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.
Men were strange creatures. This one, for example, thought it made for a romantic date to take someone out for over-garlicked Italian and finish things off with a moonlit walk down by the pier. Honestly, didn't he know that this was where the sewage from half of Manhattan washed out to sea? Jocelyn wrinkled her nose. He probably didn't.
Jocelyn shrugged out of his attempt to put his arm around her shoulder by pretending she had a sudden need to put her coat on. It was a little chilly this evening, a big change from the rest of the week that had been stiflingly hot.
The off-duty cop froze, tan trench coat only half on. She wrinkled her nose again. That wasn't just sewage.
“Look, Phil...”
“It's Francis.”
“Right. Sorry. Look, I have to go. Thanks for a great time,” she faked a very convincing smile and added, “I'll call you later this week.” She wouldn't. She had already lost the little corner of napkin that he had written his number on, right after she had arranged this particular outing. No big loss really.
“But...”
Jocelyn was already over the railing separating their walking path from the rocky strip of shoreline down below. Low tide meant that she had more places to step, but the additional footholds were scummy-slick with algae and seaweed. She made her way carefully, following her nose until the floating strands of green tangled with blonde.
It had been a week, give or take a day, judging by the smell. The doctors back at the morgue would be slightly more accurate. A week in the sewers had washed away much of her previous scent. The slight hint of a particular flower was nearly gone. Her shampoos and hand lotions and deodorants, too, were washed away by sewer waters. What was left of her smell was deteriorating rapidly.
Ick.
“Good find, Bloodhound,” Deputy Cinnamongum clapped her on the back. Jocelyn frowned at him and his whole yellow taped scene; she didn't feel like it was a particularly notable accomplishment.
“Just keep me informed of what you find when you get her autopsy results. Okay?” She was technically off duty, and didn't envy in the least all the dead trees Cinnamongum was going to have to fill out. “I'm out,” she informed him, one foot already up on the ledge of the culvert.
The flash of the crime scene photographer's camera illuminated a very confused expression on the deputy's face, “Out. Where?”
“Of here. I'm just going to take a look,” Jocelyn's voice echoed back to him. The best part of being off duty? No partner around to complain about getting his feet dirty.
The worst part about being off duty? No utility belt meant no flashlight. No flashlight meant that she could smell what she was stepping in, but couldn't see it well enough to avoid it. She really wished she hadn't been wearing four inch heels to go out on her date. They were sandals, too.
As she followed it backwards from whence it came, the woman's scent changed. It was a little like using a time machine, to first follow the scent of decay gradually back to a place that still smelled like her as she had been when she was last living.
The scene of the crime was illuminated only slightly by storm drains, but even in the dim light Jocelyn could see the dark splashes that hadn't been washed from the walls. The scent of blood was strong, laced with fear and adrenaline. The murderer didn't leave behind anything other than the stains on the walls and the scent of his sweaty, bloody palms on the ladder when he had climbed up again.
Halfway up the ladder herself Jocelyn took a good sniff and memorized the scent. Male, mutant, shifter of some kind, owned cats. He also smelled of fear, not the woman's, but his own. The pattern of his scent solidified in her memory. She felt confident that she'd recognize it if she came across it again.
At the top of the ladder the trail went cold. A week of rain and city traffic had taken its toll and completely masked the trail of the murderer.
That meant they would have to track him down through normal human methods.
Jocelyn retied the bow on the back of her apron for what felt like the fiftieth time. The ribbon was too slippery to hold itself together.
"Felix, would you please finish setting the table?" Her 10 year old son always seemed to wander away before he got the silverware on. "Your gran and uncle will be here any minute."
"Coming mama!"
Jocelyn gave the pasta sauce one final stir before turning off the burner. The noodles went into the colander. The beans, into a bowl.
"Honey, the fork goes on the left," she reminded him, then sighed as the doorbell rang and Felix abandoned a whole handful of spoons on one plate as he ran off to let in the dinner guests.
"Sweetheart!" Her mother hugged her, then held her by the hips at arms length. "You're not eating enough. You're getting way too skinny, dear."
"Puppy, don't listen to her, you look beautiful," countered Nigel.
Jocelyn rolled her eyes at the nickname and hit her brother in the arm,"So how is work? No buildings fell on you this week?"
"Not this week," Nigel grinned back at her.
Around all three of them Felix bounced like he was riding a pogo stick.
"Mom, can I bleach my hair like uncle Nigel?"
"Not until you are twenty and a half," Nigel answered the question himself, "It's very important that your hair reach a certain level of maturity before you start to change its color."
Nigel put his arm around his sister's shoulder and led the way to the table. "This smells excellent," he informed her, "but then, I don't need to tell you that, do I?"
Jocelyn smiled and rolled her eyes. Then, something caught her attention. There was a familiar scent on her brother's coat. One that she had only ever smelled in the sewers.
"Shall we pray?" Their mother asked.
Jocelyn nodded and vowed to ask her brother about the scent later when she could get him alone. She nodded to her mother and they each took their places around the table holding hands.
"I don't talk about work in polite company," Nigel reminder her.
"I'm hardly polite," Jocelyn insisted.
"Sorry, can't help you."
"Even if you might be working with a murderer?"
"And what have you got to go on? I can hardly accuse one of my coworkers of murder because my little sister says he smells like a rose petal and cat hair, or whatever."
Jocelyn sighed. "I could come to work with you and smell him out myself."
"No. Sorry sis. Who ever he is, you'll have to track him down the human way."
