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 Locke N. Tori on Apr 19, 2010 10:34:04 GMT -6
Beta Mutant
566
2
Jul 29, 2017 19:08:13 GMT -6
When the medium entered the back room Locke's head was turned downwards, looking up at his dad from behind his hair. He did not want Tarin to see the expression on his face, even if he had borne witness to the melt down earlier. Not that Locke felt that he could look Tarin in the eyes. The man broke him down, challenged his beliefs, proved him wrong, and also had the decency and compassion to let Locke have his father to himself. Locke might never know how big a sacrafice that might have been to Tarin, but he had to know what he'd given to Locke. Unable to trust his voice the Californian simply nodded his head. Something about his body poistion would suggest that he was not entirely ready for this to end. With all the grace of a fish on land Locke untangled his sleeping legs from underneath him. Criss-cross-applesauce is a fine way to sit when you are young and still in grade school. Not so much as you get older.
"Thank you," Hugo said for the two of them, knowing the reason why his son hid his face. Locke stood there feeling more than the usual amount of awkward. A part of him wanted to hug his dad, but he did not dare risk it. Why ruin what just happened with hugging a visual? If nothing else Locke could claim the usual teenage cause that hugging your parents after age ten was, to say the least, embarrassing. Which left Locke having to figure out what to do to Tarin. A handshake was too stiff and formal given what the two had experienced, and a hug was too close and personal for Locke. He didn't do man hugs. The only kind was the family sort. Giving Tarin a hug felt a bit like betrayal since he couldn't hug his dad, who was right in the room with them.
It seemed like forever since he had ducked into the store, trying to escape his bum luck and the storm. He had forgotten entirely about it until Tarin mentioned it. Even his clothes had dried off some. Fingers shaking Locke reached into his pocket and pulled out a film canister. The sound the lid made when it popped off was entirely too loud and too out of place, but it broke the silence of the room.
Posted by Locke N. Tori on Apr 16, 2010 18:21:46 GMT -6
Beta Mutant
566
2
Jul 29, 2017 19:08:13 GMT -6
Ok, that did not go according to plan. No golem had formed, not even a hand or a lump. All Locke had done really was make a large and rather pointy mess. The noise had been loud enough to draw attention to the awkward teen, and he more than expected to be shot as soon as he stopped rolling. For some reason he was still alive and being told to shut his eyes from the man he'd chased into the building. Locke was still dazed from his first experiment with glass, and barely registered the statement. He did so, and jumped at the unusual and moist sound. It was vaguely similar to noises from his favorite movies. Despite being an atheist, Locke called on a deity, convinced that the noise was coming from him.
Nothing was hurting to the extremity that such a noise would produce, and he uncurled himself, feeling somebody drop. A dry heave went through Locke at the sight. Movies was one thing, reality another. He was stubborn though and refused to throw up now."What do you mean, I've been covering your butt because you're too reckless." Locke shot when he was sure his stomach was settled. "Locke," he answered, standing on shaky legs, and brushed off the small bits of glass that he had rolled over and had decided to stick to him. On the whole he wasn't in too bad of shape. His palms had gotten scrapped up from the fall, and his outermost shirt had a rip in it. "You know the killing and the crowbar don't exactly say good guy."
He was being questioned if he could work with the floor. Marble. Nice.[/color] Well if it was indeed marble then it was a type of stone. Experimentally Locke crouched down and brushed his fingers on it. "Maybe parts. Marble doesn't have a definite hardness. Parts of it feels workable. This doesn't feel like it all comes from the same place."
Posted by Locke N. Tori on Apr 16, 2010 17:17:58 GMT -6
Beta Mutant
566
2
Jul 29, 2017 19:08:13 GMT -6
Score! Brothers and sisters were a safe ground, as long as Locke stayed clear from landmines such as why he was doing most of the child raising, and any other things that might have happened with Twyla. No wonder gossip is so popular. It is easier sometimes to talk about others than to talk about yourself. That was what the problem had been with laundry and music. One topic was entirely too impersonal to hold any interest to both parties, while the other could be an indication of your persona. Siblings had a mix of the two. "They're five and can be a riot," Locke zoomed the mouse about the screen, opening a folder to pictures of his little sibs. The first picture that popped up had two blurs of color and smiles. Someone had snapped a picture of kids in play-motion, running and leaping through a sprinkler on a rare cloud free day. "Riot meaning both funny and disastrous." Next up was them looking in two different directions, both having been distracted when he took the picture. Chris and Mai looked more like their mother then they did their father, and therefor Locke. The hair color was about the same, Locke's a touch darker, and the nose shape was right for Mai, but Chris had the eyes.
For some reason Twyla blushed when she talked about her own family, prompting a similar reaction from Locke. Some people will start laughing at the sound of another's laugh. When you spotted someone yawning you yawned as well. Locke, well, he turned red when others turned pink. It was as if his body was programed to react that way whenever anyone felt the slightest bit uneasy. He did the math. "There's six of you? I mean it's not like you're part of that Dugger family or something, not that there's anything wrong with them but whoa.. I thought it was crowded with just us three."
Posted by Locke N. Tori on Apr 16, 2010 16:54:28 GMT -6
Beta Mutant
566
2
Jul 29, 2017 19:08:13 GMT -6
"I'm pretty sure that this is not ok," Locke told Chris, "This thing weighs more then my laptop and I just beamed you in the gut with it, and all you did was walk by at the wrong time. Just let me take the blame for it ok?" This was so weird. Usually if you hit a guy with a heavy science book they will at least go oww and ask you what was your problem. Locke got the feeling that he could even go so far as to accuse this kid of getting in his way, try to pin the blame on him, and he'd let it happen. He took the time to study the fish boy as he straightened up, trying hard not to look like he was staring. Turning his head away probably would be just as embarrassing. The Californian hated when people stared at him, and he bet that the guy felt the same way. No doubt about it the kid felt as awkward as he did.
"I knew it," he said, taking Chris's hand and shaking it. Do not wipe your hand on your jeans. You don't want to offend him."My name's Locke. We're in the same math class. How'd you do on that last quiz? I got a C. New high score for me." It was more then he usually spoke, but Locke knew what isolation could be like. Just because he prefered it did not mean that Chris felt the same way.
"Oh, yeah... that..." Locke replied hesitantly when Chris asked him why he had thrown the book. "Let's just say that I do about as well in my sciences as I do with math. Sucks that the two are connected."
Posted by Locke N. Tori on Apr 14, 2010 23:31:26 GMT -6
Beta Mutant
566
2
Jul 29, 2017 19:08:13 GMT -6
Locke squirmed on his seat. Why wasn’t she talking now? Did Eaan decide that he was going to have to be social and get a hold of this girl? He could not leave the room, and she was not going to. Why should they have to talk? People do not need to have conversation every time that they are with someone. In a library you don’t turn to the person beside you and ask them what they do for a living. As the Madagascan Tree Frog song came to an end Locke felt at a loss for what to say next. He’d talked about playing the bass, he talked about how anyone can sing, though looking back maybe he should have clarified anyone can try to sing. The Californian scrolled through the extensive play list and clicked on Overkill. Colin Haye’s song was the first thing he heard at night. A fairly accurate description of his life.
I can’t get to sleep
“I didn’t know who it was, let alone the song when I first heard it. It was just one of those songs that they play on Scrubs,” he explained, starting to scroll again. At last Twyla decided to speak up and say something. She talked about dancing which was a bit of a foreign topic. Still it connected to the music idea. “You danced? Cool. I just can do The Wiggles stuff,” Locke blushed, “One to many children’s shows.”
Explain yourself dweeb before you come across as a pedophile. “I have a little brother and sister, and I know they say that you shouldn’t let TV raise them. I try not to let them watch too much stuff, but sometimes I need them distracted.”
Posted by Locke N. Tori on Apr 14, 2010 22:23:45 GMT -6
Beta Mutant
566
2
Jul 29, 2017 19:08:13 GMT -6
Locke. Can you hear me?
”Yes?” Locke asked, timid. How could be sure that the voice he was hearing actually belonged to the real Ms. Csendes. So much of what he had encountered thus far in the Danger Room had been a fabrication, from the scuttling noise, to his current location. If it was just the Cthulu making the voice Locke did not particularly wish to respond to it. They had to end this soon before he truly lost his mind. As was he was not entirely sure that he was sane. His earth sense had never been wrong before. When it told him someone was behind him there was indeed someone there. Yes it was not perfect, but as long as they had made contact with the ground he’d get some notion of a presence. But the tentacle had not given him any warning. Locke couldn’t even feel himself.
An enraged growl escaped from the teen as he pounded once more against where he thought that the wall was. It was not only his hands that slammed, but his mind as well, stretching out as far as possible. His mind was like a net being cast out for fish, but nothing was getting caught. Panic was taking over, Locke was getting devoured by the silence and the dark. The pounding against the wall increased in frenzy. ”I’m here, I’m here.”
The eyes simply blinked at him. Hundreds of eyes all blinking in unison slowly made a frightful noise. The would be wall gave way underneath him and Locke tumbled forwards. His hand touched something that felt like concrete. Was he safe?
Posted by Locke N. Tori on Apr 14, 2010 11:11:59 GMT -6
Beta Mutant
566
2
Jul 29, 2017 19:08:13 GMT -6
”Ohh..” Locke started, lunging out of his seat. The book had gotten a good head start on him, and was turning awkwardly about as it made a direct path to someone across the room. He should have paused before tossing the stupid thing. Nothing good ever happened when Locke let his temper loose. And he shouldn’t be throwing things period. A distinct lack of depth perception gave him horrible aim. Even if he had taken the time to aim his projectile science at something that couldn’t get hurt, like a wall or a bookshelf, chances were that he’d end up hitting something else anyways. The book made contact with someone, who for a better term, looked different. “I’m so sorry,” he apologized, bending over to pick up the book, “I wasn’t looking and I clearly I wasn’t thinking. You aren’t hurt are you?”
He could pull out his hair. How often did he have to tell his little brother and sister not to throw things, and here he was having a tantrum worse then any they had thrown. It was the kind of behavior that would result in a time-out. Granted time-outs had lost their power over Locke when his dad realized that he actually liked getting the chance to sit down and be by himself. He looked up from the ground at who he hit. The poor soul looked terrified of him, and for good reason. Having someone toss a concussion inducing book at your gut usually leaves you shaken. There was something familiar about the guy. Something about the way he put pressure on the ground. ”You’re in some of my classes aren’t you?”
Posted by Locke N. Tori on Apr 13, 2010 23:02:30 GMT -6
Beta Mutant
566
2
Jul 29, 2017 19:08:13 GMT -6
Great. Twyla’s suppose to keep this conversation going and now she’s being as talkative as me. That means I have to talk more.[/i] Locke deflated slightly. He was a much better listener then talker, and you cannot have a conversation with just ears. Time to find something else about music to talk about. ”The bass isn’t all that hard. Unless you’re trying to play The Who. It’s more like playing a guitar with some of their songs. At least there’s less strings to have to dance around,” Ok, this was turning out pretty well. Now that he thought about it Locke really did like the bass. It just had been so long since he had really done anything with it . “Playing the bass is like feeling your heartbeat. You feel it right here,” he paused, tapping his the middle of his chest, just a bit below the collarbone, ”But you also can feel the notes. I know it sounds weird, but really, you can feel the difference between an e and a g. That’s probably how a deaf person feels if they go to a concert.”
He had to stop for now. Locke wasn’t use to so much talking, and his jaw was hurting a bit from it. That was the biggest ramble he’d gone on in years. Maybe Twyla was not musically inclined, but at least he gave her food for thought. Bass was, in Locke’s opinion, an easy instrument to learn. Triangle was easier of course, but in Eddie Izzard’s words “Just go ting, with your mouth, ting”. ”If you wanted to learn an instrument go for that. And anyone can sing. Bob Dylan made it big and he sounds like a toad.” Granted Locke sounded almost toadish in just his normal talking voice. Which made listening to the Madagascan Tree Frog song all the more hilarious to listen to. His voice use to be so squeaky.
Posted by Locke N. Tori on Apr 13, 2010 9:44:43 GMT -6
Beta Mutant
566
2
Jul 29, 2017 19:08:13 GMT -6
"Uh" For some reason Locke had not been prepared for Twyla to question about him and his friend. The song of theirs that was on his laptop was by no means good music. At the age of eleven when you decide to make a band with you buddy a year younger then you there is a certain level of suckitude that must be factored in. Sure they got better over the years, but that band had decreased its sights to an occasional get together of friends fiddling around. "I played bass a little, sang a little, but it was all Eaan's show really. The song I got on there is just one of those pre-teen soda and pixie stix collisions and proof that it's better for me to write the lyrics then the music."
He wasn't embarrassed by the song by any means. Mostly he kept the song around for the memories. In fact Locke even started it up. Two boys, one who's voice was just starting to crack started singing about Madagascan tree frogs and how they are not your friend. Laughter took turns interrupting the singers, at one point the cracking voice trying to scold Locke for laughing, but ending up in a fit of giggles. "Like I said, it was mostly my friends show. The lyrics might be what draws people to a band, and they might say, 'Oh they wrote that just for me', but in the end, it's the singer and the ability to play an instrument that keeps them there."
Posted by Locke N. Tori on Apr 12, 2010 20:50:14 GMT -6
Beta Mutant
566
2
Jul 29, 2017 19:08:13 GMT -6
The theatrical props that Tarin brushed off had the reverse effect on Locke than the shop owner actually intended. It was just so.. cliché, and to Locke seemed to scream “I’m trying to hard!” People might expect it, but for him it would be more convincing for there to be nothing there. A crystal ball, fancy curtains… all could be a distraction, smoke and mirrors. Getting it out of the way put Locke a bit more at ease and helped a little with the pit in his stomach that happened upon seeing all the cheese. Locke still was not entirely sure that Tarin could bring his dad back. He also wasn’t sure that his dad would want to see him.
He could care less about what happened with Tarin’s eyes. After all the kid had one dead eye that he had to look at every day. What could Tarin’s do that would bother him? Not that it made much of a difference. The Californian just wanted him to get started. This waiting and explanation was just torture. And yet he could not help but be afraid. Ghosts and spirits can’t possibly be real. If they weren’t then his dad could not show up, even if he wanted to. If they were, and his dad did show, what would Locke say? It’s one thing to think of things to say, and questions to ask when you’re on your own, an entirely different thing when the person you miss the most is right in front of you.
It was like watching a three dimensional photograph being photographed right before his eyes. Air had to be getting into his lungs, because the pain from earlier wasn’t there, but Locke couldn’t feel it. He could not feel most things that were just normal human body functions. Did he blink? Was he wobbling when where he stood? Locke’s insides were being hollowed out until he was just a shell, a jack-o-lantern with a flickering candle. His jaw wibbled.
“I missed ya Bug,” his dad finally said. Locke’s lips split into smile that he hadn’t been able to reach for five years. His middle name sucked, and the nickname made absolutely no sense. A bug is hardly welcomed, especially if you are a doctor, or if you work with computers. But even being called a pest can be the greatest thing in the world when you’re called it by someone you love. Bug, to Locke, meant that even after death, his Dad still remembered him, still loved him. “How did you get so tall?”
“Tarin?” Locke croaked. This had been more then he could ask for. He had no idea how long he had just spent with his dad, but it had to stop for now. Otherwise he’d never want to leave that back room.
Posted by Locke N. Tori on Apr 11, 2010 20:49:40 GMT -6
Beta Mutant
566
2
Jul 29, 2017 19:08:13 GMT -6
A soft groan from the ground, a little rippling in the mud. The tension was so high. His mouth had become well suited to holding in words and secrets, his face had settled into a stoic, and at times apathetic, expression so often his jaw did not hurt if he frowned. Pretending that everything was fine with him, that he was ok when he really wasn't, had gotten easier then dealing with anything. Locke might scorn Kendra for acting as if he was not a mutant, but he was hardly any better. Words were forming on his tongue. Individual sounds melting and solidifying into letters, and letters into words. He just had to get it out of his mouth.
Locke placed the soda down on the ground, looking at Tarin intently. Worn out high tops bordered the battered backpack and half-drunk coke. He didn't even realize that he had drunk that much. Locke had to respect Tarin. The guy knew a lot. Did all this extra knowledge come from the almost death of his wife? After all the teen and the adult had so much in common, but Locke did not know, or even believe half of what Tarin did. The explanations Tarin gave at first made no sense. It was all vague and non-commital. What did matter was that Tarin said he could be selfish.
Posted by Locke N. Tori on Apr 11, 2010 20:13:07 GMT -6
Beta Mutant
566
2
Jul 29, 2017 19:08:13 GMT -6
A nervy laugh, maybe a good sign. At least Locke accepted that something had told Tarin that information. "I hate that name," he said, hesitating to breath even. Was it smart for him to ask Tarin to give him what he wanted? Locke had been questioning his judgment ever since the train pulled into New York City. Well, maybe longer than that. Part of his longing was that he still needed his dad's guidance. He was only sixteen after all, not sixty like everyone back in San Francisco liked to joke.
But even if it was smart, could he ask for it? The request wasn't officially said yet, only vaguely suggested, and already he was getting a hint of what happened earlier. His throat was clenching up on him. To ask Tarin to do it would be to admit that maybe there was something that goes on after death. Could he handle having his beliefs turned on their ear? As much as Locke hated to be wrong, in this situation finding out he was right would be worse. Someone very wise once said that all hope is false. It means to want something that you cannot reach by yourself, and it is also foolish to think that someone else might bring it to you. After all if someone can make you happy they can also make you unhappy.
"Is it even ok to ask that?" he asked. Locke did not mean if it would be alright with Tarin. Clearly the guy depended on people asking him to raise the spirits or whatever mumbo jumbo goes on in a place like this. It wasn't even a question of Tarin's ethics. Locke wanted to know if it was alright to get something he wanted. After all, he had been selfish in taking this vacation in some ways.
Posted by Locke N. Tori on Apr 11, 2010 18:31:22 GMT -6
Beta Mutant
566
2
Jul 29, 2017 19:08:13 GMT -6
”Yeah well, I’ve got a few years before they might need to get pulled. Some people have them grow in just fine,” A strangely optimistic remark from the realist, but Locke wasn’t such a sucker for torment that he wanted to have teeth yanked out of his mouth when they hadn’t even broken through the gum lines yet. Dental work was highly violent when you think about it. The issue was not really Locke’s wisdom teeth and the future of them. It was a little distraction from the topic the two were approaching. Locke had both the power and the option to not push the matter, and the same thing could be said of Tarin. In a way it was like a train wreck. Something big and terrible was going to happen, but Locke could not turn away from it. A part of him actually wanted this conversation to continue. He was getting tired of carrying this weight on his back. Days could pass in which he was busy and Locke would hardly notice the burden he had. Slowing down made the weight’s presence known. Who knows, maybe splitting the load would make the yoke lighter.
”How can you be sure I end up the same place Dad did?” Locke asked Tarin, ”De..Dead is dead and there’s no coming back from that.” It was the first time Locke had actually used the word dead in direct relation to his father. Euphuisms, if anything, was used to talk about the state of his dad, because using them kept the pain of the word out. It also kept the twins from feeling his sorrow.
“His middle name is Nicodimus,” Hugo told Tarin, “He keeps his money in a film roll in his pocket. He’s not going to believe anything you say. What he sees though…” For a spirit Hugo was looking pretty lively. After all it isn't just those that are left behind that are lonely. "What are you going to do? Use one of those Ouija board things? Flip a deck of cards? Stare at my palm?"
Posted by Locke N. Tori on Apr 11, 2010 16:04:35 GMT -6
Beta Mutant
566
2
Jul 29, 2017 19:08:13 GMT -6
Wisconsin. Well that was more of an open field then laundry, and hopefully more interesting. What could he talk about relating to Wisconsin? He had never actually visited the state. He knew that there were cows there, and that the NFL team was the Packers, with the fans called Cheeseheads. It was not much that he could talk about, just as she probably couldn’t think of much to say about California. If nothing else was brought up though he’d do his best with the cows and football teams. Thankfully she brought up music. Locke could have slapped himself for not thinking about music. Music was life according to his best friend. Everyone listened to music. A bird’s whistle is a form of communication.
He turned his laptop about so she could see just how long his playlist was. Twyla did not need to know he had it so long to fight off the darkness and silence of night. ”Most of the Beatles albums. A couple of songs my friend’s dad wrote. He’s pretty popular locally. Colin Hay, Nickleback, some random TV show opening themes, soundtracks to movies and video games that I liked, uh… Dr. Horrible,” Locke drifted off. He was not sure what exactly was considered cool music to listen to for a guy his age to listen to. Generally speaking Locke kept away from the heavy metal music. It was a little difficult to fall asleep to. ”No specific genre really. Just anything that sounds good to me. And uh… a song my friend and I wrote”
