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.
Enough time had passed without any kind of retaliation from his combatants that he was fairly certain it was never going to come. His gaze didn’t break its hold on the pair, but he did begin to move again. If the two of them weren’t going to finish him off then he had absolutely no interest in hanging around. He didn’t know where he was going to go, but being away from this place and these people was certainly the better option.
His body started to roll away from the duo down along the edge of the building, looking more like a blob of oil dripping then an actual person crawling away. For his first few advances his eyes remained staring them down, but slowly his gaze started drifting from the other two as he put more and more distance between them and himself.
Each stride he formed himself into a more human shape, picking up speed with each step until he was moving at what felt like a full sprint, but in reality was more like a limping jog. But still, he was putting distance between the two of them, and that’s all he really seemed to care about.
All of this was excellent news to Shane. As terrible as the last few days had been, he wasn’t ready to throw in the towel on life just yet. Hearing that he was still breathing, especially from a spirit, was very reassuring. The other sampling of good news was that his mother didn’t seem to remember what happened. Perhaps one of the reasons he wasn’t ready to give up on life yet had something to do with his refusal to take the blame for what happened to her. Hearing that she didn’t remember absolved him of the guilt, at least in his twisted, delusional mind. He was perfectly content with living a lie as long as no one else knew the truth.
Despite her efforts to remind him of his wounds, he still couldn’t manage to get past the fact that there was a ghost in front of him. If both of the two logical reasons for her being there weren’t the actual reasons (those being to escort him to the other side, or haunt him for what he’d done), then what was? He gave his shoulder a glare, trying to cover up the exposed wound with other pieces of his jacket before returning his inquisitive gaze back to his mother.
“If you’re not here for me, what are you doing here?”
He wasn’t quite demanding, but he had a stern quality in his voice; the kind of tone you use when it’s clear you don’t want to beat around the bush. His gaze was firm, and a little suspicious. Not everything was adding up here, and if this was all some kind of joke to someone, he didn’t want to play along with it any longer then he had to.
Shane rolled himself up against the wall and stayed there. He wasn’t stupid enough to think he could pursue this fight any longer, so he was resting. The woman, back on her feet, was once again shouting something at him. He, once again, wasn’t really paying attention. At this point anything she could be trying to say didn’t really matter to him. Either she was taunting him, telling him to piss off, or apologizing. Regardless of which it was though, he wasn’t going to be budging from this spot, and he had no interest in having a conversation with her either.
He was doing everything in his power to calm down. He’d being seeing nothing but red all evening, but now that he was at an obvious disadvantage a level head seemed like the most important thing to have. The pain coming from the wound was making that goal seem far from his reach though.
He stayed in his curled up position, limbs sucked into the bulk of his mass. He didn’t say anything other then the occasional grunting noise and a wince here and there. His eyes, on the other hand, were darting in every possible direction. He was scanning the alley in case there were any new threats, as well as an exit strategy. Mainly though, he was keeping tabs on the other two, who had now gathered together. Strength in numbers, right?
No matter how he looked at his situation though, it seemed clear that the next move was in the tube-woman’s hands.
Sorry to everyone waiting on posts from me. Work has exploded in the last week and none of the part time people will be coming back to lighten the load until next week. I'll try and find time this week, but I make no promises. Sorry again.
This evening was becoming a more confusing ordeal then his mind could deal with in its current state. In only seconds he’d managed to forget that the woman in front of him had been a boy just moments before, and he was now completely convinced that this was his mother he was staring at. Nothing was going to convince him otherwise.
>> “No, I’m not your mother.”
Nothing would convince him, but a confession like that would certainly give him a run for his money. Unfortunately for the boy behind the disguise, Shane’s delirious state took the declaration of “my appearance is an illusion” to mean that his angel/ghost theory was in fact true.
Shane slumped forward, moving onto his knees from the slouched position he’d been resting in. He was careful with the movements of his arm, placing his hand into a pocket in the attempt to simulate a sling while placing his other hand on the ground, leaning forward until he was only inches from his mother’s face.
He reached out to stroke her hair, as she had suggested, and unsurprisingly his hand just passed through the illusion like some kind of hologram. He repeated the test again, just to make sure that he had indeed seen his hand pass through her hair. This truly was the strangest night of his life.
Puzzled by how and why this was happening, Shane decided it was time to start getting some answers, and who better to get them from then the source?
“So you’re dead then?” He asked the spirit. He paused trying to read her equally puzzled expression before continuing the interrogation. “If you are dead, how are you able to be here?” He hesitated on the part he really wanted to know but was afraid to ask.
Shane collided with the wall hard. His head managed to steer clear of the impact - but just barely - while his shoulder crumpled from the hit. There had been far too many incidents with the walls of the alley tonight and he was getting sick of it. Both sides of his body were aching, the impaled side of course hurting significantly more. His eyes were fixed on his target though, the purple woman he was currently tethered to, and no amount of pain was going to break that concentration. He could see his arm sailing through the air, ready to make contact with his opponent when a sudden and surprising mixture of sensations started coursing through his body.
There was a faint sound of shouting that he’d hardly heard, but it was unmistakable; a warning. It was immediately followed by an increase in pain from his shoulder as the tube wiggled free from his flesh. The pain was overwhelming, but he had a moment of relief as he felt the collision of his own whip making contact at the other end of the alley. He was no longer looking at his target now though. He'd underestimated his unbreakable stare, which apparently was vulnerable to the intense pain he was feeling in his freshly exposed wound. It was only for a second that he looked away, but in that moment he was hit with some kind of metallic object, right into the side of his head.
The collision from the shield knocked him from what little stable footing he had, leaving him in a crumpled position on the ground. He wasn’t unconscious, but he was disoriented and could barely make out up from down. His instincts took over and he reeled in all of his appendages to create a ball like shape, essentially his fetal position. His eyes aimless scanned the surrounding area, trying to latch on to anything recognizable.
He could see the shield and managed to piece together that it was the cause of the impact that knocked him down. He tossed out an arm to grab it, which was successful after a few missed attempts. Once he managed to get hold of it, he tossed it in the direction of the girl, but there was no focus to the throw and it bounced off a wall nowhere near her.
My computer hasn't been playing nicely the last few days, and I think it finally just gave out entirely (I can't get it to turn on). Posting might be scarce until I can figure out what's wrong. Could be a day, or it could be much longer. So ya, just a heads up for those I owe posts to.
Shane nursed his arm after tossing the box. He hadn’t quite thought that action through and the wound on his shoulder burned with pain from the sudden and excessive use. He winced audibly, clutching the stained clothing covering the damage. The feeling was taking the bulk of his attention almost completely, to the point where the stranger from moments earlier nearly managed to sneak past him.
He watched the young man cross in front of him carefully. Although it was clear that he was concerned himself, Shane knew he was in no shape to deal with anyone if they were to start any kind of altercation with him, so he kept his distance. The man kept moving forward, seemingly avoiding eye contact at all cost, until he quite suddenly tripped, crashing down right in front of the groaning shape shifter. That’s when Shane’s concerns really started to develop.
Right before his (admittedly blurring) eyes he saw this thin boy change shape. Another mutant, he thought to himself, but then it started to become clear what the boy was changing into. His mother.
Awestruck, he stared directly into his mother’s eyes, his jaw hanging completely open. How could this be happening? Less then two days ago he watched her die. If it was a trick, how could this kid know what she looked like? There was even the looming notion that he’d finally died himself, from the wound most likely, and he was able to see his mother now that his spirit had moved on.
There was a battle of conflicting emotions in his chest. He was both thrilled to see her face again, but the circumstances surrounding her sudden appearance were leaving him skeptical. But still, despite his best efforts to conceal his excitement, he did let one word out, tinged with a tone of wonder.
There was a certain level of satisfaction as his tendril whip cracked off the side of the head of the costumed boy. They were far enough away from one another that he couldn’t quite make out the details of his expression, but the way his body crumpled into a heap on the ground after the collision was enough for Shane to use his imagination. It was strange for him to enjoy something like that so much, but he couldn’t deny that he most certainly did.
As quickly as the boy went down, the vigilante was back on her feet, and looking as vengeful as ever. She shouted something to him along the lines of a pick on someone your own size type of threat, but he was hardly listening. Instead he was reeling in his whip-like appendage, preparing for it’s next strike.
Her threats were anything but idle, though. He hardly had time to react to the onslaught of pointed tubes flying right towards him. His mass was distributed primarily in his right arm and chest, leaving his legs with just enough to support the rest of him. This particular arrangement was not very conducive to dodging, running or any other form of evasive action. Taking a note from his opponent he sent his whip out to latch on to an exposed pipe and pulled himself out of harms way. Partially anyways.
One of the trio caught on to him, piecing his skin clean through. That pain would have been severe enough on it’s own, but the pull he was getting from the dodge he’d performed caused a ripping sensation to course through his body.
A short cry of agony left his lips followed by another increase to his heart rate and breathing. Blood was running down his shoulder now, soaking the jacket he was wearing in red. He tried to shift the weight from the wound around to try and spread the pain out a bit and lighten it overall, as he’d done in the past, but it had been a long time since he’d suffered a cut that deep and that wide, and the simple act of shifting the mass was too painful in that area.
In frustration he tossed his whip arm out towards the girl, but it lacked the same ferocity that it had when he’d swung it at the boy only moments earlier.
