Shogun’s head, and fiddled with a set of small, incomprehensible tools for a few moments until he seemed satisfied. Perhaps ‘satisfied’ was not the word: he seemed finished. This was highlighted by his following statement: “It’s done. You can leave, now.” He turned his head towards Slate. “Did you want something?”
Slate rather meaningfully jangled their electric bracelet. “I believe the clasp on this is broken, as well. I cannot seem to get it off.”
A smug shadow of a smile crossed the good doctor’s face. “You haven’t tried very hard, then.”
This was more than enough to make all parts of their mind understand. Still, Slate desired further confirmation: he reached down, and undid the clasp on the bracelet. The very normal bracelet.
...If theirs was a more violent mind, then the good doctor might very well have found himself being strangled with a very normal bracelet at this approximate moment, exploding collar or not. As it was, Calley and the clutter had gone beyond hissing to complete and total silence. Slate found himself, disconcertingly, to be the only voice in their mind.
I very much wish this man a heart attack. It was a very focused wish.
“The both of you,” Doctor Ingram said dismissingly, “out. I’ve got work to do.”
...Slate refused to stop concentrating on the good doctor’s health, so Calley gently took control, and guided their footsteps out the door. If a few of Doc Jimmy’s more important-looking tools happened to jump into their pockets on the way out, that was just because even inanimate objects held a burning hatred for the man and his psychopathic sense of humor.
Posted by gorganite01 on Nov 3, 2007 15:45:56 GMT -6
Guest
The doctor finished with the mask, and Shogun gave it a couple of tugs to ensure that it fitted properly. The doctor then simply told Shogun to leave, so any thought of saying thank-you was swiftly banished from his mind. As Shogun turned to go, the doctor noticed the boy, and asked the question that Shogun was actually interested in as well. So Shogun decided not to look like he cared, and waited outside. That way, he'd know everything going on in the room, and he would be able to leave before the boy came out and found him.
The boy complained about the bracelet on his wrist, saying that it wouldn't come off. The doctor then revealed that it could, and the boy confirmed it. Shogun silently applauded the doctor for his genius, then went back to disliking the man. The new surge of hatred was almost palpable. Shogun noticed that the organized personality was entirely focussed upon surging hatred at the doctor, and the clutter took over. As the boy headed for the door, Shogun began moving again, but wasn't sure whther or not the boy saw him leave. But one thing Shogun did notice; the boy stealing things from the doctor. If the doctor had been less clinical with him, then Shogun would have forced the boy to return what ever he took. But Shogun decided that the boy won this one, and allowed the clutter to continue with its theivery. But the deft fingers would definately be remembered by the samurai.
Oh, Calley noticed the samurai leaving. He just didn't care.
Heart attack. Have-a-heart-attack.
Let's cut these tools up and mail them to him in pieces.
A painful heart attack that leaves you writhing on the floor, friendless in death as you were in life.
With ransom notes.
They could have run. They actually could have run. Between the shifting and Slate's healing, they might have even made it. Once they were out of the compound, uncollared, there would have been no way for Hunter to find them again. They could be any animal in the world.
...What's the first thing on our list, Slate?
Have a heart attack. Have a heart attack. Have a--
Never mind, I found it.
It wasn't a list so much as a word jumble, held in scattered fragments of the clutter that even Calley found hard to find. In a word: nearly telepath-proof. The first orders of business were training and learning to fight. Not necessarily in that order.
It might take awhile, but they were going to get down to that last item on the list. The one they'd agreed to not even think about. It didn't matter if the Boss had psychics like Shogun on his crew; they were starting to get the hang of this fragmented-mind-thing. They might have even been starting to like it.