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.
Admittedly, he was startled by the sudden arrival. He wasn't immediately attacking, which was nice of them. Spotting the bow and the blue X, he started to put the pieces together. Rich decided against the banter when he remembered that they were supposed to try and escape right now. The young man immediately nodded went towards him.
"Yes, please, and thank you."
Wrecker mentally made sure to be sincere and friendly to the guy trying to haul his slow, heavy ass out of the fire. How did he even manage do get over here? He had to be a teleporter of some sort. Teleporters cheat. But so did anything with a special ability.
The voice had an excellent point. He shouldn't be punching anything that could put more people in danger. That would be defeating the purpose of the whole hero thing. Not to mention, Rich would likely never forgive himself if he caused the death of another hero or an innocent bystander. But since there was no building coming down, the young man didn't need to worry about that.
As the sound of sirens came across the air, it became more apparent to the hero and to the thugs that a quick escape would be best. The lights started to reflect the arrival of New York's finest. The sirens only grew louder and more obnoxious.
"It was fun fighting with you, mystery arrow person. Catch ya later!"
Rich was not a very quick guy to begin with, so the earlier the escape began the better. There was plenty of evidence and thugs to be taken down by the police. He wasn't worried about getting caught, this time.
He peeked out just in time to catch a glance of the booty arrow. "Ha! Classic." He bellowed to himself. It appeared that there was another that was deciding to help out. While there was no real gurantee that it was a true friendly, Rich would be at least agreeable enough to take care of these thugs. Though, his sense of logic wondered if they were the reason this other character broke their hiding spot. And they seemed to be able to teleport. Nice.
Taking a step back, a hook of a punch knocked some of the concrete at the thugs. Smartly, they stopped shooting and moved as to not get crushed by the rolling rubble. Using it as a distraction, he moves up striking a few more down with his fists, before they try and regroup.
"Whomever you are, please feel free to keep shooting!"
The thugs were whittling down, but they likely needed just a little more to turn the tide.
This was a dance that he was familiar with, but held back no less enjoyment on his face. As a kid he would imagine himself being able to run in on the bad guys and just kick every butt there was because he had boots the fit and a heart that was full of desire to do good. Now, every thug was trying to take him down once they realized what happened. The usual knives and clubs came out first. Rich hated having to buy new shirts all the time. Only so much you can buy on a dishwasher's salary and rent is getting a little high these days. Granted, some of his money troubles were being taken out on these thugs...but that energy has to go somewhere right? Then a knife slipped by his blocks, seeming to go into his back. He shivers a bit, throwing one of the thugs 10 yards away into a concrete block. He turns to rip his shirt a bit from the blade to reveal to the thug that it was now bent. Fortunately, he was jsut distracted enough to receive a quick slap across the face. A slap that sent him to dreamland.
A few more thugs tried their hands just to get themselves some really big boo boos. Then the warehouse door slowly and methodically opened. A row of men with automatic weapon immediately began to fire on him.
"Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow o!" He said trying to get behind something while being pelted with bullets. "Freaking ranged characters!! Kiss my cod piece!"
It was a nice night for a walk. Things had not been very active for him lately. Patrols weren't really turning anything important up besides the standard mugging and such. However, tonight seemed to be extra special as it seems some group of numbskulls think they can trade weapons like pokemon card. Not in his city. Not on his watch. Adjusting his mask, he looked for a prime angle to cause the most amount of havoc. From his little spot on top of a dirt mound, the young man smiled as he knew after all this was over a lot of gang members were going to get wrecked. And then their employer's pockets will wither enough for them to have a crappy week. It would be glorious.
He took a couple of steps back, rubbing his hands together. In his head it was like a boxer hyping himself up before a fight. Because Saturday night is alright for fighting. "No one knows where the macho man is coming from!" Which caused a bit of confusion among the gun runners as this wasn't apart of the festivities. Running towards the top, he leaped off with a helluva battle cry that would make a Viking blush. "OH YEEAAHHHHH!!!!!"
The young man crashed into the ground with a respectable amount of force. He didn't want to set off a box of grenades or something. Though, the landing did crush about 5 boxes of rifles, knocked several gang members from their feet (knocking out a few of them), and one red Voltzwagon Beetle.
He nodded, understanding that his job was now done.
"In that case, be safe. And have a goodnight."
Charger then turned away and began to walk off. It was unlikely she would run into another mob like that. At least not twice in one night. He wished her well.
The tailor's awkwardness and attempts to keep the subject on the suit helped him snap back into the moment. He thought of all the different situations he was in on his daily patrols. They were mostly criminals with melee weapons and small arms. Of course, the day may come when he faces someone with a little extra oomph to their name. Though, being able to withstand something like that would probably cost quite a bit extra.
"A lot of blunt force trauma. I get shot at sometimes, so being resistant to gunfire would be cool. Hot temperatures would be cool. I sometimes need to bust through walls to get things done. So really not too much outside the standard hero stuff."
The young man shrugged, hoping he had material able to withstand that. Even a little Kevlar would be helpful. He watched as the man took the rest of the measurements and continued their work, curious as to what they had in mind. Creatives were always fun to watch work.
Admittedly, the answer seemed obvious. He had a mask and was trying to keep someone safe. Is that was what all vigilantes did?
"Protecting wildlife tonight, I suppose. Is your home very far from here? Would you like an escort? I mean, you are just as likely to get jumped as a wild animal as you are a barely dressed hot chick. Perhaps more so, unfortunately."
He shrugged, but his offer was legitimate. The young man wanted to make sure she got home safe.
She was a shifter. A metahuman. Mutant. Whatever the case, he nodded, trying to figure on the next move. She only had a jacket on, and they were just hanging out in an alley. His first thought was to offer to walk her home, but it likely would not solve anything. The young man was curious as to how this even came out. "What are you doing out here? Where are your clothes?"
The tailor seemed to be sending mixed signals. The wince suggest that he either had a been experience with them, or he didn't like the question. Rich found that to be fair, as the inquiry wasn't exactly subtle or really even that smart to be asking. While he wasn't entirely sure this guy was being up front, he understood why he might not be. Rich would also leave it at that, since he wanted to be nice.
"Fair enough. It's not like they broadcast that stuff, even to mutants, it seems."
The young man shrugged and thought a little about the next question. It wasn't something easy, like a favorite color or best vacation spot. It was to see what his thinking was. His origin story. Or at least the reasoning. His thoughts briefly returned to how he first found out of his powers, as the sounds of tires screeched in his mind. It wasn't pretty. He looked down at his shoes, trying to weave his way back into the present. It took a second but he got there and returned the gaze to Javier.
"You ever feel...like deep within your soul that you had to do something with your life? And not just because you were good at it? Or had skill just handed to you essentially? But because you feel like life would be wasted if you didn't take a certain path?"
His expression was a vulnerable one, but had a splash of passion to it. All the while, he did the best he could to not be a pain to the tailor for doing his job.
"I'd be a waste if I didn't use what I can do to make the world a better place. Sure, I can say it is the right thing to do. While it is, it wouldn't be my entire answer. Not truthfully. My abilities came at the great personal cost that can never been given back. Not using them...means the cost didn't matter. Which would be a lie."
Now it was just them. A goofy vigilante standing in the alleyway with a wild animal. While he wasn't an expert, Rich did assume that he should be careful. No sudden movements. Basic television knowledge.
"Alright, kitty. I am going to just call for some help. I am not going to hurt you."
He reached into his pocket to pull out his cell and started to call 911. His blue eyes fixed on the kitty.
"Aww." He said, boyishly as it turned out blue was not as good of an option as he hoped. The tailor had a good point there. Though, if he were to ask, he would want to be X-Men. And wearing it might even have the real X-Men contact him. They would ask him to likely tone down the blue, and he would ask for a job application instead. In his ideal world it worked.
"Though, I don't know my numbers off the top of my head. It might be more accurate if you use the the tape measure thingy since I would rather not give you incorrect numbers. Speaking of the X-Men, you wouldn't....happen to have like a phone number or something for them would you?"
He. Got. Her. Number. HOT DAMN! "Of course, Rebecca. Be safe out there, and I'll contact you soon." He gave her one last smile before she took her leave. Nice girl. Definitely glad he bumped into her. Their waitress moved to take the last of the used dishes as Rich made to take a leave of his own. He just stared at his phone for a moment before putting it away. It was time to head out and not take out a table at this establishment.
However, before he could stand another man spoke to him. A probable pretty boy supermodel type. But he wasn't going to judge this man too harshly. Even if his statements gave it away that he was eavesdropping. He raised an eyebrow, but softened his expression. At least he was rooting for him. Rich would never turn away someone wanting to be in his corner. Especially if they sounded local. New Yorkers have to stick together.
"Rich. And honestly, I am not sure. She seems very nice, but I was just trying to make a connection after we literally bumped into each other in the park. The soup I had went everywhere, which is where the whole thing came from. Happenstance, really. Much like this."
He chuckled before standing up and making sure he had his wallet, cellphone, etc.
"Either way, I guess I am glad to have made your dinner a little better. I'm heading out. Feel free to tag along, if you need to, but I should be getting back."
He thought for minute, wondering how he can explain his mutation. Rich decided to stick to the topic, as details may not help the tailor any.
"My DNA is an mix of metallic and organic properties. I don't change size or shape. I don't even change forms. This is what I got. No off button to speak of. Just sturdy as can be. Pretty much all in on strength and defense."
His arms lifted slightly, with a shrug, before slipping them back in his pockets
"Oh and blue please. Kind of my favorite color. But red, black, or dark green is fine as well. Since colors are a thing." He said, with a smile.
Without another word, the thugs decided to charge them. They were in some kind of rush to get their prey, which they thought now included a masked bystander. Swinging wildly, they moved upon them with malicious intent. Charger lost focus on the cat, but knew that if only two men went for him that the other two must have been after her. One swing and miss from the first man and his steel chain. The next was a baseball bat, which end up grazing his arm. He was as clumsy as Rich was. All he had to do was stick his foot out the thug tripped into the wall. While that was funny, they were now on either side of him. Rich was not a particularly fast opponent and mobility was often a reliability. What he did have was strength and defense. And a mouth.
"Guys, I'm a big chunky target and you both still managed to miss me? You guys a terrible. Go home."
This drew ire from the both of them. Good. They converged on him, swinging to kill. Unfortunately, they were playing right into his hands. Close quarters was Rich's favorite kind of melee. The bat man reached him first, only to find that this masked vigilante was a metahuman. He realized this when the wooden baseball bat cracked open over the young man's head. A couple shards of wood burst and flung across the alleyway. Chaingang went for a swing of his own, only to be met with face full of cedar and then a torso full of boot. The force shoved him back, slamming him into a dumpster.
When Rich turned back, The Bat Man was just looking at his bat in horror. Realizing what was going on, his face turned white as he looked into the vigilante's blue eyes. He decided to get a little fancy. Forward knife chop to his shoulder, causing him to drop what was left of his weapon. A punch to the gut, making the thug bend over. Throwing his arm overhead, Rich brought a little professional wrestling into a street fight. Lifting him up, he fell back with the thugs body in tow. Both of them slammed into the pavement, leaving the jerk down for the count.
Standing back up, he tried to find the cat in the dark.
