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.
Posted by Martin Stein on Mar 3, 2010 16:15:12 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
760
0
Jul 2, 2013 5:22:49 GMT -6
The light was few and red, was getting lost in shadows of galactic size, painting the rests, slowly, painting the world, before being lost forever, loosing itself in outer space, his thoughts going on a ride, hitching a ride to the stars, galactic distance. A world of shadow was so small, his world of shadows. A galaxy of lights, with every minute of the drowning of the light, the other ones, the ones on the sky they got stronger, not brighter, but more decisive in their light, the eye now able to perceive, what it had not before, the reddening ball, the failing ball obscuring view. They had been there all along, but how would one find them, when there was only so much light? Too much light. And he was on the shadows. He saw clearly. More clearly from eyes that had seen a flies wings beat, a wasps sting progress. These eyes had seen. And yet they retained some of the light that had once been inside. Old and broken glass, lamps long unlit, but the wick was there, the blackened strand of wool. Nothing but a reminder of things lost long ago. Childhood memories.
He avoided gazing into her eyes as much as he could, turning, upstanding, standing up, rising, to face the rapidly disappearing sun, setting, the source of life that went into hiding, his voice harsh now, getting harsher with every minute, coarser, less pleasing to the ear. Sandpaper, playing in a sandbox. “Believe me.... what I have seen is not fit for mortal eyes.” So calm. And not. What he had seen was fit for no ones eyes. Blood, bones breaking, dropping down, minds, crumbling, done, made, bones, minds, guns firing, screens of dust and smoke, fires of the heart extinguished, fire of the sun blocked out, heartbeat stopping, pausing, breathing stopping, time in between two sentences, time was long, pause, a button pressed, waiting for arrival. A call to rescue? Sirens ringing, clinging to his mind alone, those sirens. The sun was setting. Rapidly the red ball was disappearing. Immortal suffering. It went on and on without ever caring. Shadows and light. They were the same. To him they were. And there was a reason keeping him from looking at her.
It was his hurt alone.
And the light was gone. And it was dark. A dark world. The stars were shining over them. The moon was a bright lamp lit in the sky. His eyes reflected its light, refracted. What color was one supposed to see there? Here? His voice, it had taken on a different tone, these eyes had taken on a different look. A very different one. A mask maybe, a hiding gaze, nothing there any more that had been there before. A world had been shaken, stirred, currents he could not control. And his eyes looked young again, alert, slightly different though. Would they ever look the same to her?
“So would you care for a cup of tea?” So bright and young that voice. Youthful vigor calling. Nothing was the same, would be, ever again, would it? Not after this day. Not after any other. Except for him. He was a little left behind. So he stepped forward. Compensating actions.
Posted by rainewater on Mar 3, 2010 20:20:43 GMT -6
Guest
Raina frowned and reached out brushing his hand. She got that he didn't want to touch her and part of her was nervous if she were to hold his hand... but she wanted to show him physical support so a gentle hand brush was the best way she could.
The moment seemed to go on forever and before she knew it the moon was out in all it's glory. "I don't know what it is about the moon... I always feel like it has such a sway over me, my emotions...." she trailed off.
Even though their conversation had been somewhat forced Raina felt at ease around Martin suddenly. She felt relaxed and calm. She even radiated a little in the moon light. She turned toward him and smiled wide. "I'd love some tea." she nodded.
She wasn't sure what kind of friendship they were developing if they even were at all... but she was happy to be in his company.
Posted by Martin Stein on Mar 4, 2010 19:05:44 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
760
0
Jul 2, 2013 5:22:49 GMT -6
His steps were light, falling of moonlight on still warmed soil, brushing against the grass his shoes, heavy, but strangely floating were the noises he made, nearly none at all. There was breathing. In the night falling, something made a cracking noise. A tree trunk maybe. Off in the dark. Far off in the dark, his heart was drawn, towards the lit, the lighting windows of the building in their vicinity. The chill of the mist was upon him like a hand grabbing, encircling, holding, supporting., clinging, mostly, holding him back. The darkness was calling. Darkness of his heart, of mind. A little more solitude maybe? And as he passed her by, her touch sent ripples through him, breaking spells, walls. Maybe fears, fulfilling hopes, and nothing more. Or less. He stopped in his tracks, just to look at the way for a while. The way he intended to take. Maybe it was a chance that it led him right next to her.
It was silent now. He was silent. All other noises decreasing.
Not even breathing. Just her own breath, life that stood in the wilderness of the Mansions Garden. Just herself and the moonlight. And a Ghost maybe. Did she believe in them? Ghosts of the past.
In his chest, his heart was beating, rapidly, small things failing, falling down into his bloodstream, following their way up into his brain. The way of life. Contained in vessels. Blood vessels. His voice, it was a strangely calm appearance, the breath held escaping through his lips, a hissing, a balloon deflating. And the normal functions resumed. Shattered was the painful silence.
“Why is it that everyones drawn to the light?”
A simple question. Asked with innocence. His blue eyes gazed at her a last time, before he returned to walking down the path he plotted. Had plotted already. He moved on. Silently. A water cooker was waiting for him to be filled with the precious liquid that was in all rivers, all the seas. The thing that he was mostly. 67,85 % to be exact. H2O. Life was measurable now. Light, too. Was darkness? Was he? Steps were quickening. Light falling from the windows was lengthening his shadow, drawing it apart, until a monstrous figure was walking on the grounds, defying all human proportion.
And then it was gone.
And water was falling freely into the metal container in the kitchen. Only a few movements of his hands. Automated. His eyes looked at his right. Where she had touched him. Was it the right place?
Posted by rainewater on Mar 4, 2010 19:29:56 GMT -6
Guest
She wasn't quite sure how they got inside the mansion and sitting at a table. She had this eerie sense of having slept walked and just awakened. Her eyes even felt a little heavy and her body strangely light. Everything was just a bit fuzzy at the tips and before she knew it she was holding a warm cup of peppermint tea- her favourite- without even remembering how it got there.
She blew against the steam and warmed her hands. "Spring is around the corner but the chill of winter is still there." she said in a distant voice. "We always get excited at the first signs of spring but it's always premature. Winter always has one last dance around."
She brought the warm liquid to her lips- too hot. Scalding actually. She absentmindedly hummed a note and instantly it was cooled. She drank it down quickly.
"I'd like to visit with you again now that I'm back." she admitted. "My office is on the main floor if you'd ever like to drop in... but I also work at the New York Aquarium. I really enjoy having visitors there." she explained.
Perhaps she was going out on a limb being so honest with him now sincerely searching for friendship. But the mansion she left was not the mansion she was returning too. In fact the Raina she left as was not the Raina she was coming back as.
Luke was ever silent and she felt alone in this sea of new students and busy co-workers. It was her own fault really for not having spent more focus on making friends and less focus on maintaining a boyfriend. She could never really explain it though for someone to understand, she simply felt like half a person. Like there was a person out there who held the other half of her. She hoped Luke had been that half but in his absence it was hard to know. Perhaps she ached so strongly because he was the half... perhaps she ached so bad because he wasn't and her soul was dissatisfied with being duped into believing it had found it's other half.
Yes on the outside she probably seemed like the girl who would fall in love with everyone... but on the inside were waves of emotion that just never seemed to be matched by any person she'd encountered yet. Raina couldn't even verbalize these feelings. She simply thought them all the time and occasionally translated them into music. Music was like a language... one only she could understand.
"I do a mermaid show on Fridays" she explained "but all other days I do tours. Since I've seen your work here and your ideas maybe when you're bored you'd like to see mine."
Was she coming off too desperate for his attention? She hoped not, though it was true. Something about those gray eyes. Those gray eyes that matched hers that made her hope for a kindred spirit. Be it friendship or otherwise. She hoped this was all genuine and not just her aching soul.
Posted by Martin Stein on Mar 11, 2010 4:45:05 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
760
0
Jul 2, 2013 5:22:49 GMT -6
The tea was hot in his hands. Another source of warmth, so unlike the one which he had just pushed away at a distance. Miles away they were from each other, distantly watching each others shadows dance against the setting sun. The sun had set, they sat in darkness, the light of the bulbs the only thing to keep them company. And the warmth of the cups of course. Martin did barely touch his more then necessary to warm his slightly cold fingers. The aggressive heat made it difficult, did it not?
His eyes looked at her.
And he was silent, even though she spoke. He remained silent. His eyes watching. There was nothing more that needed to be said here. Not tonight. And there was a great silence. And the silence was void. And there was a word. And the word was....