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.
Suddenly a young woman approached, who looked...quite out of place here, honestly. Before she could make it to Blaine, Joe was standing in front of him. "I don't know what your angle is, girlie, but this ain't no place for the likes of you. Especially if you're the one who sabotaged my boy's fight, here."
Blaine chuckled. "Your boy? I'm older than you, bro. Look...she's drunk. I mean, I'm pretty sure the smell of booze on her is what woke me up. You go on home, and I'll babysit."
"Babysit? Who's gonna babysit you?" he teased before handing Blaine his jacket and walking off.
"You don't have to worry about reimbursement," Blaine said dryly. "Between me and Joe, we probably lost about...twelve hundred? But you better stay with me, anyway. At least for a while. This ain't the time or the place to be running around alone and drunk," he replied.
"Yeah, let's go with that," he replied, though maybe not loud enough for her to hear. Once he finished his face, he tossed the shirt in the trash and went to clean up the blood that had spattered on the floor--after all, he didn't want management getting mad at him. Again...
Looking up once he'd finished, he saw the stranger still attempting to go to work on the bag. Something looked...off about it, but he watched her form; it looked as if she wasn't comfortable.
After a few moments, he walked over to her. "Hey, uh, if you don't mind me saying, you seem a little...uncomfortable there. A big part of striking is confidence. Feel it in your soul. Strike quick, then move back, ready to do it again. Pretend the bag's an ex-boyfriend, if you have to. Or that annoying guy who just walked up and started telling you how to do it," he gave a light chuckle, but he stood back, arms folded across his chest. He sort of wanted to return the favor for helping him, and honestly, this was the only way he knew how.
"I gotta give it to him, that was pretty ballsy. Though it was probably just the booze and adrenaline that gave him the idea, so he loses a little credit for that one," he spoke in such a tone that would make it hard to tell if he was being serious or not; especially for only having known the guy for a week.
"Damn. Woulda been cooler if it had been the whole bottleneck sticking out..." he half-grumbled. "Experience isn't always bad. Especially not with me working for you. I...tend to attract this kind of thing, to be honest with ya. I guess people realize I don't seem to feel, and they decide to push their luck." He gave a light shrug; just enough to not mess her up while she was working on him.
Blaine gave a dry chuckle. "That's easier said than done," he gently reminded her. After all, to him a gentle caress and a shove were practically the same thing. He heard as she cut his shirt, guessing that was basically the only way while he was applying pressure--or attempting to anyway.
"I'll give him points for creativity, anyway," he remarked with another dry chuckle. "Was it the whole rest of the bottle or just a piece of glass?" he asked; for some reason this kind of thing amused him. Then again, he'd had a lot of crazy injury stories that had been piling up since he was twelve. It was always fun to add one more to the pile, even if most people were too squeamish to hear them.
"No stitches is good, though I haven't seen Marge at the clinic in a little while," he commented with a slight smirk. "Yeah, I'm on a first-name basis with the people where I usually go for the serious stuff," he said it light-heartedly, but he had to admit, even with the humor tacked on....it was kinda dark.
He watched as she came back with cloths, water, and a first aid kit. At this point he couldn't tell if she knew what she was doing or if she was just covering her bases. Either way, it really didn't bother him; after all, what was she going to do, hurt him? That'd be a first.
"I don't mind, just put it where it needs to go," he replied politely, taking the cloth in hand. He'd done this before, but most of the time it just involved guesswork. Then, the thought occurred to him.
"How bad did he get me?" he asked. "I mean, I heard glass break, but this sounds a little worse than a beer bottle to the head." He really was curious; after all, people telling him these things were really the only way he could make a story out of it.
It was hard to hurry when he really couldn't tell what was wrong, but her tone persuaded him to walk briskly. Haven't done this before? Great, he was the first. Not that he was surprised; for some reason, Blaine figured he tended to attract this sort of thing. He grabbed the chair, carrying it in one hand as he made his way to the office.
Once there, he set it on the floor, facing the door, and sat in it backwards as instructed. He sort of let out a sigh as he wished there was a mirror or something he could use to see the damage. But then again, if he had seen the damage at this point, he probably would have thought the guy who did it deserved more than he'd gotten.
So, in silence, Blaine just sat and waited. The sound of the bar was muffled back here, so he listened for Lee's footsteps as he closed his eyes in thought.
Blaine blinked when he turned around and Lee was there; he had to admit she was pretty quick. Though he wasn't sure why she was there. After all, he got the guys out with little to no resistance--and then she spoke. He noted the urgency in her voice, and learned to recognize what that urgency meant a long time ago. It seemed people were the same in that regard; it was fairly easy to tell by their reactions when he was bleeding.
"****, I am?" he asked, but not without making his way towards the back. "How bad is it, do you think?" he asked, still not realizing he had a bottle in his back.
"So where do you normally handle this sort of thing?" he asked, figuring that he'd probably end up seeing whatever area that was an awful lot as time went on. He was always catching bottles he head, barstools to the face, the stray fist to the ear...But he was able to handle more than average, and after time went on, people at his other bars tended to learn better.
Blaine took a spot against the wall, arms folded as he let his eyes scan the area. Every so often he'd change vantage points; it had only been a week or so, so he was still learning the best places to catch any action from. Not that there was any. Mostly, the most action would be when Lee would walk out to check on things, and presumably see how he was holding up.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw some trouble. Two guys by the dance floor wanting to shove each other. In a flash, he'd pushed himself off of the wall and briskly made his way across the bar, as usual unknowingly bumping into people as he walked. Once he reached the troublemakers, he put himself between them, placing one hand firmly on each of their shoulders.
"Alright, boys. You wanna fight, you can't do it here," he replied, beginning to urge them both towards the door. "Maybe next time you drop by, you can play nice." One guy went willingly, but the other was requiring a little more effort as he edged them both through the crowd towards the bar's exit.
Once to the door, he heard glass break, and had a good idea what had happened, so he grabbed the resister by the arm, and twisted, escorting him to the door as the other guy ran out on his own. Then, he just nonchalantly tossed the guy out, and turned to return to his post.
What he didn't notice, was the gash on the back of his head. Or the piece of broken bottle sticking out of his back where he'd been stabbed with it.
He started to approach, but stopped when she put her hand up; he recognized that symbol. He blinked; Blaine had no idea what an adapted was, but from the way she was talking, and how things had happened, he had a pretty good idea of what it meant.
"I have no idea what that is, but correct me if I'm wrong. You can....make people's mutations not work? And the word 'aura' tells me you can't turn it off, right?" He looked at her from a distance, thinking over things, but actually kind of enjoying his inability to feel at the moment. Pain was definitely something he didn't want to be reacquainted with anytime soon.
The crowd started to thin, and Joe had dragged Blaine off to a corner to fan him. After a few moments, his eyes opened and he came to.
"****, Blainey, you got your ass kicked back there bro! What the hell happened?" Blaine stood to his feet, shaking his head; he was looking more than a little disgruntled at his loss, but he was glad he couldn't feel.
"There was some...chick in my head. Psychic or some ****. Distracted me. I don't know if it was a mistake like she claimed or if she was trying to sabotage me." He lifted his arms, revealing his scarred and tattooed torso. "Bone check."
Joe walked around, rubbing his bald head as he looked Blaine over. "Nothing's sticking out, man, but you got one hell of a shiner."
"Yeah, I figured; that punch pushed me back a bit. But I gotta visit Marge at the clinic later. I heard something crack that I'm pretty sure was a rib."
"Yeah, but you sit right there and get your wind back first. Not gonna have your ass passing out on me again."
"Fair enough, Jo-Jo," he said with a small sigh as he leaned back against a barricade.
And just as instantly as it happened...he was numb again. He hopped rather nimbly to his feet, scratching his head and noting she'd moved away.
This was...weird, and he was just so confused. He looked at her, but didn't move from his spot. "Much better, " he called out. "But I still wonder what the hell happened. " Out of habit, he stuck his hands in his jacket pockets, still as confused as ever.
He opened his eyes to look at her. "I'm...mutant. I don't feel....anything...physical. Haven't in over twenty years..." He paused,letting out another groan as he moved to a sitting position.
"...Something's....wrong...cracked a rib last night...got it doctored but...****... " He bit his lip.
Scared and confused was right. He could feel the bandages wrapped around his midsection; it seemed to make his breath even harder. But now there was someone next to him, and it made him feel better. Emotionally, anyway.
He was still pale and shaking, sweat pouring from his brow. You know, real tough guy.
"I...feel....I'm...not...supposed to...feel... " he panted. "But...I can feel...everything... and...I don't know....why....****..." He closed his eyes, just trying to focus on the good sensations. The wind, his hands against his face. The hair on his skin. Anything but the overwhelming pain...
He gave a nod as he pocketed his change, a couple of coins dropping to the floor in the process. He could do alright managing one hand-sized thing at a time, but sometimes things got tricky with items like coins. "Understandable. I can't do either of those things," he answered before kneeling to pick up the coins, carefully eyeing each one, then slowly and meticulously putting it between his fingers and sliding it into his pocket. It was almost like watching a crane machine, but he got both coins in his pocket before standing to his feet.
"Coins always give me trouble," he explained with a small laugh. "I'll see you tomorrow, then." With a slight wave, he turned and headed out the door. Well, that was much easier than he'd thought.
Blaine was somewhat lost in thought, thinking on the odd events that had taken place at his fight the night before, the loss still weighing heavy on his mind. Suddenly, someone brushed by him, and he stopped and turned. "Oh it's quite alri-- Wait...he felt...he felt her brush him. And that....was that...wind? His hair brushing against his cheek? The chill of the December air on his face. His clothes brushing against his--
Suddenly his entire body jerked as he let out a scream not unlike that of a wounded bear. His face hurt, his head was pounding, and it hurt to move his arms; he felt it right in the pit of his chest. His heart was racing, and he could feel it pounding inside of his chest. Every breath was sharp. Everything hurt as he dropped to his knees, gasping for breath. Even the bruise on his face seemed to have a pulse as he shook, kneeling right there on the sidewalk with his hands on his head as he groaned.
"What....the....hell...." he gasped, and most people just walked around him. He wanted to just curl up, but he figured that would hurt too. "I...I felt a breeze..." he murmured with a slight smile. "But OH MY **** GOD WHAT THE **** IS HAPPENING TO ME?!?"
