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.
Posted by Martin Stein on Oct 16, 2009 11:51:22 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
760
0
Jul 2, 2013 5:22:49 GMT -6
What did he do with his gift? Waht was it that made him put on his gloves every morning? Was it just fear? Was his fear just? Hate. Love. Care. Logic. Emotions. Cayling through his head. Would he lie to the kid? Could he lie to the kid? His own face? He was breaking inside. Once again he was torn apart.
"I dont kill people every day even if I could ssssicne all it takes is a touch. I think that'sssss great enough."
So cold. So normal. Honest. So stable that voice. Had he not just spoken the unspeakable. I killed. Ill kill again. I dont want to. But I kill. All my life.
"It should be enough for you too."
Or youll break like me. Break inside and take the fragments out. No? Really kid. Start growing up. Youve got responsibilities now. And no time for dreams. You cant make time run slow enough to dream. Ever. Never. And then a strange thing happened. The cold just vanished from the boys eyes as he heard himself speak of food. And his attention changed. Focus the restaurant. "Very well. Letssss talk more over dinner." and in an additional mumble "Oh how I hope they have good bread"
~~"I dont kill people every day even if I could ssssicne all it takes is a touch. I think that'sssss great enough.""It should be enough for you too."
A slow mocking clap of gloves mocked that answer. “You don’t kill, everyday. Bravo. That is, no where near enough for me. His eyes flitted over the surrounding area as he already put his thought into motion. No crime would go un punished before his eyes again. Not in this body, not in the one walking along his side. No, criminal would go unchallenged. No murderer would escape a century in a second. A touch unto decay.”
But his stomach decided that no food would go uneaten, rumbling its protest on the speech not being about food from home.
~~~"Very well. Letssss talk more over dinner." "Oh how I hope they have good bread"
“bread is good.” He agreed amiably enough. They continued out of the park and toward the restaurant of choice. Crossing at a cross walk and not risking the ultimate penalty for jay walking in the city. Death by cab. The went mid way down the block and turned into a heavenly aroma and people wearing lederhosen. Interesting at the very least. Koga couldn’t help but picture a whole country of people dressed like that…and was momentarily concerned for the country. Until he realized that’d be the same as martin there wondering if all of japan was still littered with samurai and geishas…which it was of course.
Posted by Martin Stein on Oct 21, 2009 14:46:34 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
760
0
Jul 2, 2013 5:22:49 GMT -6
That had been...the wrong way to handle little boys it seemed. He would have to be more careful. He wanted to sigh mentally. Was there any time he need not be more careful then before? Maybe he should just forgo socail interaction alltogether. It would make things so much easier. His wallk was silent, his stirde confident...ish. In fact he was pretty unsure about how to handle the situation. The boy was erratic, overconfident, self rightious... why couldnt it have been an olde hag he was swapped with? Something easy, slow, settled in, with some sense and intelligence. Instead he got... a boy. Such a mess.
A door opened and closed and the smells of his home engulfed him, crept up his nose in a manner that made even the reptiles stomach grumble with audible desire. Edibiles. Food. And then. He. Saw. The. Personel. NO. Lederhosen. Dirndl and Lederhosen. Why couldnt they choose something else then Bavaria to stand for Germany on the other side of the world. The state wich took so much pride in never having ratified the basic law. It represented Germany to the public in over a hundred nations. Blue and white, Bavarias national colors were screaming at him in their vulgar patterns. Everything German was Bavarian. And erverything Bavarian was German. Martin felt the need to cover his eyes, lest he wear that pattern on his skin. That was somethign he could not make himself do. And the fact that he was feeling slightly sickened, had of course, nothing to do with his actions. Of course.Or even get out of that restaurant. He took two steps back. And he did cover his eyes in a rapid motion. It was as if they were burning. Oh and he stumbled slightly. The latter conjuring up a helpful waiter (in national attire apparently). "Are you allright, boy? Come here and take a seat." (who also had a fake german accent) He looked up at Martins body. "Well get him something to drink. Does he have any special needs?" After recieving the answer and seated the swooning lizard, he hurried off into the nothingness of the kitchen, leaving a dazzled Martin sitting across from him at a table. In a German restaurant. He looked at the bread through his fingers and found his suspicions cofirmed. It was American. Wonderful. Stale taste.
He couldn’t know how accurately he called the silly stereo type comparison likening the Ricola commercial all around them to ninja and geishas.
There were several women that managed to some how make the short short overalls look pretty darn good…not that he could touch them. er uh, not that he would touch them. should? He let out a slight cough. The males however looked flippin ridiculous. His body started to look dizzy and was going to fall, but he wasn’t about to catch him and kill his body, chancing flesh to flesh contact…let him faint and then he would handle the situation when he could control it.
“what is wrong with you?” He set down at the table eyeing his form nibble some bread and looking put off. “Are you that hungry? Have you not been feeding me?” He then frowned slightly he hadn’t ate a thing yet. His body knew the smell and wanted it , his mind didn’t have the knowledge to realize this was about German as cartoon of wiener schnitzel diving into a bowl of sauerkraut… a nice little front put up for any new Yorker, that didn’t know better, but easily a slap in the face for a true blooded German.
“Eat something and settle your addled brain, we can leave if you want, maybe we should find some a traditional Japanese place, I figured a German place would suit you fine, Is this place as much of a front as I think it might be?”
He straitened his collar and moved around to sit to Koga’s left, putting his back to a wall as well, to lessen the chances of an unfortunate accidentally hundred year murder in a mere moment.
Posted by Martin Stein on Oct 23, 2009 7:05:12 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
760
0
Jul 2, 2013 5:22:49 GMT -6
The fact that he was sitting now did make things better. A little bit at least. Now he just had to find something to lock his eyes on that was not blue-and-white. He settled on his own face, though the young boy behind it was slightly concerned for him. And slightly unnerved it seemed. "What is wrong with you?" he asked. What is wrong weith me? I ask. Look around you kid. Look and see. This is what you call Germany? Ridiculous. Nasty. The stale taste in his mouth intensfied. And the waiter arrived with a glass of water. One glass of water that is. And one menu. The first was placed in front of the boy, the second in front of Martin..s body. "I hope you will enjoy your meal here at Heidelberg Restaurant." He didnt even look at the waiter, prompting maybe a slightly concerned look. Oh the sound of those words, they were enough. He was torn between lunging for the water and washing the stale taste from his mouth and chiding the waiter for his bad pronounciation. Not that the fake German accent helped with that, mind you.
The water won.
By a margin.
He gulped down the glass within thirty-odd seconds and then set it down on the table again. Quite well manneredly actually. It didnt even make a sound. Only then he opened his mouth to speak again to himself. "I have fed you well of courssssse. There isssss nothing more botherssssome then to have to ssssstop work to get more food, becaussssse you did not eat enough. Itsssss just that you exhaussssted me sssslightly. Or I might have underesssstimated the nutritional needsss of young teenagerssss." The sound of his voice was suitable for a dinnertable. If he were not hissing at every s. And then it came.. traditional German place. His eyes strayed slightly from his own fce, just to return there upon meeting blue-and-white. Oh traditional this was, yes? Revulsion was not a word strong enough to express his tangled feelings toward this...place. More like sudden surge of bile and venom on the back of his throat. He would have eaten here of course. If he were starving. Even if he were truly hungry, he would have. But. Not. Now. "Id prefer if we..." Run away. Slap them in the face. Ruin this backwater. Give them a handful. "leave." Oh such revulsion. "It might just be a little too much tradition for me here." So much bile. He rose from his table. And then the waiter was back again from somewhere. Martin squinted at him, looked through him with all the disregard he could muster for someone standing right in front of him. "You sssshould work on your performance." A critique had entered the stage. And this one knew his way around. "Ich wünsche Ihnen noch einen angenehmen Arbeitssssstag. (I wish you a pleasant workday)" He then pronounced the final sentence of his judgement. And the waiter looked as puzzled as Koga probably was in his own body by the sudden shift in articualtion.
The nut job in his body went on and ranted whether through action or speech or the look in his own obsidian eyes, the soul in his body detested this place…if he hated it so bad why did his bodies nose yearn for whatever the heck it was cooking in here? Maybe he wouldn’t have minded it as much if he were in his own body? Koga’s body certainly had no predestined love of German food. Not that he disliked it, but it didn’t come on a palate of rice and had none of the traditional Japanese ingredients, well his stomach just didn’t answer like it was a siren’s call.
~~"Id prefer if we..." a pause as if he needed a moment not to start cursing or grab a knife and murder people. "leave."
Koga shrugged and got up and smiled kindly to the man that was as far as he knew some sort of Bavarian. He grinned and patted him on the shoulder. “I am afraid that today we simply do not agree on what to eat or where to eat it. have a good night.” He turned and left the restaurant with or with out his body in tow. What a little spoiled snot. It was the waiter’s fault he needed to work enough to provide himself somewhere to live, how?
“well, I’m leaving the next choice up to you, there are a few places that way, what the heck do you want to eat?” He left the statement with an exasperated laugh. Koga was rude only to those that went so far out of their way to offend those around them that it actually physically effected them and while his body’s captor seemed to be almost sick, how could you hold the restaurant accountable?
Posted by Martin Stein on Nov 6, 2009 8:05:22 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
760
0
Jul 2, 2013 5:22:49 GMT -6
After getting out of that horrible place and taking a few breaths -deep breaths- of saviorly unhealthy, smoky, disgustingly gasoline-like New Yorkian air, he was feeling the bulging in his stomach subside. Seeing a streetful of cars had become somewhat calming and comforting to him, though he still much preferred either the blue of the ocean or the green of his plants. Speaking of which. He had just turned a little green.
He also turned to face Koga and talk, looking up to him. "If you would please select a place of your choosing. I fear that I am a little indisposed at the moment." Indisposed in not going in there and beating the crap out of them. How rather unlike him those violent thoughts were. He much rather let himself be controlled by logic, but it seemed that he had to work on himself even more. Especially in this particular case. How peculiar indeed. Therefore he made himself ready to follow his own body into the next place of eating, where he might find a more agreeable form of nourishment. OOC: Feel free to move us there directly, unless you have more need for street-talk.
~~"If you would please select a place of your choosing. I fear that I am a little indisposed at the moment."
Koga nodded Martin's head, but added a stipulation. "Provided, you don't throw any tantrums in the next place."
----
A small walk later and The pait arrived at a wonderful place, It was not heritage based for either of them but, the place before them was something Martin would not be able to resist so long as he was in the body that he was, Chipotle, authentic Mexican food, the line was short and the cafeteria set up meant you got food fast. you chose from four meats or vegetarian and then added whatever you wanted them to put on top, it was fantastic! If Koga, Martin flipped out here he would be leaving on his own, he had already taken in the fantastic smells, it would take more than the safety of his body to get him to leave. He ushered the young man to the back of the short line and couldn't stop his mouth from watering.
Posted by Martin Stein on Nov 17, 2009 7:50:00 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
760
0
Jul 2, 2013 5:22:49 GMT -6
Not noticing the streets pass him by as he walked -he was actually kindof not himself at the moment anyways- thoughts were continually running up and down his mind. Rushing, ushering, like the people on these streets. Nothing was quiet, nothing was safe, except that he had taken the color of the floor and was therefore baarely visible in direct sight. It was an unconscious reaction, one he could not control at all. Why was this little boy so **** like a teenager? The body and the mind. It was only when the smells of Garlic and VInegar, of Jalapenos and of exotic fruit filled his nose, that his head was lifted and the silence he had held until now broken.
"It is acceptable." Dry tone. Cool judgement. He was standing in a line waiting to be served or seated, he did not know, he did not care. It was only when he had gotten his food (a quite bland mix of different foods that were selected more for nutritional value then for taste) and taken a mechanical bite that he looked at the boy.
"You might know that this thing is happening to more of us, but is there anything, anything at all that you found odd? Anything remarkable that happened before we were swiched?" He paused a while, to give room for the young boys answer or own questions, filling his stomach bite by bite. Piece by piece the puzzle was assembled, had to be assembled. And then maybe this would all be over soon.