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.
A living puzzle. Recently Ingram was not getting them packaged so whole. Usually they were flat on their backs and open— living, yes, but only just. With the face and feelings and, even worse, with a medically trained spouse that was more worried than she was… well, it was a real challenge.
Ingram liked a challenge.
He started with the usual. Find the problem.
Maya faded. Faded in a less density and mass sort of way. Ingram assumed no laws of physics were being defied so the mass had to go somewhere; with her unique mutation, it very well could drift off into thin air.
"Have you tried not—" Ingram cast about for the word and finally settled for "—shifting? Have you tried staying whole for a day?"
"If I don't ghost on purpose, I'll ghost on accident. In my sleep or when I'm really relaxed. It's not good to be half awake with a blanket suspended partially through my body. Sometimes, it's as much a gut reaction as flinching."
"Outside of this lab, try to shift as little as you can. I'll try to rule that out as your loss of mass. In fact," Ingram sniffed stiffly, "I'd like to keep you under observation for a day or two. See if I can't figure somethings out."
Something passed between Sebastian and Maya when each looked at the other, but eventually they came around to his idea. The satisfactions spread right down to his toes when they agreed. A new test subject with a new and intriguing problem. Ingram found his happy place.
The air-tight room made Maya anxious and that showed in the bleating of her heart monitor. Supposedly Ingram ran the numbers and Maya could safely stay air tight in that space for 48 hours before they needed to ventilate. The aeromancer had food, water, an electric kettle, books, a chair, a pallet to sleep on… she did not have a clock.
Maya was to think of her stay as a mini-vacation. It felt more like her time in the American internment camp, though, she admitted the space was cozier.
It took Doctor Ingram only two days to prepare for her stay and she was supposed to stay twice as long as that. He seemed very dedicated to helping them solve her problem.
Sebastian visited for a time, but it must have bored him to watch her sitting around. Besides, Jude actually needed watching, grounded as he was thanks to his earlier exploits.
Ingram monitored barometric pressure among other factors while Maya performed various tasks. Ghost. Re-solidify. Ghost. Move her incorporeal body about the room. The commands came faster and the tasks more complex. Ingram watched everything. He did not yet know where he would find his first clue.
"Did you know that your body's cells contain an amazing amount of oxygen? If your cells were metabolizing that your muscles would work at peak efficiency. You could jump higher, run faster…"
That was all well and good for someone who might be interested in that kind of thing, but Ghost never intended on becoming a super soldier, she just wanted to survive.
"Is that a bad thing? That I'm not metabolizing the extra oxygen?"
"Inconclusive." Ingram readjusted his glasses. "Something about your mutation allows this phenomenon, but with some of the samples I've collected, I'm unable to tell what cell belongs to you and what's just ambient. Your body might not be able to tell the difference either."
The thought jarred Maya. Was she trading her body parts out for air every time she ghosted?
Maya couldn't give up her power for solidity could she? Solid and alive is better than fading into nothingness. But she couldn't help the X-men anymore if she was always solid. Not that I've been helping a whole lot these days anyway...
The arguments bounced around her mind and flicked visibly across her features. It took her a long time to settle things down enough for her to figure out what to say to Ingram and he seemed content to wait for her to articulate.
You think holding water in your hand is hard? Try holding onto air.
On Ingram's advice, Maya attempted to expand her power and control. With her mother, every lesson felt like a game. With Ingram, everything felt impossible.
The challenge was to carry a sound as far as she could without distorting the message.
In theory, sound made a handy training tool since it used air as a medium of travel and simply by listening could be checked for accuracy. In practice it was a lot more difficult than she had ever thought. Maya had to contain the vibrations and encourage the same amount of energy in order to maintain the strength and accuracy of the sound.
In the underground labyrinth of Mondragon Labs, plenty of air waited for her to leak the sound out of her cupped hands. The natural din of a working compound attempted to contaminate what she protected. Everything was working against her, even herself.
The first time she had opened her hands after circling the compound, Ingram's simple phrase came out a jumble, every syllable happened all at once. She had maintained the strength, maybe even amplified it, but in her tampering attempts she also managed to condense it so that the words sounded entirely incomprehensible.
Once she could learn to keep the timing and length of a sound, she would have to learn to sustain the variable yet subtle vibrations that made complex sounds.
Ingram had her convinced that if she could hold together a complete sound, perhaps she could hold herself together completely.
She was just tired after a long day hauling books at the Full Circle. That had to be it. Her tiredness made her irritable. Surely Doctor Ingram was not trying to antagonize her on purpose.
Today, the white-haired aerokinetic had her body stretched as thin as she could possibly manage. Her incorporeal body lay as a fog along the ground while Ingram rolled along through her the haze of her body with a high powered shop-vac. He slurped away at her resolve while he tested the limits of her endurance.
This was training, she told herself, nothing more.
Ingram's pleasant whistling did not help her to convince herself.
By the time Ingram satisfied whatever twisted curiosity that developed the test, she had made it through the dust filter more than once.
Her heart was going crazy and the test had barely begun. She had all kinds of monitoring leads attached to her skin, under her skin, over her skin. The table she was strapped to stood upright. The restraints served more as a reminder to stay put rather than an actual hinderance.
This was one test she thought could be put off indefinitely.
Maya did not particularly care what happened on a molecular level when she was set on fire, but after a good burning was one of the only times that she had felt as solid as she would ever be. Now she regretted telling.
Ingram wasn't setting all of her on fire. Not exactly. It was more teasing and torturous than that. He moved flames of varying sizes incrementally closer along a sliding measure gauge in front of a high speed camera with more sensors. Each candle stacked so that the camera would get the best view of each.
As the space between her and the flames shrunk, every tongue of fire licked toward her.
They all pointed and reached. She could feel them pulling her like a straw sucked up water. Were the instruments getting any of this because she wasn't about to do it over again. Ever.
When she licked the edges of her mouth, Maya realized that she was shaking. She was afraid. Very afraid. If Doctor Ingram slipped or changed his mind, she really would go up in flames. If she ghosted, would the flames be gobble her up?
Staying still was the bravest and possibly the most stupid thing she could manage at the moment.
Finally the small fires stopped, as close as the doctor or Maya dared for them to stay near to her.
Maya was sweaty and exhausted by the time that the flames fluttered back to what would be normal had she not been there. How long she had faced the fire, she had no idea, but just the thought of trying to ghost now made her feel violently ill.
The straps came free and the fires were extinguished. Still, she could not make herself change into an incorporeal state. Maya shut her eyes and squeezed them tight with effort that quickly faded into exhausted sleep.
She didn't wake up until her oxygen levels were properly restored.
Maya waited patiently while the doctor scuttled around gathering his things. That would be Doctor Ingram. DocProf, in Maya's mind, always got a "good" to go in front of his doctor. Of Doctor Ingram, she could not think the same even if he was helping her. It was something about the way he did it, like it was a selfish pursuit.
Despite her doubts, Maya trusted the doctor. The people who got the best results were people who did things for themselves. All his honors and achievements said so.
Telling the doctor that she had dreamed that she had about 7 years left was not empirical evidence. Until they had found a way to measure her rate of degeneration, Maya had stopped in once a day for measurements and tests. Now that they had a standard, it was once a week.
Maya grunted when Ingram hefted another 5 pound disk weight on her small stack. She was not used to heavy lifting. This was why they used dollies in the Full Circle!
Ingram and Maya both held their breath when the doctor pulled out the single pound rounds. This was where things could get dicey. If she could hold around the same amount of weight as last week, then her degeneration could be at a standstill. Her training and his treatments could be working.
Slowly he slid the first pound on. Slower, he slid on the next.
She wasn't perfectly consistent, but there was an obvious trend. When Maya first came to Ingram, she could hold onto as much as 82 pounds. Her arms were sore the next day, but she could do it.
Now she felt the weight slipping through (literally through) her fingers at around 70 pounds. Sometimes dropping all those weights meant that toes were the casualties of their experiment, but Sebastian was always there to hold her hand. Sometimes when he took her hand at home, she still got phantom toe tingles long after the hurt was gone.