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.
The mechanics were all there. Two parallel rails with equal-ish spacing between them, a bridging armature, metal projectiles and of course, a powerful pulsed power supply.
Okay, she probably didn't have the juice for more than a couple shots, but today she needed the win. Launching cars into Manhattan by transforming the Manhattan Bridge into her own personal rail gun sounded like the prefect release for a day's tension.
Lori folded her arms across the chest of her dress and focused her eyes somewhere around ankle level as she took the footpath across the Manhattan Bridge from Brooklyn toward Long Island. She hardly payed attention to the other pedestrians. Most of the other respectably dressed business men and women were in their cars zipping along without a thought that they might get zipped long much, much faster. Besides, with a ten foot berth, she didn't have to. The blonde could focus all of her energy on finding a bridge support that connected the two major beams of the road.
Heels clacked against pavement until finally, somewhere near the middle, she found it. Or rather, she found a pair of loafers standing right on top of it.
The blonde looked up, ready to tell the guy to scram but... well, the last time she'd seen him, that's about the last thing he had said to her.
Posted by Rupert Kelley on Nov 29, 2011 18:49:14 GMT -6
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Calley
He hadn’t stopped to watch the watch the sunset. He wasn’t that romantic. He wasn’t dolefully eyeing the waters and thinking something stupid, either; he wasn’t that pathetic yet. He was just staring after his damn hat. Under the bland florescence of the bridge lights and the brief blinding bursts of headlights, it traced a lazy spiral down to the black currents of the East River.
July 27, 2011. It was his birthday. It was his birthday, and he had a rash from the damn drug, and he’d just lost his hat.
He was not drunk enough for this, but he was working on it.
A bicyclist went by. He chimed his bell, giving Rupert a split second to throw himself against the guardrail before he got creamed by the kind of guy who wears reflective tape on his pants.
A guardrail, a jumper’s fence, and he still almost followed the hat. How a phazer doesn’t just fall through the damn ground was anyone’s guess. This was even lamer than the brat’s power—at least with breasts, he’d gotten free drinks. He stepped back from the edge, and patted down the front of his suit jacket as high heels, so unwisely alone after dark, clicked his way. Where—ah. The inner pocket. That would make too much damn sense.
>> “Rupert?
The flask clattered through his fingers. Literally. It scuffled over to a stop halfway between them, awkwardly crouching in the streetlight, a weathered sticker on its side eloquently greeting the blond with a smile, and a birdie.
Rupert stared at her. Then he opened his mouth, like he always did.
“Well look at you, all dressed up like something special.” He mimed a hat tip, with a hat that was no longer there. “Evening, Ms. Faust.”
Her soon to be sorority sisters had put her up to it. Lame excuse, but she wouldn't have tried this in so blatant a way had she not been put up to it like this. Success here would mean that Lori had a good chance to make it in the upper echelon.
"I don't have my ID. Is that a problem?"
The clerk's face said that for two kegs it might be, but he wished it wasn't. He had serious moments of conscience that flickered across his face. Flickered, flickered and died.
She almost felt sorry for him. She hadn't picked out her outfit either, but for once it suited her purpose. Her red corset made an audible scrape against the counter when she leeeeeeeaned across it.
Her hands smoothed the clerk's shirt, her false sleeve cuffs dragged after adding extra sensation. Cufflinks winked refracted light onto their close faces.
Her eyes promised to reward him.
Stretched as she was across the counter, the little white cotton tail made for a perfect accent to her stringy, cut off daisy dukes and bunny ears. It was too hot out for anything but fishnets and heels. She looked like a proper hooker, so she was trying her hand at seduction to get what she wanted.
So far it was working.
She would have to try this again. Lori drew in breath, preparing perhaps another sweet nothing. "I have cash."
Posted by Rupert Kelley on Nov 29, 2011 19:09:56 GMT -6
Haven
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“Cash, she says. Be still my beating heart.” He was twenty-four. His hair was all Italian: little black curls, cut close. He wore old jeans and a new Bruce Springsteen T. He had a bottle of scotch in one hand, and a police badge casually flipped open in the other. “It’s a crime to sell to minors. Or didn’t your boss tell you?”
The clerk’s face was just as red, but Rupert had a hunch it was for a different reason. “I—”
“Yeah. Heard it. Ring this up for me, would you?” He slipped the scotch on the counter with a twenty, and stared down at the girl.
She had long blonde hair. A red corset. Little white tail. How precious.
“Those rabbit ears really make you look taller,” Rupert said. The smile was on the house.
Her wad of cash, mostly singles, slammed down on top of the twenty. "Wait your turn." Her cash made a louder thump than the boy's had. She glanced over her shoulder at him. Correction. Man. She looked again, longer this time. Correction. Cop. Jesus.
The look on his face said that he wasn't taking this seriously. All the same she slid her heels back onto the liquor store floor tiles and put her hands on her hips. It was hard to be taken seriously when dressed as a bunny. Lori tried.
"And that badge is making you look a whole. lot. smaller." She had always looked younger than she was, now she was worse than jail bait. She was jail bound. If she was going down, she was going to drive the bus.
The clerk looked between the two of them nervously and the register dinged. He held up his hands as if to say 'Hey, I didn't do it!'
Posted by Rupert Kelley on Nov 29, 2011 19:37:21 GMT -6
Haven
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Calley
Rupert casually scooped up his change, and any other cash that happened to be on the counter. Mostly singles.
“Is that resisting arrest? If you wanted me to get out the handcuffs, Bugz, you could have just asked.”
He didn’t actually have handcuffs. Not on him. Rupert might be the kind of beat cop that always carried his badge, but the rest of the gear stayed stowed. No need for My Little Call Girl to know that, though.
He leaned back against the counter, and poked at her with a hand full of her own cash.
“I’m going to need either the name of your pimp, or the name of the sorority who put you up to this.”
Her dad would have slapped her for that last comment. Apparently, this man took it more as a joke. He was hardly even a cop. He was just some guy like every other guy she'd ever met. Irresponsible and horny. A giddy, slightly panicked giggle bubbled out before she could stop it. This was worse because he was an irresponsible, horny cop.
And he was threatening to take her little cotton tail off to jail in handcuffs! For some reason, Lori just wanted to tease him. She took a step forward so that the money slipped against her bodice, folding upward.
The blonde folded her hand over his where it gripped the bills and slid everything together. "I'm not telling you jack sh*t." She pushed her fingers down which in turn pushed his fingers down under the top lip of her tight fitting top. This effectively stuffed all those wrinkly little singles into what would be her bra, if corsets had bras.
She yanked his hand out quick enough so that he came out and the money stayed. George peeked just over the rim of her corset. "But I can't stop you from following me either."
Lori turned her cotton tail to him then and stomped heavily toward the two kegs. She had paid for them. They were hers. She wrangled one little push cart keg in front of her and one behind. They were heavy, her arm muscles strained but she was pulling a dramatic walk out here. There was no way she would ask for help.
Invitation sent. Answer pending. Little bunny foo foo rolled her kegs toward the door. If her top weren't so tight, she might have hyperventilated.
---
Lovely backhanded compliment, loafers. "If you're going to jump, could you hurry it up a little?" The blonde stepped up to the flask and bent at the waist to retrieve it. Heels dictated her balance. Also, she had assets. Assets that she didn't mind reminding him about.
Her fingers hesitated before she snatched up the flask. He still had that old thing? "I have big plans for this bridge." She sniffed the open top— Ugh. The cheap stuff. — before offering it back over to him.
Posted by Rupert Kelley on Dec 2, 2011 20:42:26 GMT -6
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“Ever the concerned citizen, Lori.”
She hadn’t changed one damn bit. Except for the way she dressed—that was new. She really was dolled up like someone special, from high heels that could stab a man’s heart out to a dress that most girls would save for a—
Rupert snerked. “What, did you escape out the bathroom window, sugar?”
Her taste in men always was dodgy. That sure explained the sour look on her face. And that walk like she was going to kick every man, woman, and car off this bridge. Not to mention the hoighty-toighty way she crinkled her little rabbit nose up at his scotch. Not good enough for her anymore, huh? Not for a lady of her station. Superior now, wasn’t she?
He plucked the flask out of her hand, with a thank-you-ma’am smile. His fingers brushed against hers with a static jolt that ran both ways.
He snatched for the flask and when their fingers touched, it was like magic. Life began to filter back into Lori's face and it grew and grew into a smile. She advanced a step on him. It could have been a fluke. Wool socks or, heaven forbid, a cat.
"Rupert, dear. Are you entirely sure you're still human?"
If he had miraculously become an electrical mutant, she had every intention to drain his battery dry. Payback was a b***. And her name was Lori.
Posted by Rupert Kelley on Dec 6, 2011 18:02:38 GMT -6
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The moral high ground. He'd lost it somewhere.
---
He drove a red El Camino with a white stripe down the middle. The rust by its wheels had been spray-painted into submission, but the shade he’d used didn’t quite match up. The suspension creaked as loudly as the stereo as it bounced its way over the broken pavement.
The potholes were getting bigger. The houses were getting smaller. Rupert pulled over to the side of the road, double-checking his directions by streetlight.
At five to seven, the El Camino rolled into the florescent lights of the gas station. Rupert hung out his window with a grin.
A hot line of sweat trickled down her spine. The heat made for painful loitering, but Lori didn't advertise the trailer park as her home. Better to have Mister Sassypants misunderstand than know for sure which tornado magnet she called home.
The blonde matched Rupert grin for grin and used the tire tread to help her climb up into the passenger seat. "Only since forever. I got you a present." She didn't miss a beat, instead dropping a little stapled pamphlet with bold lettering into Rupert's lap. Monsters Among Us: Know Your Power, Defend Your Rights
Lori propped her sneakers up on the dashboard and leaned back into the depths of her seat. "There's a coupon for beer in the back."
Posted by Rupert Kelley on Dec 6, 2011 18:12:45 GMT -6
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Rupert flipped back to the beer coupon, first. “Buy one get one. Nice. Does that make you the buy one, or the get one?” He flashed a grin, and started flipping through the rest. Live music, guest speakers from the Church of Humanity, and two dollars off fifteen dollars or more of food coupons.
“So what is this thing, anyway?” Little Miss Lori’s propped-up posterior was rather close to the stick shift. As Rupert put the El Camino into gear, accidents may have happened. “Some kind of block party?”
What side of the beer coupon was she on? Lori grinned a slow budding grin. "Do you even have to ask?" Her face said that she was clearly the mooch without her having to utter a word.
"Block party seems about right. We can grab a snack and a drink and then maybe someone will share some blanket." Because Lori didn't have one and laying out on the lawn to listen to music got tiresome for whoever was actually sitting on the grass. Lori planned to sit on Rupert so she wasn't really too worried.
Any "accidental" shifting was rewarded with an appropriate level of squealing and giggling and the general encouragement of such accidents. Once they rolled into the lot, the large tire-ed, rusty El Camino seemed more like it was re-joining the pack rather than parking. The cars were all in similar states of disrepair and customization. Lori took that as a sign, but didn't want to push her luck with rhetoric this early.
"You hungry? I hope there's turkey legs."
Strangers waved to them in the parking lot. Actually waved all friendly-like. There was nothing like a good old-fashioned anti-mutant rally to get the friendliness flowing.
Posted by Rupert Kelley on Dec 6, 2011 18:15:27 GMT -6
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He had a buy-one beer in one hand, a get-one in the other, and a blonde on his lap tearing into a turkey leg the size of his head. They never did find a blanket. Somehow, he wasn’t about to cry his eyes out.
“So I’m standing there thinking, ‘Crap, this guy is dead.’ He’s just floating in the pond, butt naked—and we’re talking a foot of water. It takes a special kind of genius for that, even if you’re talking drunks. So I say to Weston, ‘Okay, do you want to get a stick, or should I?’ when this guy just shoots up, and starts screaming. Weston about sh—”
“I said, good evening, ladies and gentlemen!” Second time around, the guy behind the stage’s microphone got a round of hoots and hollers, and a bit more attention. Rupert broke off. “Thank you to our last performers, Watson and Crick. I hear they’ve got a stand set up for CDs—that right boys? All right, then. Now, I’m not a man of long speeches, so lets get this mike turned over to the man you’ve all been waiting for. A man after all our hearts: the Church of Humanity’s very own Brother Rick Astley!”
Hands a bit full, Rupert added his own quick whoop to the hollers and applause. He was hoping for a chance to get back to his story, but no such luck: the couple next to him, on their red-white-and-blue blanket, sshed him for even thinking about it. Rupert bided his time. This guy was an entertaining speaker: he had to give him that. Very animated.
A few minutes in, Rupert leaned forward to whisper a sweet question in Lori’s ear: “…What’s a ‘mutie’?”
Rupert had a way of making police work sound even better than TV. They were all good ol' boys with the best intentions and guns. Lori found herself wondering if she might some day go into the force... probably not. She didn't think risking her life would ever be in her job requirements, but it was fun to imagine all the same.
Also her date made for a very pleasant and responsive blanket. His strong shoulders made an even better chair back.
"You know. Mutants?" The blonde spared a glance for the couple that shushed her before continuing. "The witchy people who do all those unnatural things." A shiver ran down her spine and it wasn't from the chill that came with dusk.
They were preaching on how to defend yourself against one now. None of it sounded much different from Lori's normal fighting tactic: run the hell away. A quick check showed Lori that their neighbors were busy making out so Lori turned to face her chair.