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.
She had to shake her head at the interaction between the crazy old coot and the dummy he controlled. She could just as easily lift that dummy just by singing to him, but she chose to let him have his fun without bursting his bubble. The old fart was a few crayons short of a box, his deck of cards was missing the aces... Uh... Yeah, she could keep on going in her mind. Not trusting him, she used that moment that he was distracted by the dummy sticking the cancer stick in his mouth, and quickly folded the money as tight as she could get it, sticking that into her bra, right under her boob. There was no way she was letting go of that cash. Mind you, she had no idea he wanted to pick pocket.
Her hands folded in front of her and she had her poker face on by the time the old coot was focused on her again, and then they were on their way to the park for real. Then he said some song she had never heard of... Hey, she wasn't really allowed to listen to much gorger music, let alone the older stuff... But she snuck some stuff in, and it was more modern.
"No, silly putz... What are you wanting me to sing FOR? Like... do you want me to wedgie a few of those kids from over here?" She gestured around, "Do you want me to make a dog back flip? Pick something reasonable, I can't lift too much more 'an I weigh, kay?" Hopefully that would clear his state of confusion enough to get it.
She shook her head again and crossed her arms over her bosoms. Her eyes watched him intently, and she waited again for him to reply to her.
"And be around all kinds of people on purpose? I dunno about that, Kid. I just got away from a loud bunch of people and you thank I wanna go live with more? Pshyeah right." She laughed. She had a nice laugh. "Besides, I don't even know where it is anyways." She stuffed the last, pretty big piece of burger into her mouth and chewed. She wadded up the wrapper and chucked it in the trash, then when she finished eating, a soft belch came out without her meaning to. "Scuse me." Martha grabbed for a napkin from her console, wiping her mouth daintily now. She felt much better, much less grumpy. God, it felt good to have food.
The man practically tossed money in her face. That would buy her lots of food. Hell yeah. "You just bought yourself a private concert, you crazy old fart. And by private, I mean public. And forget hotdogs, nasty thangs." She wrinkled her nose and then gestured to the park without preamble. "I'll just have to eat later, mmm? Yeah... Cause no way in hell am I sticking a hot dog in my gut. I might be desperate, but I would dig through the trash before I eat that sh*t."
She pocketed the money before he had a chance to take it back. NO GIVESIES BACKSIES! Hah Martha was on her way to the park when he, who's car was broken down, made fun of her fricken car like he had room to talk. "At least my s**tty ass pinto runs." She retorted at his jest. "More 'an I can say about your piece of polished dog turd. Come on..." And then she took off for the park.
Once in the park, assuming he followed, which he probably would since he dropped two grand on her like it was nothing at all, she turned to him and gestured, "Whatcha want me to sing for, hmm? We got lots of stuff... Pick your poison." Martha folded her arms again and waited for his reply.
Her eyes glittered as they bore holes into him. She wanted to get this done and over with so she could go somewhere fancy and get her something totally expensive to eat for the first time in her life... Or, perhaps, she would use the money to actually better her situation some. That would be nice... Right?
"A mutant, eh? Can you melt sh*t with your sunlight infused powers? Cause that would be pretty cool. Not gonna lie. But no... I ain't never heard of that place. Being a mutant is pretty taboo in Gypsy culture. You were considered cursed if you could do weird sh*t like what you are talking about. Maybe that's why I ran away. Cause I guess you can call me one too. But no matter, right? I'll make my own way and damn the consequences." She shoved half the burger in her mouth at that point, groaning as she pigged out. Damn it, but that burger was delicious.
She seemed like she could not care any less right at that moment.
She ignored all the stares. Pfft... It was exactly the feeling she got with her extended family closing in on her. Get out of here! She continued to pack her belongings without a qualm, without so much as twitching an eyebrow at the psycho, knife wielding bear. Martha looked at the man, finally lifting a brow at him and countering, "I don't go to private places with gorgers, let alone men. Kinda against the rules of the Gypsy. And I have a feeling that you would get this gypsy girl in trouble." Why was it so hard for her to detach herself from her culture when she had run away, fair and square? She really didn't have a home to go back to, she didn't have a reputation to uphold... But, then again, this man was kind of creepy, yo. Why would he think she would go and be alone with him?
Martha stood up and grabbed the milk crate and violin case, going toward her beat up looking Pinto, opening the door and gently putting her things away. "I am kinda hungry. You wanna talk? Buy me a meal, buddy, and I'll sing for you, maybe." She locked her car and nodded to a nearby restaurant. "Public eye, no funny sh*t, hands on the table. Got it?" She was feisty!
"Oh, and do YOU have another name? Cause I don't. My name really is Martha." With that, she leaned against her car and folded her arms over her bosoms and waited for his reply. Her dark eyes were glittering as she regarded him with a no bull-poo stare. Her well manicured hands lifted to tuck away at stray strands of hair that lifted with the slight breeze. "You can even bring your minions if you want. I don't care. Ain't nothin' to me. My family is scarier. Ain't nothin' more scary than a bunch of pissed off Gypsies."
Something about her tone told him she meant it. She didn't seem the least bit afraid of Rhett or his toy brigade that he had going on. Apart from being effing creepy, it showed the man was touched in his head, and not taking him seriously might be the wrong move... Or rather, not catering to the way his brain seemed to think.
"You're pretty curious," she stated blandly, examining her nails. She then said, "It's dark out, now. You absorbing moon beams too?" She wasn't even teasing him. She sighed and grabbed the other burger, unable to keep from eating it because, damn it, she was still hungry. She took a healthy bite of the sandwich and asked, mouth full of food again, "What mansion?" Normally, she cared about appearances, but she couldn't help the hunger being sharp as it was.
Her eyes watched him carefully, guarded. Hell, never used to talk to gorgers... She briefly wondered if the kid was of a rainbow typed personality. But to be honest? She didn't care if he was or not. She hated some of the strict rules in her culture.
A funny thing happened as she started to play her second song: A dummy came up, unaided, and dropped a twenty in her case, staring up at her with glassy, creepy eyes that would cause a normal person to lose it. She, however, was an actual, honest to goodness, gypsy; the real deal... And, well, they were born performers. She had a character to portray. The doll barely phased her, as creepy as it was, and it was the voice of it's master that drew her dark eyes.
She gave a slow smile back, and continued to ply the bow to the violin, her eyes now locking, half mast, with the eyes of Puppeteer. She stepped slowly off the milk crate, and moved toward him, walking around him as if to make him part of her act and causing the crowd to feel as if the puppets were just part of the show, and she would end that second song right up next to the man, gesture, and give a bow. More money hit the violin case.
Martha gave another bow to indicate the show was over, moved over to her case, and popped a squat on the milk crate. As the crowd dispersed, she counted her money, fingers shaking a little as she realized this was her most lucrative payout yet. The money was stashed quickly away, the violin was packed carefully in it's case, and without even looking up from her task, she finally replied to the man who came upon her mini show. "And I am a Gypsy. But you can call me Martha," she said with her Louisville drawl.
She slowly stood to straighten herself out, letting her gaze reach the older looking man who was probably not all there, and her head tilted in a way that told him that she was trying to figure him out. "Thanks for the bill, Mister Puppeteer. Appreciate it." She did not, however, leave. She was as fascinated with him as he was with her.
From somewhere nearby, the first strains of some heart achingly beautiful violin music started to play. It was haunting; the tempo slow and sad sounding, and one could see a a crowd gathering as they gravitated toward that music. If one followed the sound, if one were to peer over the shoulders of the circle of people that stood within a certain radius as if rats drawn to a pied piper, they would see the dark haired young woman who wore the old skool gypsy costume, standing tall upon a milk crate that was covered in some shimmery fabric. And this gypsy had a completely transfixed look upon her own face, for she wasn't playing just to hear the sound of money falling into the open violin case upon the pavement of the sidewalk... She was playing because she was moved by the sound of her own violin.
It was almost sexual in nature, the way she moved the bow over the strings. She plied the instrument like it was her long time lover, breathing into each movement and moving gracefully. The crowd around her was silent with awe, not even noticing the way she accidentally caused the movements of different objects... It was like even inanimate objects seemed to have lives of their own, like loose change dragging about, rocks, trash cans rattling, et cetera...
She was oblivious to her own powers at the moment, for it wasn't her intent to cause things to happen, it was just that she was so enraptured by the tune. She played this song for several minutes, and it came to a slow and peaceful end. Some of her audience stood, silent, some weeping, and some reaching into their pocketbooks to start throwing folding money and loose change into the case, as if to urge her to keep playing... How could she deny the silent requests?
She gave a bow, and then moved onto the next song...
"I wanna be on broadway..." She said, a starry eyed look in her eyes at that point. Yeah, she had the dream. Annnnd living it was easier said than done. "For now, I guess it's just me and my fiddle." She nodded toward the fiddle that was tucked safely under the duffel, on the floor of the car. Yep, seemed like a great life, right?
She sighed and asked, "Why you askin' all these question anyways, kid?" Her brow quirked as she turned her dark eyes his way.
"Yes, we have sun in Kentucky, silly." She waited for him to understand why the tanning bed thing was actually weird. She, herself, had her last bit of a fading tan from one of those blasted beds. That part was great. She didn't want to look like shoe leather.
"I just got here a few weeks ago. Thought If'd try my luck at making it in the big city. So far, I am just hungry and tired." She gave a shrug and looked down at her hands. "I don't wanna be some actress. I wanna sing."
The sound of her fiddle was sweet agony in the ears of the crowd that gathered around her one evening in the streets of the Big Apple. Warm air drifted around folks to carry the sound further along, and the sound of folding money and change dropping into her violin case was the perfect accompaniment to the chords she coaxed from her trusty extension, Betsy. The gypsy woman stood atop a milk crate that she had decorated with a sparkly cloth that had "Gypsy" embroidered across the front facade of the object. As she picked up speed with skill, the vibrations would touch the souls of her audience members, and she would glance around under mostly lowered lashes, contemplating lifting a few valuables off of people through telekenesis that would keep her fed for a few days longer... But no... She still felt guilty for stealing a mere, ten dollars. The money the man had given her... well... She ended up giving it to someone who needed it bad, and it still hadn't made it feel better.
Not that panhandling on the street was any better.... But at least she was earning her money honestly, right? Martha finished the song to the sound of applause, and money just started raining into the violin case, and then the crowd dispersed with her graciously bowing to those around her. She flopped her well padded rump down on the milk crate and started to count the folding money.. Feeling grateful when she saw there was at least fifty dollars, not including change. Holy crap! Figuring it was best to pick up and leave before risking getting mugged, she dumped the money into her pocket, gently put away her violin, and headed to the nearest fast food place for a cheap meal, starving because she hadn't eaten in another three days after giving the money to someone who looked far hungrier than she was.
"Too late anyways." She said with a sigh, "They'll not let me back in the community now without proving I'm still pure. Oh well. I just want to live." She muttered all of this to herself more than anything. Then she peered at him with her eye brow lifted... "I come from Kentucky. Tanning beds are a thang, yeah." She gave a shrug and eye balled him. "Gorgers like you don't understand. See, in the land of Gypsies, we do weird thangs like go to get spray tans and clean our houses from dawn till dusk like the germies will eat us or somethin. Everyone is loud and fighting and stupid. Heaven forbid I don't wanna get married at fourteen, I am an old maid cause I am older than 20. Get it now? We're weird. Y'all have it easy on the outside with your real sun." She snorted and then opened her car back up to sit down on the passenger seat.
"Running away." she muttered. "I'm tired, I am hungry, I miss my loud family... But too late now, I spose." Martha shrugged, wadded up the fry bag and stuck it in the nearby trashcan because she refused to litter. Now that her stomach was full, she sighed, feeling the guilt start to eat at her for the money she took. But she had already spent a few bucks of it and she really needed the rest to keep herself afloat for the next bit of time. Damn it, what to do?
"We gypsies use tanning beds to emulate the sun." She said, and realized how stupid that was.
She had a fry held halfway to her lips when he asked her that question. "Wherever I can find a shower. Mostly truck stops... Not much of those here in the Big Apple though, I spose. I manage." She ate the fries, stuck her hand back into the bag and frowned when she closed her fingers around that last little one. Damn. She had to make that money stretch... It would feed her for the next month if she was careful. The fast food had been mostly dollar menu items... And she couldn't eat that junk forever... It wasn't like it even tasted good... She was just hungry.
"It doesn't matter anyways. This was a stupid idea."
"You are looking at my home," she muttered at him, first for him telling her to slow down, then at him asking her if she was homeless. Jeeze, who was this guy?? She didn't mean to be irritable. Her stomach was still feeling empty, and she dug out the second bag of fries, shoving three in her mouth and chewing. She spoke around the food again, "Gypsies are used to wandering around in cars, though..." she shrugged up at him and stood up, opening her car door with a loud squeak of protest coming from that. She tossed her other burger in the car for later. He would see that the car was IMMACULATE. Like, he could eat candy off the floor.
Her stuff was packed neatly into an army duffel that she kept in the back seat, there was no trash on the floor, there were cleaning products in a dollar store basket, and her personal hygiene stuff was neatly placed in another. Her car smelled like... lemon pine cleaner? What in the world? She leaned against the hood of her car after closing the door, nomming on the fries and licking the salt from her fingers.
