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.
Lord, this guy was ridiculously large. He made the whole dressing room feel small.
>>”Maybe you haven’t noticed but I am afflicted with a new curse. One of silence.”
"Yeah. That was me. Though I wouldn't call it a curse."
>>”What sort of disaster? I happen to specialize in combatting them... Me a mutant? No, I’m not a mutant. I’m a god!”
Oh, bother.
>>”The oil you refer to is a by product of my powers. I agree though it does look good on me.”
The signs and sigils moved on his skin, glowing. Serena tilted her head. If he objected to being called a mutant then he was either utterly delusional, or... a mystic? Or a mystic's creation? The ease he lifted the table with proved that he was indeed very strong.
>>”Like I said, one of your models looks to be my brother. A trickster, Hermes. I didn’t think any of the other gods were still on this plane.”
"That guy? Please, he's not a god. His name is Damien and a goddamn pain in the ass is all he is." Okay, so Hercules here had some kind of delusion. She was just not sure why. "We are in the middle of an Atlantean fashion presentation. Pretty tacky if you ask me but what can I do? You, on the other hand... you are using magic. How did that happen?"
Serena hung up. She hoped the ambulance would get there fast.
>>"Girl, once the pizza is here you don't have to stick around... Give me my phone! I want to clarify the meatlover's pizza!"
The guy yanked on the phone, and Serena let go.
"You are not getting any pizza. I called an ambulance for you. I'm gonna assume you are being a moron because you got a concussion, and it's not genetic. Benefit of the doubt." she told him while cleaning her hands carefully with some sanitizer. "Also, I'll need the information of the company you work for. Insurance purposes."
Someone was about to get the daylights sued out of them.
The guy must have been singing to himself because he continued when she snapped the spell away. Well, that was a creative way of making himself more annoying. Serena unhooked the phone from his hand.
>>"I'm not doing anything, but if that's you ordering pizza, then I wish I were doing whatever you think i'm doing."
Serena dialed 911.
"Hello, hi. A man just landed on top of my car. He was... just floating up there. Yes. Yes I do assume he's a mutant, and not a life-sized balloon. Yes, he'd conscious. Although he's singing, so his head might be scrambled."
This was New York City. 911 should have gotten used to mutant-related accidents by now. Serena gave them the address.
"Yes I'll wait. What the hell am I gonna do, drive away with the guy on top of my car? Do hurry up."
The guy kept on talking, completely disregarding the fact that he was making no sound at all. Okay, so he was not the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree. He looked like he was in the middle of a bad lip sync when the sound cut out. But you had to admire the sheer confidence.
Serena waited until he was inside the dressing room and closed the door before snapping her fingers again, dispersing the spell.
"Keep it down, will you? This show's already a disaster, I don't need a glowing, talking dump truck to spice it up."
Serena folded her arms, her rings flashing. She was ready to put the cone of shame on the guy again if he started yelling.
"So, what are you doing here, really? Are you a mutant, or are you just really fond of body oil?"
For someone who had just dropped several feet onto the top of a magic-hardened car, the guy sure had a lot of attitude to yell about pizza.
>>"YOU BEEYOTCH. I can't believe you would hang up when I expressly told you to give him the f*cking address!"
"What did you just call me?"
>>"You better redial that number and finish that call right now or else! And it's meat f*cking-lovers pizza!"
"Oh, shut the hell up" Serena snapped, both verbally and with her fingers, her tourmaline ring flashing as she called up a spell again. The cone of silence descended onto the guy, hopefully keeping any further pizza-related b*tching at bay.
Then, she tried to exit the vehicle.
The door didn't open. She tried multiple times. It wasn't locked, and there was no way it was dented enough to be stuck in place. Serena scooted in an unladylike manner (while also swearing in an unladylike manner), and tried the passenger side. No dice. Nothing in the car was willing to move one inch. Swearing some more, she reached out the window and took the guy's phone to dial 911. Snapping her fingers again, she dispersed both spells.
"What in the ever loving f*** have you done to my car?"
There was movement on the roof. The guy was not dead or out cold. Serena was not sure if that made the situation better or worse, but either way it was not great for the car. If he had landed on the hood she could have at least pushed him off before she drove away.
>>"Hey lady!... Can you tell the guy on the other end of the phone the address to this place? I need that to finish my order and... I can't... really... reach."
Serena blinked, looking at the phone danging in the window. There was a call going on, and the screen said PIZZA.
You gotta be f*** kidding me.
Serena reached out the window and pushed the red button.
"Let me be very clear, the only thing I'm willing to call is an ambulance. Just so you don't die on top of my car. I don't have time for that kinda paperwork. Whatever you do, keep breathing."
Hunk of meat definitely seemed to be struggling with the concept of no. That was never a good sign in a man.
>>”A pass? Hmmmmm... Well. What if I am a model? May I see my brother then?”
"Absolutely n..."
He flexed. He flexed. The shirt ripped off like all of this was some kind of an idiotic cartoon. He stood there half naked and obviously proud of himself, with tattooes all over. And some of them were glowing. Serena was not often rendered speechless, but this as one of those rare occasions.
>>”Or!!! Allow me to help you and lighten your burden! Or if you could tell me where to acquire a pass that will also do.”
"Shut the hell up." Serena snapped her fingers, and her tourmaline ring flashed before the cone of silence descended on the man. She was trying to keep a low profile as a mystic; the last thing she needed was a strange glowing man bellowing around her runway. She needed to get rid of him fast. Waving a hand, she motioned to him to follow her, and marched into the first empty VIP dressing room she could find.
Okay, so maybe a gallery opening was not the best place to test the truth magic, since everyone was sipping, rather than drinking. In large quantities, alcohol was its own truth serum (that's why it worked so well combined with the spell. Better that coffee anyway.). In small quantities, all she could hope for was some fun bursts of honesty from the patrons tonight.
>>“I would have said hippos, but good eye!”
Serena smirked at the young man. He looked like he shared her feelings about this event. She was curious if he'd voice them too.
>>“That artist in particular has unique tastes. Personally, I thought it was kind of a Rorschach test. The statuary is pretty good though. Some real Adonis pieces.”
"All of modernist art is a Rorschach test if you ask me." Serena noted, glancing around. "But at least the Adonis asses are realistic?"
Some artists had to just stick to what they were good at.
"Serena Lockhart." she introduced herself, turning back to the man and offering a hand. She was not going to add Lockhart House. People who knew fashion knew it anyway, and those who didn't... well, didn't need to. "Buying art, or just here for the company?"
She honked. He fell. It was raining mutants. Hallelujah.
"NO YOU DON'T" Serena snapped, slamming a hand against the roof of her car in the same split second the man landed on the other side. The diamond in her ring flashed (it was a flashy rock to begin with, but this time, it was the magic), and the roof held up without a dent. Protection spell. Diamonds indeed were a girl's best friend. Serena knew it was only a matter of time before someone tried to take a bite out of her, so she had been experimenting with hardening materials at a touch. Because magic beat bulky bulletproof vests. The fact that she got to wear a diamond ring was just the added bonus.
Some random flying weirdo was sure as hell not going to dent her brand new car.
A phone clanked against her driver's side window. Serena rolled the window down and craned her neck to look up at the man lounging on top of the sunroof.
"I can list ten different ways you were breaking the safety regulations, and I am not even a lawyer. Don't you dare try to get money out of this."
Serena was not running late for a meeting. She never ran late for meetings, she liked to be there early because she was the boss and she liked watching everyone else scramble, thinking they were late. Which they were. If you arrived after the boss, you were late, and the boss was always early. Fun. And ye,t being early did not make Serena any less annoyed by the fact of the parking place outside Lockhart House was blocked by some idiotic repairman.
"For f*** sake" she swore, pushing her sunglasses up to take a look at the damn car, and the guy hovering above it. Freaking mutant affirmative action. Serena pulled in as close as she could to the parking place in her shiny white car, and banged a hand on the horn.
Serena tried to use simple words with simple people, but this one still did not seem to get the message. He followed the models in, obviously looking for someone, and she was not about to have this hunk of... loud stuff anywhere near the runway.
>>”So my brother is here! Excellent! I thought it looked like Hermes! I haven’t seen him in centuries! What sort of spectacle does my brother take part in?”
These model stage names were getting ridiculous. Serena was going to swap all of the bunch out for lifelike golems the first chance she got to work up the spell.
>>”Ah! Apologies once again miss. I can be quite the distraction from what I’m told! I didn’t know about the show, I saw my brother and followed him here. I’m always two steps behind, he’s a quick one! My name is Hercules!”
Oh, he was more than two steps behind. And a few steps to the side.
Serena looked at the hand offered, then back at the man.
"Sure you are. I really don't care whose brother you are. There is a runway about to start and you are not going anywhere near the models. I have enough to deal with. Unless you have a pass you can wait outside for your brother."
Art gallery opening. One of those things Serena considered work, not leisure. It was good for networking, for being seen, and for generally keeping up the image of belonging to the New York elite that had money to burn on abstract modern paintings. Tiny food, expensive cocktails, mediocre company. All of which had been improved significantly by her newfound mystic powers.
Tonight, it was all about the cocktails.
The man who played the piano finished the song and went for a drink. Serena had noticed him earlier, he was clearly not the hired entertainment, but he was still fairly good. And had to be a little off kilter to perform in public like that as a guest. Interesting enough for a little experiment. Serena had put the spell on the wine on the tray a few minutes earlier, with a little sleight of hand. Now to see if it worked.
"Is it just me, or is that a picture of two elephants f***ing?" she smirked, stepping up to stand next to the guy, holding her own glass of wine.
>>"Easy. I am, simply put, the best candidate you are currently going to see in this city."
Oh good, the spell was working. The girl drank from her coffee, didn't sip, drank, and suddenly she was speaking the truth. Serena quietly complimented herself for a spell well done.
>>"I...um... meant to say that I believe I am the best candidate for this job because every other "accountant" I have ever personally met is in it for lavish holidays and big paychecks, and most usually skim some off of the top, and I am purely in it because it's currently my passio-"
Interesting. Serena watched with an amused smirk as Annalise scrambled for some semblance of modesty after blurting out what was actually on her mind. Which was really not all that bad, all things considred.
>>"...I'm so sorry, I don't know what's come over me."
"Confidence is nothing to apologize for. As long as you have the skills to back it up." she pointed out, waving a hand. Poor girl looked a bit distressed. She was probably one of those who had been taught early on not to be 'too proud' whatever that meant. "Glad to hear your work is your passion. Although I have to admit, I have never met someone with a passion for accounting before. Were hiking and the environment already taken?"
It was one of those ideas that made Serena want to throw up. It had all the makings of a New York Fashion Week disaster: cultural sensitivity, historical reenactment, and togas. If it had been solely up to her, she would not have been caught dead in the two-mile vicinity of this sorry excuse for a runway. But her whole PR and marketing team, including some of her bleeding heart designers (to be culled at the next possible neutral opportunity) mounted a coordinated campaign of House Lockhart being a part of the Welcome Atlantis event. Because cultural bla bla, immigration bla bla, sword and sandal nostalgia or something. Barf.
So, here she was. The models were already decked out in the "Atlantis tribute" creations of half a dozen famous fashion companies, including a small number introducing outfits by up-and-coming Atlantean designers. Serena, never a fan of affirmative action, thought the whole lineup was disgustingly twee, but they were in it now, and she had to put on a pleasant (and expertly painted) face, and look like she was all-so-sensitive about diversity in the fashion industry. And togas. She gave her designers hell about their pieces, until they looked halfway decent. In low light. For a drag queen.
The models took a short break, but they were filing in now for finishing touches before they headed to the runway. Serena stood by the dressing room, wanting to personally make sure that the Lockhart outfits looked good enough that they would float to safety on the wreckage of the fashion sh*storm this event was bound to kick up. As the Atlantean-inspired and silk-wrapped models came in, someone that looked like one of the bouncers hurried in after them.
>>”Brother!!! Hello?”
"Excuse you." Serena leveled a stare at the burly man. She was wearing a tight, shiny black outfit to offset the flowy Greeky collective wardrobe malfunction. "Family is not allowed back here. There is a show happening, in case you didn't notice and I don't appreciate my models being distracted."
Coffee was a safe bet for both of them. For Annalise because it painted her as a professional and dependable person, and for Serena because she had spiked the coffee with the spell a while ago, as the most likely choice of beverage. As the guest would begin to drink, the truth effect would start taking hold. Serena had never managed to get it to powerful truth-and-nothing-but-the-truth levels, but at least it would show a bit more about who she was really dealing with here. People tended to perform elaborate fake versions of themselves at job interviews.
Serena poured herself a drink as well and took a seat behind her desk, and she did not give a flying f*ck about the whole 'being an open person without barriers' HR spin. She was the boss here and she was going to make sure this woman knew it. She was not hiring a friend.
"So, Ms. Reed. What do you think makes you a good candidate for this job?"
