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.
Allison stuck her tongue out as Nate laughed at her, then grinned. “They are not. They are bipedal eyes.”
Allison did not know much about drinking. She knew how to judge how much alcohol was in something by the taste, price, and type of drink, and how it would affect her, but not a whole lot about individual drinks. She shrugged cheerfully. “Sounds good.”
“It’s a real song.” Allison hummed a bit more of it along with the tapping before answering fully. “It’s Miss Lucy.”
Allison followed Nate to the bar, perching on a stool next to him with a shrug. The lack of a good place to put her feet was slightly irritating, but hardly something she wasn’t used to. She started tapping a toe on air instead, echoing the song she’d been humming earlier.
Deer? Allison felt the top of her head, then examined her hands as she answered absently. “Not sure. I like just about anything if it’s sweet. What’d you suggest?” She found no hooves, nor any indication of such on her hands, and twisted and looked down to examine her feet before looking back up at Nate. “I don’t look like a deer.”
She quite neatly focused on the part of her mind that was considering different species of deer and their physical features, and not the part that was recalling her parents training and applauding her earlier question. See what he suggests. See how much he pays--what it’s worth to him to make up for bumping into you--and how much alcohol it has--if he wants you drunk and how much. See if he’s potentially useful. That part of her mind was neatly kicked away, back to its corner where it could plot with itself and not bother her. Not everything has to be a business opportunity.
Allison sighed as her dancing was ignored, then perked up when Nate said he didn’t know where he was going. “Oh, good. Adventures are fun.” She followed as he walked--more quickly than she could easily keep up with, really. Skipping was considered, but dropped after a few steps in favor of humming and coming as close to dancing as she could while walking at that speed until they reached a bar. “Sure.”
The bar was quieter than Allison really would have expected, considering the time of night and presence of college students in the area. “Nope, not really.” She gave up humming and attempted dancing in favor of peering around the bar. Nothing hugely interesting, and no one she knew, unless you counted Nate.
Allison stayed at the edge of where the crowd had gathered as they drifted away, letting her attention drift between different people and trees that fell into her line of sight. When the crowd had finally just about completely drifted away, she finished considering the male tree across from her--it was quite large, but missing several branches; she suspected it would die within a few years, probably because it lost too many branches and was cut down--before heading over toward the previously-singing kid. “Hello. How’d you do that?”
Allison typed her phone number into Andrew’s phone, naming herself Rainbird Allison in the process, and handed it back as her own phone was returned. She turned to grab her backpack, slipped it on, took a step and paused to comment. “Paperwork? No wonder you’re boring.”
Allison gave Andrew a skeptical look. “The sole mutation that every X gene has in common is a beyond magnetic attraction to trouble. I know that much.” She dug her phone out of her pocket, and held it out to Andrew. “So, you’re going to mess it up, and I am going to fix it or replace it if I am capable of doing so. Phone number?”
Allison tilted her head as a thought occurred to her, then nodded. “Definitely phone number. I have to work in an hour.”
Allison grinned. Trust wasn’t quite the issue, but she’d go with it. “Nothing I’ve done has gotten me killed yet, figure you can’t be too bad, and I’m not on anyone’s kill list that I know of.” She stood smoothly and stretched as she thought. “Don’t know too many places, or I know the names but not where they are. No one to go with, but plenty of classmates to eavesdrop on.”
Allison took Nate’s hand, started to shake it, then thought better and spun toward him as if they were in some dance, regardless of his opinion on the idea. “I’m Allison. Aren’t you supposed to lead?”
“You’d need to find me for that.” Allison was really paying more attention to considering the design than to her answer. “There might not be a convenient storm.”
Fortunately, Andrew agreed to the finishing touches without arguing. Not that Allison was particularly likely to listen if he had argued, but this way was easier. Even if his agreement seemed to have a bit of patronizing in with the amusement.
Adding the colors wasn’t difficult. A bit tedious, but not difficult: thing green edging around the upper edges of the vines, so that the vines on the back of his arm were almost completely outlined and the ones on the under side had barely any edging at all, and a few green highlights on the leaf that she had to push black ink out of the way for. Then mixing white with a tiny bit of blue and green ink for a color the same shade as his skin but with a cooler tint, made into tiny, simple five-petaled flowers occasionally appearing along the stem where a leaf branched, and one or two free-floating petals.
Admittedly, probably something that would be appreciated more by a girl than the average guy, once the flowers were added. But he could deal with it. Allison backed off, tucked the bottles back into their places in her backpack, and nodded. “There. Done. And no messing it up.”
“Huh.” Allison examined the new vines, poked Andrew’s arm and shrugged. “Don’t know what they’ll do if your mutation does something, then. Might drag them back where they were, or mess them up some other way.”
She considered the design for another moment, then spun to dig through her bag, emerging with small bottles of green, white, and blue ink. “Come. Color is needed.” She gestured, pointing at the wall with all the imperiousness her father’s bosses used when telling her to go bake more cookies, the adults had important things to discuss. As if she couldn’t hear from the kitchen. “Sit.”
Allison tilted her head, looking at the bands on Andrew’s arm. They looked just like any other tattoo to her; she couldn’t think of any reasons she shouldn’t be able to. “Sure. I can use any ink.” Messing with a tattoo someone had already probably wasn’t the best idea... but he’d asked, and it wasn’t anything complicated; she should be able to put the ink back easily.
Allison’s hand hovered over his arm, slight movements mimicking what she did with the ink, no matter how unnecessary they were. She pulled the ink into long lines first, dragged out of the bands and up his arm like dragging a knife through frosting, then curled and bent the lines, pulling some ink into little collections and drawing the lines up his arm, curling them around each other, until several minutes later the bands had been replaced with seven evenly spaced rings of vine, each of which sprouted five vines that grew up his arm, twisting around his arm and each other. “There.” She nodded to herself, thoroughly pleased with the result.
Allison had started out used to a lot of things, and gotten used to a sizable number more since moving to New York. Spontaneous choruses in the park, however, were not one of those things.
They probably should have been, but they weren’t.
Allison wandered over toward the crowd, weaving between people to get close to the center, and finding someone singing and playing guitar. Singing, or for that matter, even clapping, along was extremely tempting, but both her fingers and ribs were still broken, so both possibilities were quickly eliminated after one try. Allison pouted to herself, and instead settled for listening intently.
Listening intently and pouting lasted for only a moment before it turned into listening intently and frowning in curiosity, then to grinning. That sound was not natural, not for one kid and one guitar in a park. Which meant there was more going on, which meant she’d probably stumbled onto someone very useful, musically at least. She kept grinning as the song ended and the boy smiled, and settled to wait until most of the enthusiastic crowd had drifted away.
If he started playing again, or the crowd took a while to drift away... well, whatever. Allison could wait.
Allison--or Rainbird, apparently, that was still amusing her, though not nearly so much as the hair smelling--hummed and nodded, curling up on her side on the wall this time. “Tattoos, no drawing though. Not good enough at it. Well, patient enough,” she corrected herself. “But, I can do tattoos.” She held her hand up for a moment, and the black and silver lines on that arm that were closest to her hand seeped out of her skin and into the air, mixing together to form a small disk of metallic black ink hovering over her hand, then spun out into a slightly wider ring. Like Saturn. I wonder if we just live on controlled dirt.... “Like this. Hurts a bit to absorb it, though. Or get it out. And burns, and freezes, and other stuff. Messes with the nerves.” She pulled the ink back down, absorbing it into her nails so they were shiny metallic black, and surveyed them. I like that effect.
Allison caught the boy’s muttering, but decided not responding was the better idea. Having your personality changed on someone else’s whim was not, presumably, enjoyable, and from the sound of it the boy probably had a bit more to say on the subject than she really wanted to hear. She watched Emma go through enough already.
“Allison,” she answered, laying back down on the wall. Cloud gazing seemed to be the activity of the day.
A few moments of cloud gazing later--there was a dragon losing its head, and Allison didn’t want to watch--Allison’s attention was caught by dark hair above her. Specifically, Andrew’s hair. She tilted her head slightly, then managed to get up onto her hands and knees, crawl over, sit up on her knees--even sitting down he was obnoxiously tall--and lean over to smell his hair.
She sat back, looked thoughtful for a moment, and then announced her conclusion like the great discovery it was. “Your hair smells like hair.”
Allison first spent several seconds blinking at the boy’s comment. Then, the next few minutes giggling helplessly.
“Don’t worry,” she eventually managed to get out between giggles. “You’re not the first person to say it.” She held up the phone again. “Emma spent two months calling me “the one with the happy smelling hair.” Her personality gets changed by what she smells, and my shampoo turned her into a happy fangirl type. So she got the same shampoo to use so she can always smell it so she can always be at least some part happy.” She dropped the phone back into her pocket and shrugged. “And other people talk about my hair a lot. So yeah, don’t worry. Not new."
Allison wasn’t quite sure whether she felt more like crying or laughing when a sort of familiar voice yelled at the teens, distracting them and chasing them away from her. Of course nothing was going to work right, she wouldn’t need it to if anything ever did. She curled up tighter than she had been, ignoring the sharp protest from her fingers and ribs, and closed her eyes. Maybe she could just sleep until everyone left, then get back to her apartment and hide for a day or two, until she was ready to be outside again.
That thought was promptly destroyed when the voice returned much closer, and trying to apologize to her for something that she was quite sure wasn’t anyone’s fault if it had even happened. She didn’t really care enough to waste the effort figuring it out, but did open one eye to peer up and find the obnoxious boy standing over her. ...What is your problem? Attack of delusion? Go away. I know you’re already right. His concern--fake or deluded, didn’t really matter--was infinitely more annoying than the accusations he’d made at the ice cream store. That, really, felt like it had been weeks ago. Or, better yet, some other, alternate universe Allison, who wasn’t ready to strangle the boy hovering over her for the chance to shut him up so that the paramedics might overlook and leave her.
She didn’t have the energy to glare, though, so instead she sighed and closed her eye again. She ignored the paramedics--and everyone else--when they got there, letting them move her and do whatever things she didn’t care enough to understand without bothering to help or protest.
Life moves on. She’d be suitable for public again soon, and sometime she’d be realistic again and get another chance. It’d happen someday. She could wait.
