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.
He did not say anything, when she apologized for being a bWitch. In his experience, people did not like it when you either confirmed or denied that status. Instead, and wisely, he focused on the thank you.
“You’re welcome.” He said.
The girl told him what had happened. He frowned and nodded. “Some people are freaking psychos. Wish I had a spare backpack.”
He wasn’t bullsh***ing. If he’d stored a spare, he’d have brought it out. But he had not made any fancy duality items in a while.
She fell into silent cleaning mode, and he helped where he could by telling her if she’d missed a spot or not. When she was done, she asked how she’d done.
“Best as you can do right here,” Danny said. She’d need a shower to get the rest.
“As far as pride goes... no. I have a Monster.” He dug out an energy drink. Offered that. It was no parents liquor cabinet, but he was no mind reader. And she was a minor.
He looked at her. “If you want, I got band aids. For the things that aren’t a bruised pride.”
It was a very nice building. So what if the part of town it was in was off the beaten path? Prospective heroes need to face uncertainty and adversity if they are to achieve their tip top potential! He could explain that to the kid, if the kid complained.
It wasn’t like it was a shady part of the city, see? It was even had bike racks! And the chances one might lose their bike to a kid with a bolt cutter whilst one trained were in the lower 20s.
There were no bad deals going down. The building was old, but not decrepit. It was well lit within, and filled with all sorts of elaborate equipment and training machinery.
Mr Zaganicci heard the PA system. He pressed the button in the office. “I’ll buzz you in. Buzz!”
There was a buzz on Legend’s side of the door and the mechanism unlocked. As the boy entered, Mr Zaganicci descended the flight of steps from the upper floor office.
He was a man in his late 50s or early 60s, with fly away hair on either side of his bald pate. Short and stocky, he probably only came to chest level with Legend. He wore thick round glasses and a white t-shirt and black sweats. Training clothes. A whistle dangled from his neck. On the top of his head, two little fake horns jutted out. As the coup de grace for the ensemble, the guy had little black hoofies poking out from the legs of his pants. He had paid the illusionist extra for that. The whole illusion was supposed to last 48 hours, unless he crossed running water or touched cold iron. The only thing missing from the look was a tiny fur tuft on his butt. But we can only do so much with what we got, c’est la vie.
He grinned at the kid. “Love the costume, kid! I’m Zaganicci! Pleasure to meet ya!” He stuck out a hand, for shaking.
“X... can I call you X? You’re gonna be a star! Tell me about yourself! What sort of powers do you possess?” He strutted around Legend, checking out the costume. Cape. Bold colors. A classic. The comics should have been paying him royalties for jacking his designs.
He took that offered elbow, and out into the cold night they went. Lady on one arm, heavy, mostly empty, bag in the other.
It really had gotten chilly. He really wished he had a second coat, to offer her. His only really worked for him. But if she shivered... he might just risk a cold for her.
Did he know the area? “No, not really. I only really come down here for shows.” And he hadn’t really done this bar all that much.
He led her down to the first street corner, and “oh hey, look. Green man!”
They followed it.
On the next street, someone began to follow them. Someone short and green. In a trench coat.
“Excellent,” he said. They would have no problems.
She could manage far more than two men, it seemed. He would keep the time limit in mind, but for what he had planned, he doubted that would be an issue.
“I don’t think I have any further questions right now. Yeah, I think you’ll do just fine, Missy.” He finished off his coffee. That was some good sh*t. Didn’t get this near often enough. “If you’re free right now, I can introduce you to the people you’ll be working with.”
—
“This is Spekter.” He said. His voice echoed off the walls of the warehouse. “Watch your mouths. She’s good. And she won’t tolerate any of your goddamn bee puns, Gary.” He pointed at the guy on the main level of the warehouse, dressed in the yellow and black bee-themed costume with the goggly headgear and antennae. The man goggles at him dumbly, and Lucien moved on.
“She will be handling the safe. We will go over the game plan in a few minutes. Spekter, this is Gary. The wasp trainer. And that guy over there in the red flight suit with thirty belts over his chest and the cyborg-looking silver helmet is Gnat-Man.”
Gnat-Man looked up from what he was tinkering with to look at Spekter. His helmet obscured all his facial features. “I like the red mask.” He said. He sounded handsome, like his diet consisted of honey, honey, and more honey. Though that was Gary, more than likely. Not the Gnat.
Lucien leaned forward to gently pluck the can of pepper spray from her fingers. He held it as if it weighed nothing more than a can of mace.
If she could be evasive with her power descriptions, then so could he. It had taken a lot of effort to hone his muscles to be able to carry around a shotgun in his fingertips. Or, just, you know, being prepared?
His guess had been right, though. Phasing. She could go through matter. That was good. Useful. No need to figure out how to pop the safe. No need to pack explosives to do it, or try Gnat’s powers. She could just waltz on through. And when she’d been phased, he’d noticed the weight had not affected her. Not until she’d come out of it. Then she’d staggered.
“So, what you do.” He nodded. “Can you take more than yourself? Because I got a guy and a bee.” He slid the cab back into his front pocket as he spoke.
“CDC says you can’t be too careful these days.” She said.
He raised a hand, in a gesture of agreement. Moved on.
Then the girl gave a long winded explanation that boiled down to nothing of note. Lot of posturing. And something about his shirt.
He could hear the amusement in her tone. The idea of messing with him pleased her. Lucien shrugged. “Losing my shirt wouldn’t phase me very much, but I don’t think you’d be very happy with what you saw.” He laughed.
He smiled. “Now, if you can get the can of mace from my front jacket pocket without disturbing me or dropping it, I will give ya props.”
The can of pepper spray was there, alright. But the weight of the thing would surprise her. Most people don’t expect a little thing like that to weigh as much as a heavy double-barreled shotgun.
The fourth man was a dame. A paranoid dame, if the shades and the face mask were any indication.
Well good. At least her paranoia would keep her from outing the entire plan before they took it to the bank.
Compared to her, his outfit was far more casual. He wasn’t covering his face. Tended to make one more memorable. Stand out. He wore a simple pair of slate grey slacks and a white business shirt, under a comfortable old business jacket. It fit with the bowler, made him look dapper, but not too outstanding. Like a banker with an affectation, who hoped to potentially impress a pretty young girl with his foppish ways and his assets. If he needed to disappear in a pinch, all it would take was a sneeze.
“It’s not a problem,” he said smoothly, Jersey accent all the way. “Gave me time to think.” He dropped his voice to add “like the mask. Very fashionable. You got a the corona virus or something?”
He smirked at her, and continued on as if he hadn’t just teased her about the mask. “So, anyways. Before I get the gang together, I just wanted to meet up and sort out some loose ends. Your resume didn’t list any special skills. Anything of note to add?”
The ad had been posted on the dark web. Lucien stared at the digital flyer, thoughtfully.
He was putting together another crew for a heist. He would damn well interview this one person. He already had two of the three needed for his four man job. If they had powers that dovetailed nicely with his other two people, fanfreaking tastic.
Guy one was skilled at the size game. He created a sort of... gas. It made things grow or shrink, depending on the dosage. Or his intent. Or something. Called himself Gnat-Man. Lucien honestly thought the moniker should have been Stinkbug. The gas smelled like crap.
Guy two had a garish yellow costume with black stripes. Wore goggles and had fake antennae... unless they were real. Really played up the gimmick. His power was... bees. Bees, bees, bees. He also had his favorite one, a trained wasp he kept in his belt. He talked to it all the frigging time. It was his best friend. Someone needed to tell him some of those buggers die when they sting. It would really pee on his parade. His moniker was... Gary. Jackass didn’t really go in for aliases. Lucien had taken to calling him Bee Man or The Wasp Trainer.
As for guy three... that was him. He’d be the getaway driver, as well as the brains. He had already worked with Gnat-Man and the Wasp trainer on gathering the tech. Set up a camera for the little wasp, and special communications headsets for all those involved. He’d even prepped them to size, in Gnat-Man’s case. Though he could make it change sizes with him as well.
Just need to meet with guy four. Lucien made contact and told them where to meet him, and when. How to tell it was him. They’d each wear a notable item. Bowler hat for him, and for the other person... he hadn’t been certain of gender, so he had just said “something red”.
He could have done code words and phrases of course, but he’d been unable to think of anything clever. The kid had been driving him crazy with the late nights studying and avoiding public places, so his minions had been unable to make him appear. No sneezing powder in the face, no Lucien. And no Lucien meant no Zagan, to organize the heist. That was his alias this time, Zagan. It fit.
The day and time came. It was a public place. A coffee house with an outdoor seating area and round tables with parasols. He sat at one of those and waited discretely. Just a short fat man in a bowler hat, sipping a latte. Nothing to see here, folks.
As she spoke, she walked her fingers up. His. Arm.
His brain sort of shorted out for a split second, and then everything snapped back into stark clarity.
Danny drained his beer in one long drink.
“Yep,” he said, catching his breath after the feat. “Sounds pretty damn fun.”
He got her, now. Loud and clear. He could have messed with her and played dumb (some more). Laughed his ass off. But then he might have wound up laughing alone.
Boy, had he had his signals criss crossed with this entire conversation. In hindsight, most of the subtlety had been in plain sight. Had he been so caught up by her he’d missed simple freakin hints? Uh, yeah he had.
“Let’s finish up here and see where the little green man takes us?” He suggested. Didn’t she still have one more drink? He’d pay the bar tab and they’d scoot.
The voice mailbox told the young demi-god of legend to leave his name and number after the beat. He would get back to him as soon as he was able. It was a gritty voice, a Jersey voice.
The second he was able, the owner of said voice called the kid back. It was the same day, thanks Chick-fil-A! Your spicy chicken sandwich was superior to Danny’s idiot palate. And the dash of pepper to his face afterwards helped. Clever of him to set it up so one of his mooks could act if the voice mail got a ping.
“Hey Legend, this is Tony Zaganicci, I got your call. I would definitely like to meet you. Can you come to my training facility at,” he listed off an address to a building he had rented. “In an hour? I’ll bring the equipment.”
((OOC I just realized at the end of my last post, Danny sneezed on the hands of God... oopsie!))
So they both liked to help people? That was cool! He totally missed any of the leading she was doing, or its undertones. Just a simple guy, simply missing dropped hints. Or maybe he just thought the best of people until proven wrong.
She did it one night at a time, so clearly they had a night job. Clearly, they did something that made people happy during the night. Clearly... she was something like a lounge singer or a comedian. Or maybe she had some sort of performing art.
“That’s cool,” he smiled. “About your night time job. Nice to know where you stand on the whole ‘make people happy,’ non-presidential aspirations thing. Sounds like we’re on the same page! I don’t wanna be president, too. Waaaay too much pressure.”
He was babbling. Shut up and drink your beer, Danny. He shut up and drank his beer.
He would have to ask her what she did for a living later.
She was very pretty.
And her named was Hebrew? Neat! He... maybe might have learned enough of that to read a book at some point...? He sure didn’t remember any of it now.
The topic changed suddenly and jarringly, from her name to his chest. And a question?
Whoa, personal space alert! Personal space alert. Did he like this or did he not? Danny’s cheeks flushed a little. Must’ve been hot in the bar. And she was socloseandwhispering in his ear. Okay maybe not whispering, but close enough. And hey— what was ‘a game called follow the little green man’?
“I dunno.” He said. “But if you hum a few bars, I’ll fake it. Err,” he shook himself and cleared his head. Who was he, Bugs Bunny? “Just kidding! No. What is it?” He smiled widely.
He shrugged and lifted one hand while he spoke. “Doctor is a pretty good thing to be. Makes good money. And I’d love to be able to take care of my parents. And I like helping people. Up there with making them happy, which is why I sing.” She smiled at her honestly, showing pearly whites.
Helping people was important, even if they were total douches. Everyone deserves to feel happy and healthy and good about themselves. When he looked at the world and saw people suffering... yeah, no. That wasn’t his bag.
He was smart, relatively, and had a good memory for stuff! He could think on his feet. Sometimes, it felt like he had more experience in thinking on his feet than most other folks. Like, say, an extra 60 years? But he was sure that was silly. His headspace was his own. Nobody was helping him store anything, or easing his anxiety when difficult times were ahoy.
He grabbed his beer and took a drink. Good head, nothing fancy. No IPAs or craft beer with orange zest. Not that he disliked such things! It was just that he had simple tastes most of the time. He liked him some simple comforts. Like talking to a pretty lady or dying again in Mario. Or singing to a lit crowd!
Pretty lady liked her drink, too. Probably liked keeping it simple as well. And she’d enjoyed his music which was always a plus.
Her name was Devia... and that was all she shared about herself.
Huh.
He took another sip of beer, and answered her. “I was really just gonna see where the night takes us. Playing it by ear. Fun. Maybe another beer after this one. And hearing more about you.”
He smiled at her. “Devia is a pretty name. What is that, French?”
So you wanna be a hero, kid. Well, whoop de doo. I have been around the block before, with blockheads just like you...
It isn't every day you get inspired by a Disney song. Now, when exactly had Lucien heard this song, you ask? When, in his many years trapped inside the body of an idiot? Good question.
Cut to a scene in the middle of the night after a long day of Danny boy studying. Pan to the pan of brownies. Now slide across the screen to the television playing cartoons. Left on, neglected, which its primary viewer had passed out. And had sneezed.
He hadn't been planning the transformation. It had been an accident. Those were a rarity for Lucien. Usually, the freak had control of his sneezes unless you tossed pepper in his face or threw him in a dusty room or gave him a cold. The only reason he had ever learned of the transformation had been due to him sneezing... and he was far more likely to do that than the idiot. So he had learned to tread carefully, and to take advantage of any transformation time so that he could utilize it to its greatest potential. Plan heists, pay the pepper retainer, make sure his gang was kept up to date on plans, and got paid. But that night... it had been an accident. He didn't have any things planned. And-- he was goofy enough to sit through at least one song.
Apparently, any impediments felt in one body were present in the other persona via duality. How fracking fskkky.
The song was good. Real good. He liked the guy with the goat's ass. Phil seemed like he had class. Something about him had just resonated with Lucien. Maybe it had been the blatant sarcasm and grouchy personality?
The song had inspired the plan. And the plan had taken up the rest of that night. He'd been feeling goofy, so sue him. He had just wanted to mess with heroes and zeroes.
Lucien had arranged a voice mailbox for the number, using one of his many burner phones. He'd gone and created the flier. Real tasteful. Good font. Good words.
"Professional Hero Trainer," it had proclaimed.
It had given some information, and listed such famous heroes as -- Crap. He'd had to look them up on the internet.
What was this? A hero fan forums? Yeah. This one had been pretty good. Lucien had picked several promising-looking fan favorites. Ones people most likely would not call up to double check the reference for. People like Train-Man, the Silent Hamster, and Blue Torch. Humanoid Tornado. Cheshire. Trash Man. Puck.
That last one looked like he was a nasty mother-effer. Face like a pug's. Some sort of creation power. Made really interesting... things. If he ever ran into that guy, he'd have to be wary. Yeah. And not quote Shakespeare.
Oh, what fools these morons be.
He'd gone to an all-night copy joint and printed out about 101 copies. Then, he'd plastered them all across New York. His men had helped. They made a good buck, that night.
His master plan here... was chaos. And maybe, to gain a foolish assistant for a day.
The trap was set. The plan was laid. As the sun rose, Lucien--
Aged scotch, huh? Oof, that was a spicy meatball. But he HAD said anything. He nodded when the bartender glanced his way. He could handle a few shots. Just as long as she didn’t decide she needed a $1000 bottle service or something. Lucky for him, the bar wasn’t a million dollar night club!!
When she turned towards him, Danny boy keep his eyes on her face with all the patience of a Catholic saint. Even though he was Jewish. She was a Lady. His dad had taught him respect.
She wanted to know more about him.
“No, I don’t sing full time. This is more a ‘for fun’ gig! Though we make money. Right now, I’m in my second year of medical school. Gonna be a Doctor!”
Or maybe a nurse. It really depended on how he felt at the end, but doctor was a good bet!
He wasn’t so worried about funds, as far as the drinks went. He’d just performed so he had enough to cover them. And the mystery scholarship he’d received covered school well enough. He had no idea who Two Angel foundation was, but they were good people.
“The band is mainly just friends I met in college and high school. We perform on weekends. Blow off some steam.” Danny explained. He drank his beer. “So, what do you do for fun. Also, name? I’m Danny.” He held a hand to his chest for emphasis. “You are?”
