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.
Posted by Verdigris on Nov 8, 2012 17:45:26 GMT -6
Beta Mutant
512
0
May 15, 2013 18:46:44 GMT -6
Hmmm, it's all metal stuff, as Cafas is a metal manipulator and its his shop... but there might be something with malachite on it decoratively or something? If Alex found the website for the shop he could have comissioned something specific, but unless someone else did and it wasn't picked up, there probably wouldn't be any just laying around :/
I have no idea about the starting time, but seeing as its listed as a current plot, it can't be too far away... I have 4 days of performance left, then I'm done uni for the year, and will be free for mucho posting ^_^.
Well, I noticed you also put yourself forward for the habitat for mutanity plot, so we could thread us meeting up at an induction day. Verdy lives at the mansion, is often out and about walking her dog, and works in Cafas' sword shop, if any of those tickle your fancy either
How would one tell if a movie was going badly? She assumed B-grade actors would know they were B-grade actors, or at least recognise the automaton responses of their co-stars and guess. Plus, from what she could tell the movie he was working on was a little higher calibre than the latest budget-cut screen filler, trying to make it big.
“Never really had beer like that…”
In all honesty she was more of an alcohol-that-doesn’t-taste-like-alcohol kinda girl, but she wouldn’t say no to free drinks offered by a buddy.
Vegemite. That was it, the icky-sticky substance used, as far as she could tell, in Australian college initiation ceremonies, or for purging the palate of tastebuds. He compared the strength of flavours with the over sugary nature of American food, and while she wasn’t quite sure how the two measured up against each other, she was inclined to agree.
“I guess because Americans would prefer to ruin their teeth than their tongues.”
Damn it, now she felt like bacon pancakes. Was there even anywhere open nearby that sold such a syrup-sodden all-day-breakfast food? Surely, there was bound to be. Besides it was progressing towards dinner, and the beer sloshing around in her empty belly reminded her that she probably should have had lunch, or breakfast, or even a snack. There was something just so absorbing about video-games, you could forget that you were a human being with needs, or organs such as the stomach and bladder.
“Are you hungry?”
Who knew, maybe there was some Australian café (did Australians have cafes?) where she could try some of this Vegemite, or some other Aussie delicacy.
The wad of cash was welcome, while she had no immediate bills, and her saving account was steadily growing, she had in mind a few things she wanted to buy, a new winter coat among them.
“Thankyou muchly. Fair enough, days off are quite nice, and all the better when there’s a bit of a drink involved. How is that movie going, by the way?”
She took the offered beer and cracked it open. She wasn’t entirely sure how Australian beer would differ from normal beer, but figured she wasn’t really a connoisseur, or someone who could even really taste the difference between brands. She took a moderate swig (one didn’t really sip beer, as far as she could tell) and immediately went into a somewhat elaborate coughing fit.
“So…hack cough splutter strong”
It was true, the beer was quite different to the almost mellow flavour of those she had tasted in the states. It had punch, and an air of larrikin she had seen in her Aussie friend, kind of a light-hearted but heavy handed slap on the back. It was fitting, really, a drink that so reflected the culture it was from. The fact that the cans were printed with the triple X so often seen on TV or in cartoons (albeit with an additional X tacked on the end) also amused her a little more than it probably should have. Her cough abated, she took another, more cautious slurp, this time prepared for the full-fledged flavour, and the rough fizz down her throat.
“Why do Australians like such strong flavours?”
She was reminded of the stories she had been told about the semi-solid black salt they spread on toast or sandwiches, the multitude of kill-you-in-your-sleep-critters and the general nature of Australians, and realised she should have been more cautious to try anything with Australia in the ‘made in’ line.
As has happened before, RL took over... Uni got hectic, with 8hr rehearsal days most days/week... However, my play is on next weekend, and as such I should be back into posting etc properly, and at reasonable times, rather than sneaky-middle-of-the-night-posts with Cafas and such... Fingers crossed for being back properly~! <3 Verdy
I reckon Verdy would be up for some helping-out-the-masses/ trying-to-make-mutants-seem-less-shoddy-ness... Also it may give her a chance to work on her power somewhat, portal hand-nailgun anyone? Looking forward to the threads ^_^
After a little fumbling the door opened and her pink haired friend-come-employer stood before her, a little unsteady, but cheerful. When he waved her in she gladly entered, it had been too long since they had had a decent catch up.
“Good, good, been a bit busy at the shop.”
Of course he knew that, he was the one who read and filled the order forms she helped customers complete and submit. If he didn’t know how busy it had been there must have been sword-elves coming in at night to do all the smithing.
“Got the cash, actually, from the last couple orders.”
So saying she plonked her bag on the nearest bed, disrupting a small pile of cans, and rummaged through to the bottom where the cash stash was lurking. Offering the bag to the metal manipulator she noted the other cans scattered about the room.
“Celebrating?”
He had good reason, the shop was going so well that even on commission she was quite well off, as the larger portion of the sales went to Cafas, he was surely doing well. Although, as far as she knew he had a steady boyfriend, which she lacked and expected could be a bit of a money spending reason.
It had been some time since she had checked in with Cafas, he had always been out when she was in, or they had missed each other by moments, or he was locked in the Danger Room… All manner of reasons as to why she was currently in possession of an almost comically large sack of money, money that really should have been transferred to the pink-haired metal manipulator weeks ago. Still, she was only comfortable with leaving a certain amount at the shop (multiple locks and all) and when the customers paid with cash for custom made weapons, well, the green stuff just added up.
This time she was determined to get a hold of him. She searched first the corridors, with the sack of cash safely stashed at the bottom of her backpack, wrapped in a jumper and under a drink bottle and some books. When the corridors produced only a few kids mucking around and a puddle of what looked like it had once been carpet she proceeded to the Danger Room. Outside the Danger Room was a line-up of assorted mutants, some obviously so, some not. When a slippery looking youth informed her that a lesson was about to begin she deduced that there was no Cafas there, either. She decided she would try his room, before heading on to the grounds, and eventually to the shop if she hadn’t yet found him.
She made her way gradually over to his room, stopping to look at the beginnings of Christmas decorations, passing by the kitchen to get a snack, all that jazz. She had almost finished her second cookie when she arrived at his door and rat-a-tat-tat’ed on it, a rhythm that felt like a code, a code established over a long time in a post apocalyptic New York… She had passed off the dream, or what she could remember of it, as a particularly vivid night-time hallucination, yet little bits of it came back to her now and then; crossing a back alley and automatically scanning the area for potentially collapsible walls, the flicker of surprise when certain vending machines were full and functional, and now the series of taps that once (or never) meant ‘friend, uninjured, let me in’.
He was headed North. His face saddened, and she felt the twinge of sorrow she always felt when she thought of what once had been their home, the mansion, the haven, now a ruin even further crumbled and devastated than the land around it. Some had blamed the mutants for the attack, children of the atom, some still so very young, hurt or killed by those who stormed the once strong gates seeking revenge.
She didn’t go to the mansion anymore. It was too distressing. The graves of friends, people unknown, and the ones that she might have recognised were they six feet further up and breathing. It was nice that they were buried, not left out to rot like some of the corpses she had seen, but still the happy memories of the place were outweighed by the loss of so many lives.
She glanced at his face and it seemed that the thought of the mansion was painful to him too. He had lived there, had friends, a lover? She didn’t know what had happened to the catboy he had once been known to hang out with, but there were surely friends of his lost in the collapse or the attacks. She was searching for the words, any words to ease their shared pain, but before she had come up with anything more comforting than ‘at least they aren’t suffering’ in her mind, he made a move and took her bishop. Rats, that had been on the same colour as his king.
“Ah.”
And now her own monarch was in jeopardy, and the useless thing could only move a space at a time. Pity her main defences had been taken down already, but if she moved him one space, then used her last horse to l-jump towards his castle… in a few moves the threat could be eliminated, or she could have lost. Her fingers hadn’t yet left the crown when Cafas spoke again, and his words stirred in her feelings she had been pushing down for a long time. Parents, James, Micah… Alive? Dead? It was pretty much guaranteed that she would never see them again, and it seemed the same for Cafas. Away from their homeland islands, each separated by distance, water and prejudice.
If home is where the heart is, where is the home for the broken hearted?
“Yeah, me too.”
She missed legos with James’ family, and walking her brother to school. Her parents despite their hours were good people, it was unfair that good people died too, not just the higher powers trying to prove some unknown point. Maybe each of their parents were still alive, thinking of their children now with love and half-hope.
“I don’t know. I can’t know. All I do know is that right now, today, I want to live. Who knows about in ten years… maybe we’ll have evolved enough to eat concrete dust… I can only live day-to-day.”
That wasn’t entirely true, she had slightly planned for the short-term future; her food was organised in rationed portions, the scant few seeds she had found were planted in a patch of dirt in what had once been the wrecked car yard and watered the best she could with what she had. Someday she hoped that there might be a tinge of green against the grey and that slowly the peas and beans might sprout. She was optimistic about the popcorn, and hopeful about the apples which she had found strung as a necklace in what was once a peace and well being hippie shop, the ruins of which still smelt of sandalwood incense.
Posted by Verdigris on Jun 28, 2012 20:50:32 GMT -6
Beta Mutant
512
0
May 15, 2013 18:46:44 GMT -6
She was pretty sure she remembered how to play chess, in fact of all the bits and pieces of games she had found since the apocalypse- burned cards missing kings or aces, a broken wooden box with triangles and plastic dots (she knew it wasn’t called badminton, but that was all she could think of when she saw it) puzzles sporting scenes of kittens or masses of flowers- the chess set was in the best condition, and she had played it before, though not extensively. Although her strategy was a little rusty she was confident that she knew the names and movement patterns of each piece. She hadn’t played chess that she could recall since Hawaii with James. She wondered if he had survived the bombs, if her family lived still, or if their house was still standing. Not that it really mattered, even if she had wanted to go back, even if she believed they would recognise her after nearly ten years with no contact, there were no boats that she knew of, no way to get to the islands.
Cafas flipped a coin, a laughable reminder of what used to be able to grant food, shelter, almost anything, and called heads. The game was on and the movement of pieces back and forth was rhythmic and rather soothing. It was nice to just do something with a friend for once, rather than constantly be trying to eke out some form of life from the barren wastes.
“Where are you planning to head out to next?”
The bunker was a shelter, a base that kept her safe in an unsafe world, but she knew the area around it, and the resources there were steadily draining away. If he found somewhere where the quality of life was better, where supplies were in greater stock… it was a flicker of hope. The American dream was no longer about kids, or a yard, or even a stable job. Her American dream was green, something, anything alive, she missed trees and grass and flowers and vegetables, pond scum just didn’t compare, even though the duckweed she had found growing in what had once been an ornamental pool tasted somewhat like lettuce.
Horse moves in Ls. Castles in lines. Take a pawn, loose a pawn. The game was gentle enough that thoughts were able to drift back and forth and conversation was acceptable.
Posted by Verdigris on Jun 27, 2012 7:40:07 GMT -6
Beta Mutant
512
0
May 15, 2013 18:46:44 GMT -6
“Figured you were the man for the job”
She took the girly glasses and tried them on, they fit nicely and she even felt a twinge of classiness, pigeon fingers and all. Pushing them back atop her head she smiled as Cafas squished a piece of metal like tack around the broken bridge. The large glasses seemed to suit the shape of his face, and she suspected even in the olden days when there was choice, they would have been the right glasses for him. She took the bag curiously and listened as he explained where he had found it.
“Eleven secret herbs and spices of goodness?”
Totally awesome, and she had barely used any of the oil, actually, so she was excited to try this recipe on the next bird she got. Fire fuel, it had been a serious issue this winter, and a few times she had just stayed cocooned in the blankets with Jack beside her to keep warm rather than go out to scavenge. She had to work twice as hard to replenish the stores she had wasted on those days, eating to stay warm between trying to gather scraps of wood or even cardboard to burn. She had made an effort, once the weather picked up to find and collect a large enough store so that by the time winter came around again she couldn’t run out if she wanted to. So far she only had a relatively small stack of broken pieces of wood, but she knew where to get some more.
“There used to be a school nearish here, and all their desks were wooden and stuff, so I’ve got it lined up, but I haven’t gone at it with an axe yet. It’s a bit depressing though, ‘cause all the kids...”
There was just something about the tiny skeletons and the shards of blackboard with chalked up ABCs that was tremendously sad. Of course children died in the bombing, and shortly after too, but to see so many little lives cut off at once, somewhere between recess and big break was sobering.
Once the pigeon was little more than bones she set the plate down for Jack to chew on and wiped her fingers on what was once a white tea-towel. Nothing for it but to reveal the secret now, it wasn’t really any good for one person and a dog, and she had been saving it for some time.
“I have something for you, well us really, unless you’re better at soloing than I am.”
She pulled the multi-layered plastic lump out carefully from the bottom shelf of the glass cabinet and placed on Cafas’ lap. Inside, carefully layered so as to not be damaged was a glass chess set, almost intact, one of the queens had been beheaded and sported a rather sharp neck, and a few of the pawns were replaced by wooden ones, plain to be white, charred to be the blacks but on the whole it was rather fancy.
“Well, go on, open it.”
She had tried versing herself when she first found it, or playing as herself and Jack, but there was just nothing quite like a real, intelligent, separate opponent.
Posted by Verdigris on Jun 27, 2012 6:49:26 GMT -6
Beta Mutant
512
0
May 15, 2013 18:46:44 GMT -6
Of course he was hungry, was there anyone anymore who wasn’t constantly hungry? She nodded and stepped into the little kitchenette. The fridge didn’t work, of course, but it was slightly cooler there than in the rest of the room, so that is where she stored any open things or meats, they were usually eaten so quickly (try as she may to ration them) they didn’t have a chance to go off anyway. She removed the plate from the fridge and inspected the carcass, there was more than half left of the skinny bird, ‘plenty’ by the standards of the current day, she also grabbed two of the little bags of crisps and a can. It was feast time. She didn’t bother getting small plates, or cutlery, pigeon is a finger food after all, and Jack would wait patiently until they were done then gnaw the bones for any sustenance they contained. She set the plate down on the counter, then the two bags and the can.
“Would you like to do the honours?”
Cracking the can was like the olden days popping champagne, a symbol of plenty and celebration, by these standards anyway.
Before she got her hands all greasy she slipped aside to the pile of roughly patched blankets that was her bed and dug a plastic container, once upon a time a child’s lunchbox, out from beside the mattress. It was full of bits and pieces for Cafas, or for Cafas to fix. A broken buckle, a bright pink piece of cloth (he might not want that, but it had reminded her of him so she had kept it) other little bits and pieces of metal and, what she was currently most proud of, two pairs of broken sunglasses. The larger pair, aviators she thought they were called had snapped on the bridge across the nose, the smaller pair, a classy ladies set of thin metal was missing an arm, which she had found but not been able to attach. She laid them out on the table.
“Tah dah. Do you think you can fix them?”
Travelling in the heat of summer, with the clouds of dust that left grit in even the squintiest of eyes was not the best of conditions, and having some form of protection, even if it was not in keeping with the rest of the outfit was a distinct advantage. It also meant that if you had to move quickly from light to darkness, your eyes were already semi-adjusted.
She pulled a piece of meat off the bird and popped it into her mouth, chewing slowly and carefully. The flavour was pleasant enough, and if she chewed it for long enough it didn’t seem to stick in her throat quite as much. She had another surprise for her friend, tucked away carefully wrapped in plastic bags, but that could wait until once they were finished eating.
“Do you think there’s anywhere that isn’t so… dead?”
As foolish as it seemed, she stilled hoped that somewhere, there were radiation free pockets, where people still lived in sanity, and there was food that was fresh and wholesome. In the meantime though, it was more important to stay alive and alert, than to dream of the improbable.
Posted by Verdigris on Jun 26, 2012 23:57:59 GMT -6
Beta Mutant
512
0
May 15, 2013 18:46:44 GMT -6
Jack’s ears perking up was her first warning, then the scuffling noises outside the door. She put down her darning silently and her hand closed around the shrapnel in her pocket, the other levelled at the door. Anyone trying that hard to get behind the vehicle knew something was there. She had been diligent at keeping the floor of the shop clear of footprints, both her own and Jacks, no mean feat with the mess of dust and oil that covered the concrete.
The knock set her mind at ease, and she released the glass and other bits and pieces. She didn’t rise though, he had keys and was on his way in, getting up and back down was a waste of energy. If he had been injured there was a different knock he would have used and she would have rushed to let him in and gather the limited medical supplies to stitch him up. Her moderate sewing skills were mostly focused on repair rather than creation, and repair of the body was as up there as repair of equipment, if not more important.
By the time he had made it in through the multitude of locks she was back at the strap, carefully stitching to make the most of the material she had while still making a decent repair job, no point saving the material only to have the repair tear through and need re-re-re-repairing. She glanced up at the bulky form she knew to be Cafas, he was in there somewhere under the layers of protection, storage and bags, and gave him the once over. Everything seemed to be in order, so she relaxed further as he began de-cocooning.
After some time (although not nearly as long as it would have taken if he had had to unbuckle every bag individually) he was down to a more humanoid shape and the size she remembered him being. After a short greeting and petting the slumbering Jack he was sitting by her blinking in the dim light. She continued her sewing, glancing up now and then and crinkling her nose when he explained what he had found. She had been desperate for food, eaten things she wouldn’t have considered even as a street kid, but she had never gone so far as to eat another person, even one she had killed herself. Still, at the mention of having found something (as well as her sewing being finished and the needle and thread removed to inside the glass cabinet) she turned her full attention to her friend. Being a mutant really upped the chances of survival in the post apocalypse world and she suspected his mutation was what allowed him to touch the untouched safe and cabinet.
"A few books, some food, and some bits and pieces."
Books! The ones she had were well worn and dog eared despite her care, there were few ways to stave off the boredom and reading was one of them, it kept the mind active and she was sure it kept you from turning into the savages that roamed now days.
Food was always a necessity, the days of simply going to a fridge, cupboard or even the shops were long gone and almost forgotten, so getting something new was a serious luxury.
As he unloaded his stash her smile grew wider and wider. Marbles to renew her almost depleted stashed of cracked and chipped ones (she had taken to collecting the chips of smashed windscreens to supplement as buckshot she didn’t bother to pick out). The books were a good mix of instructional (including one on home-repairs which she was certain would come in useful) and novels, there was even a hardcover copy of the lord of the rings, which must have been a serious pain to carry considering how heavy it looked, the comics were a splash of luxurious colour and she savoured the covers as he spread them across the bench. Food tins and a tin opener (far more effective than a knife, and less risk of injury) as well as other bits and pieces; a working hinge to repair the broken kitchen cupboard, hair ties and some other things she hadn’t finished looking at before he pulled out the water. Clean, clear, sealed water. Even though the bottles were a little dusty (what wasn’t these days) they were truly beautiful and she drew a smiley face on the bottle closest.
Batteries as well! It was always nice when Cafas came over, but today it was like old Christmas used to be.
“You hungry?”
There was still toasted pigeon from the night before which was actually quite good, although a little dry, and she had found an un-raided vending machine which held an assortment of salty snacks and dusty drinks, after some slight screw-driver work and a few sturdy kicks she had been able to collect a feast of the unhealthy.
