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.
"Afriad so," she said as she continued to wipe at her nose. "It'll be okay." She started to put the fiddle in the case and then tilted her head... "You like what I just did, really?" Martha was curious... She knew there were people who liked it, but she wasn't sure how many because she wasn't used to the attention. The one thing she worried about was using her powers to do bad things, or being used to do bad things by other people. She doubted Gemma would do such a thing, nor the people of the Mansion.
She wiped at her face with the back of her hand after she finished putting the fiddle away. "I don't know how to control it as well as I could. I didn't get to practice much in the community."
Martha took a deep breath... She wasn't finished. That was just a little tiny bit of what she had in her. Her eyes opened, and she started playing the theme from Phantom of the Opera, one of her very favorites. And then she began to sing the words, focusing on the heaviest things she knew she could lift with her mind as she sang with her husky, rocker typed voice. It was a planter... It looked to be a good, weighty one, filled with dirt and plants alike. There was an intensity about it, something enthralling, like perhaps she focused all of her hurts and angers into her music and into the telekinesis. It took a few minutes, and it hurt her head, but the planter lifted a good ten feet off the ground, then moved toward another spot to gently be set back on the ground by the end of the song. And then, she was through...
The silence yawned for a few moments... Martha lowered the fiddle, a little tiny bit of blood trickling from her nose as it seemed to do when she pushed a little too hard. She lifted her hand and wiped the trickle away. "Ain't much to look at," she said, "But that's it."
She nodded, then took a deep breath. The violin was moved into place, as was the bow. She closed her eyes and just... played... She breathed into the music, relaxed, lost herself... It was like night and day, this girl who bared her anxieties without meaning to, poured a deeper part of her soul into the music, a deep part that sometimes even brought tears to her eyes depending on the piece. She moved gracefully, not faltering, not hitting a sour note, for it was a practiced song she had memorized. The violin was alive because of her playing, and within a small amount of time, even though she paid no heed to the objects around her, things began to move around her... There was hardly a breeze, yet the leaves on the nearest tree began to sway like the wind blew... The petals that had fallen from flowers began to circle through the air around her, aloft on some force that should have been wind. Her expression was that of angst, her heart poured into every note, measure, crescendo and diminuendo that she played.
Martha wasn't even trying to show off... she didn't like to show off... The things moving just happened. If she had wanted to show off, she would most certainly do so, but it was clear that the moving objects were not even on her mind like they would be for the onlooker. It was beautiful, possibly even breathtaking if one was so inclined to stop breathing for a moment. This was what she had used to escape the hurts in her world, this little fiddle in her embrace. Indeed, tears did roll down her face because the song was a sorrowful one and she cried because it touched her heart.
Gemma didn't have to tell her twice. She was outside quickly, though left her stuff inside... She did, however, reach for her violin and a blanket to sit on, because... well... dirt. So she was laying down said blanket before sitting down with her fiddle, pulling it out of the case and looking at Gemma. "You said you wanted to see, right? I can show ya if you want." It would help her focus on something other than freaking out. The powers didn't necessarily have to happen, just... the music. It really did help to level her out when she was in midst of angsty, panicky feels like right then.
Yeah, she spent a moment tuning the thing by ear, and already relaxed.
"I dunno, pizza..? Never had it. What's it like? I don't have to have that, just... whatever is available." She shrugged and had to keep her eyes cast downward and such because she was literally trembling at the moment, very clammy, and not having an easy time at all of being in there. She had to let go of her things at one point and sit down heavily on her tote even though chairs were available. Last time she had been in the building, she had the worst panic attack of her life and she was trying very hard not to have another.
He talked more than she did for the moment. She ate, the food was good, and she was stuffing food in her mouth the way she has the hamburger she wished she had never eaten, she was so sick of burgers anyways. She ate and ate and ate as he talked. She thought she was a talker but Richard out-talked her any day. He wanted to fix her car. There was no fixing that car... He was even talking about building her a camper, she blinked at that... "Well, I am getting a camper from the mansion, I guess." Of course, she had to accept the offer. "But maybe one day you can help design a tiny house or somethin'?" She at least threw him something for his efforts.
And god, she was eating and eating and feeling pretty crappy. "The car ain't worth fixin', it's older than both of us combined, dude. It's a miracle it still ran as long as it did." And it was true, how it stayed alive as long as it had was a mystery. Probably because it had been well maintained for most of it's life? She didn't know.
She gave a nod and then said, "I can do this... I need to stop being weird." And then she, with a determined looked, grabbed the handles of the things that held all of her worldly possessions and started to walk toward the Mansion. The closer she got, the more hesitant she was, and she kept making sure that Gemma was with her the whole way. . It was like she really wanted to try, but part of her held back, though not enough to stop her when it came time to crossing the threshold of the edifice. Through the hallways, she had to let Gemma navigate, but they were soon in the cafeteria, and a shaky-from-nerves Martha stood there, sweat glistening on her face from the intensity of her nerves getting to her, but by golly, she was in there...
Did she even need to ask if she wanted food? Martha never turned down food. "Sounds good to me," she said quietly about the food. She took a deep breath and said, "What do I do? I don't want you to keep bringin' me stuff, Gemma. Do I have to stay in if I go in?" She was willing to try going inside if it meant eating, which was going to be hard but Gemma wasn't her mother and was most certainly not her maid, therefor she wasn't comfortable with asking her to get food for her again. She just had to try and pull her big girl pants on, right?
Martha licked her lips and stared at the mansion, then squared her shoulders and grabbed her duffel and tote. Enough was enough.
"Oh my goodness, thank you..." she said as Gemma got through making her phone call. When Martha heard her ask if she wanted to see any of them first, she said, "I am grateful just to have one. It could be ugly as sin and I would still be grateful." And it was true. The car she had been driving might have been old and ready to go, but she had made something out of it, hadn't she? She was going to make it hers regardless of what it looked like.
"I tried to sleep in someone's guest bed, and he was sweet for letting me... But I didn't feel right about that either..." Even though he was glad to let her.
"I..." Gemma surprised her by giving her a hug and she was surprised that she really wanted the hug and returned it like a kid to a mom. Maybe she lingered for a bit, and then finally pulled back. "My car died. I bought a tent and a sleeping bag, but the thought of sleeping on the ground is worse than sleeping in the car, and... I don't know... Can I take you up on the camper? I can't sleep on the ground or in a car anymore!" Especially not after sleeping in Richard's spare bed for a few days even though it kind of freaked her out to do so.
"I will give the rest of my money just for an old rv. That is all I need." That was close enough to a home, right? It had a kitchen, it had a place to sit, it could be driven, there was a bathroom, a shower, and a bed! The thought of that was so nice that she wouldn't even care how ugly the furniture was, she would cover it up and decorate it and have a place of her own!
Martha had taken off for a time, perhaps a week. Any time she left, she usually went back to the mansion lot before dark because she was driving a hoopty and didn't want to get caught on the road, broken down, in the dark. Unfortunately for her, the car was dead and she was left stranded. Granted, she had been okay, she had been in a safe place, but she wasn't ready for living with someone, even if he had been very kind to take her in. She tapped into her saved money and bought an army duffel, a tent, and a sleeping bag from a consignment shop, and a plastic tote box with wheels on it to fit things in that weren't clothes, packed all of the belongings out of her car, payed for it to be towed, and finally, paid for the cab to take her back to the mansion.
She was dropped off by said taxi and her belongings pulled out of the trunk, she needed to find herself a clearing so she wasn't sleeping in a tent where all could see so more questions could be asked... Then again, did she really want to sleep on the ground? It was one thing to sleep in a car, but the ground got cold, didn't it? She sighed and sat down on the tote, deciding that today would be the day she finally asked for help to get an rv.... A used one was fine.. She would be perfectly happy in one.
So she caught the attention of someone and asked if they'd do her the favor of going to find Gemma, she explained she really couldn't go into the mansion due to her anxiety and even offered to pay the guy, which he declined the money but went for the rest. Martha sat anxiously on the tote at that point and waited.
"No, my car died halfway into the parking space and it's not coming back... The engine is smoking and knocking and won't turn over. I was supposed to go back to the mansion before dark but I fell asleep and was scared someone would break in and do something to me or something." She had reached her limit for sure this time. Between being scared and being very alone, being hungry and being tired, the car dying was the last straw. She didn't go in very far, she ended up leaning against the door and just bawling like her heart was broken. They were most certainly not crocodile tears meant to gain sympathy, the girl really was just sobbing her heart out.
"I couldn't take it anymore though. Momma kept trying to make me marry some gypsy boy because when a gypsy girl is over twenty, not married, and has no baby, she is a spinster! And I was always taking care of my brothers in a tiny ass camper like it was some grand old castle, and even if I did try to find a good gypsy boy, my brothers would chase him off. I can't go back if I wanted to now, I will be shunned, especially if they know I have powers! So I don't know where to go, my car f---ing died, and I am tired and dirty and hungry and I hate it. And I am sorry, I don't even know you, so I don't know why I am venting to you!" She just spilled it out like it was nothing but tea to spill.
God, everything was a mess. "And I would be hated for being around Gorgers too much!"
"I hope so," she hiccuped... She did hope so... Martha stood up and said, "I am ready to sleep..." She really was. ANd assuming Gemma went with her, Martha even kind of leaned tiredly against her on the way back...
He walked upon her, she was about to fall asleep, the greasy food wasn't sitting well with her. She rolled down the window, he gave her his address despite her telling him that she didn't want help, damn it! He would probably notice something odd about the car.... It was immaculate. The body shone with a good cleaning, the tires were shiny, the inside of the car was clean... The back seat was set up like a tiny bedroom. He would be able to see the little plastic set of drawers with a battery operated lamp on top on one side next to her pillows, and there was a pretty, colorful patchwork quilt that she lay on.
"Leave me alone," she said, and the sound of her sniffle would probably drift to his ear. She rolled the window back up and stubbornly pressed into the back support. She didn't know if he actually understood her plight. After he walked off, she sighed and got out, then got into the front seat. It was probably a few hours later, and it was dark, and the streets were starting to get scary. She usually headed back to the mansion parking lot before it was even dark, but she had fallen asleep because of the queasiness.
Martha made it to the address in question after breaking down three or four times. She pulled in as the engine started to knock and smoke, and she realized that she wouldn't be moving the car any time soon when it stalled halfway into the parking spot. She got out and attempted to push the heavy thing the rest of the way... by herself... But it kept rolling back on her. She hit the horn repeatedly at that point, put the car into park, and gave up.
