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.
Sam/Glamour made Celeste cry. He would pay for that. She wants to ridicule the place where Sam lives. To her surprice, Sam lives at the mansion. At the mutant mansion. She can´t ruin the entire mansion. But she is going to organize a paintball match as a cover for her destructive revenge.
Celeste let out a long sigh of fatigue. It condensed instantly. Of course she knew it was just hot air mixed with cold air, but it could have been an externalization of her very soul. If it truly was her soul... it was surprisingly white. Who would say. While it lasted, she tried to remember a good justification for what she would do. She could not find a good reason. The operation began when she swore revenge on the teenager who made her cry. She really do not remember the specific reason of her revenge. She just remembered the crime and the one to blame for it. The little girl reviewed every small step of her plan. She looked around cautiously. Trying to avoid missing any important detail. Everything was in place. All set, exactly as she had planned in her head two days ago. On the physical plane of reality, her plan was launched earlier in the morning, and after several hours of uninterrupted work, the battlefield was complete. There where a lot of students looking from the windows, trying to figure what was going to happen. The air was full of expectation. The trunk of each tree in the spacious front yard of the mansion was covered with a thick fabric made of polyethylene. Most of the windows also dressed the same way.
Everything was coldly calculated. As cold as snow. Permissions. Equipment. A lot of it. Too much. She even hired qualified personal to instruct and train all the future fighters. It was a one time occasion, there would be a charity event on behalf of the Manfrella family for all the "mutants", *cough* ...students of the institute. All they had to do to participate was to attend a short talk on how to safely operate the weapons. And of course, kneel and praise to any member of the family. Including her. What? It was not in the contract? "Note to self: Include it in the next charity." While the little devil walked away from her comfortable limousine, she took out her phone and checked the time. She nodded, very proud of herself. At that time the talk would be over, and everyone would be getting their equipment. Tactical vests, knee pads, elbow pads, paintball mask with goggles and of course, a nice paintball pistol. Once everyone had their equipment, they will be randomly divided into two teams. Blue and red. There was no point limit, or objective. It was just for fun. That way inexpert players could get some fun of it. Why is it always the same two colors? Another mystery of life.
That answer was not the divine revelation she expected to hear. She still did not know why her father had left his beloved country. Or why he had left her. Surrounded by a crowd, but alone. That question would remain unanswered. Forever.
Celeste looked outside. They were near the mansion. A few blocks ahead, maybe. She was not be sure. The landscape was so different from the city. More space. Greener. Much more quiet. They were not so far from the center of the city, but the landscape had changed so suddenly.
He lied. She knew it. She smiled without wanting to press her guest. Something in the story he was not telling touched her heart. They were so similar in their tragedies. Or at least, in the tragedies that she imagined for them. Because she really knew nothing about him. Still, Sam had something she liked. She decided to remain quiet the rest of the trip. To learn more about his past could cause new doubts about the implementation of her plan.
Sam did too much to avoid admitting he was a mutant. He would not talk about it, but neither denied being studying at the mutant mansion. Then he was a mutant after all. Something in his attitude calmed Celeste, a least a little. Her companion was not a monster, he was more afraid of the rest of the world. Of course the driver was listening, he knew exactly where they went. He always did. There was no direct order to give. He was a good listener. She would be really scared to admit being a mutant, too many people feared or hated them. She had money. It would be harder without money. At least she could hide it, living behind comfort and luxury. What about Sam? For a moment she had the crazy idea to cancel Plan B. To cancel the entire operation of revenge. That was not her style. She rejected the idea, like sheer folly. Forget it. Still, Sam was in a situation very similar to hers. Bridging the gap. He just arrived from another country, probably would not have many friends. He was a mutant, and had no one to tell it. Except for all the people in the mansion...
She just nodded, smiling. Then asked without realizing it. " Do you have any friend in NY?" Yes, it was a good thing even though she did it to see where he lived. That little statement almost makes her sad. Almost. He failed. He would have to make a better effort to make her cry for second time in the same day. The plan would continue. But... Why would someone cross the ocean to find solitude? It was a good question. So did their parents, and now they were constantly traveling to Italy. Was not easier to stay there? "No, it's close." She lied. Her building was located in the heart of the city. There was nothing to do across town. Again she asked a mental question aloud. She asked her father. But Sam would help too. "Why do you move here?"
A bucket of cold water magically fell on Sam, his expression change. He was distracted. He looked surprised. Her mental uppercut caught him off guard, hitting squarely on his face. While trying to look ahead again, Celeste imagined how she moved quickly to land another punch directly to his liver for a quick KO... She opened her mouth in the physical plane to attack once again, to try to corner him. Then she stopped. Her lips opened as she tried to decide what to do. Would him turn to be a dangerous mutant? She knew nothing about him. If he lost control could start spitting acid, or freeze the air around him. She was afraid. She should not have asked that. There was no turning back.
She closed her mouth. Accommodating her thoughts. Forming a sentence with all the words that floated in disorder on her head. "The most famous school with these three characteristics..." She paused. Then recited for him before proceeding. "Private. Across town. Where you can live." She picked up the thread of the conversation again. "... Is the mutant mansion. I really do not know the name." She innocently smiled apologetically. She was not really sorry, she was terrified. Now he was a new experimental bomb, unstable, which could explode at any time. Her gaze was not filled with elitism, but cold. Calculatingly. He was closer to the door. If she had to escape, she must pass near him.
If he really lived at the mansion, she could not paint the entire thing... it would be crazy to try to infiltrate that nest of people with super powers. Almost a suicide. Plan A canceled. Plan B, to infiltrate the mansion and find Sam's room... How? She had to find a good excuse. Maybe if she could claim to be a mutant, they could show her the facilities... no, too simple. Besides she had to announce to the world that she was one of them. It would not work. She was not a mutant, of course not. A witch maybe. A demon, a sprite, a fairy, anything but a mutant. Its genetic code had no faults. Or so, she wanted to believe.
Sparkling water. Fountain of youth. Eternal beauty. It would be a nice motto since they were drinking water made for Hollywood stars. She was not a star but a queen. Celeste took a long, cool sip. It was a little cold. She look down upon the dead minibar. It was its fault. She will punish "him" later.
Why Sam had not made a single comment on the water? She underestimated Sam. Both knew how to hide some emotions. Surely he was dying of envy. Like which each other small victory, real or imaginary, Celeste smiled mentally. If externalized, it would scare even the bravest. She let the seat embrace her. It was so comfy. She really enjoyed those trips. She knew she was alone, yes. But she felt protected there.
Private school. It was not the same as private teachers. When her father began his career as a mobster, he was totally paranoid. He was constantly worried about his security and his family. Now he almost forgot both. At that time, the school was not safe. So she had to continue her great learning with tutors. She was still lost in thought, when something changed. She was remembering those old days when her family used to do things together. Celeste missed these times a lot. Suddenly, an invisible hand struck her head gently, like knocking in a glass door, afraid of breaking it. Private school. Across town. Living there. "Are you a mutant?." She did not like that word, she hated it, feared it. Feared them. She was not a mutant. Something similar, but not a mutant. Truly, she did not know what she was. What were these mutations? A disease?
Is pretty obvious for me. Katrina/Sebastian should be nominated. If you have any doubt you can just read some of her Oracle threads. They are all awesome. Every thread is different in its own way, but they are all full of quality writting. (The ones Kat/Sebby are in, and all the other thread) I love how she managed all the NPCs in the plot, the action move smooth and every step is coldly planned to bring us a magnificent plot to jump in. Again. Quality writting, lots of memorable moments, lots of fun.
Sam/Glamour made Celeste cry. He would pay for that. She wants to ridicule the place where Sam lives. To her surprice, Sam lives at the mansion. At the mutant mansion. She can´t ruin the entire mansion. But she is going to organize a paintball match as a cover for her destructive revenge.
To her surprise, Sam accepted her offer. But this time, she covered her surprise with a well practiced mask of indifference. Look the guest directly at its eyes, keep a smile on your lips. A ceremonial mask for a boring tradition with a big clown smile painted in bright colors. Imagining the scene, it looked just like a smiling tiki mask. "Aloha!" Now she had the advantage. They were in her territory, there was no way to lose. Each step was coldly calculated. Once all employees retired, Max closed the door. Sam inside. It was unlikely that he would accept, but it happened. Now her plan was on its way. Plan A, vandalism. "You will never forget the day you made Celeste Manfrella cry." She grinned mentally. Wickedly. Wicked was good. When all the bags were inside, Celeste moved even deeper into the limousine, carefully trying to move all her bags forward.
"Sam, where do you live?" The question was an essential part of her plan, but still she had to admit that was a bit curious. Where do commoners live? Her beautiful eyes fixed on him, covered by invisible lenses of "interests". Its small but cozy world was already in motion. It only needed to find a destination. And then... revenge. Best served cold. To ease the waiting, she approached the mini bar. That was not so mini. It occupied an entire wall of the limo, the other wall was occupied by the fine leather seats where they sat. Among the multitude of bottles of different sizes and contents, she grabbed two strange 750ml bottles. Then extended one to Sam. It was her favorite. Bling H20. Frosted glass. Handcrafted with Swarowsky crystals on "Bling". What would be his reaction? It was interesting to test him. To compete with him.
Bulletproof/tinted glasses. Soundproof Interior. Nothing could penetrate her dream world. Nothing could get out. She was trapped in there but she did not care. She felt secure. Out of sight. She dried her tears then closed her eyes. In her small modern palanquin, everything was within reach. Music, drinks, a nice controlled temperature. She did not need anything else. No one else. A small sound caught her attention. Celeste listened trying to find the source. It was so small, so weak, so fragile. Like her. She opened her eyes looking out. There was her knight. Willing to continue struggling against the ideals of greatness. He moved his lips. She could not hear him. "Kneel down and ask forgiveness." Her telepathic command was not accepted. With the push of a button, the glass gently slide. Leaving her exposed to the outside world. Face to face. "Can I drive you home?" She offered helpfully. She pressed another button. Max left the car without hesitation. He walked by Sam´s side and opened the door with a feigned kindness. Once the door was opened, she thanked Sam with another fake smile."Thanks for bringing my bags." And took them away from him. Once again in her possession she deposit them with greatest care in the limousine. She looked like a bear protecting her puppies. She was at the entrance of the cave, her precious baby away from humans. While waiting impatiently for Sam to refuse (obviously he was going to say "no") she saw the arrival of the first two employees carrying several bags. Behind them came more employees. One after another they entered the bags. Each bag had a different piece of clothing in all colors. Even shoes.
No matter how many times she told herself that phrase, it do not delete these images. "It was just a dream." She repeated it again. Again and again. Still yawning and stretching she went to the kitchen. She did not want to wake up Andrew. She could make something simple until breakfast. French toast would do the trick. While cooking, every part of her dream was repeated over and over again. An endless sequence she could not get out of her head.
It was October 20. 2007. Once again. She was about to go to sleep. She was wearing a beautiful silk pajama. Two pieces. She could not remember its color. Celeste was a spectator in her own life. It was a dream. She saw everything as if she was a ghost. Floating above her head. Away from her body. Although she could move freely to analyze the scene from different angles, she felt chained to the room. She was tied to that moment and place. Even when she tried with such efforts to see her face, it was all blurred. Some things had no color, others were almost invisible in the dim light of the room. Demons were lurking in the shadows. Everywhere. Waiting to devour the rest of the scene. The girl in her dream was about to end her daily habit of brushing her hair. She always did it before bedtime. Her movements were slow. It was a very important ritual for her. The scene was warm, simple. Just seeing it, her heart filled with calm, even though some elements were scary as the face blurred, missed colors and low light.
Suddenly a sound filled the scene. Not only her room. That sound penetrated all layers of reality, expanding infinitely. It was deafening. The sounds was impossible. At one point sounded like a mechanical sound product of many gears and chains in movement, the next moment it sounded like a wounded animal screaming in pain. It was the phone. She could not determine how much time had passed since the initial ring, and the moment were someone picked the phone. Perhaps centuries. The phone ringing at that time was common. But somehow this time, the sound was different. She was scared. She did not know what to expect from that call. Both felt the same. A morbid curiosity commanded her to stand up. She was afraid. Scared. But at the same time extremely curious. She floated behind her back. A succession of words came to her ears. To where she was waiting, at the door of her room. Single words. Nicola. Her grandfather. Death. Disease. Family business. Responsibility. Loyalty. Almost a secret code. Someone cried. Her mother. Her father listened seriously, but clearly affected by the news. The call ended. At that time Celeste had not the slightest idea about what they meant. Now, four years later, Celeste had a much clearer idea of that call. Her father would take care of everything: the family business. Drugs. Firearms. Any shady business in Italy was linked to the family. No authority could prove it in a fair trial. After that night, everything changed. Her father would fly every week to Italy. Missing all her life. Her mother, also accompanied him. The worst thing was knowing that her beloved grandfather was nothing but a gangster. How anyone could be so good yet so bad at the same time? When he was with her, he always behaved as the best human being on the planet. And now the reality was a hard big wall, and there was no way to dodge it. Anyway, the truth was undeniable and extremely painful. Her grandfather was dead. Later that night she picked the wireless phone, carrier of bad news, and threw it through the window. All its part scattered.The machine meet its creator.
She finished the rest of her breakfast in silence. Thinking. The toasts were perfect. They never tasted worse. All would die. Like her grandfather. All. Even she. How could she live forever? Painting? Writing the greatest sonata of all times? Managing to create a piece of art worthy of eternity? Nothing was enough.
Tears began to escape from her eyes, at first slowly and then these damn tears accelerated in a frantic race through her young face. She did not even noticed when he disappeared back into the dressing room. The tears would not stop. Silently. Cold. Relentless. Celeste did not manage to say a single word, not even dare to move for a while. She feared the whole world would fall apart if she moved. Like a sand castle. She saw how it happened in her mind. The walls collapsing around her, first in small pieces, then large parts of the size of a human head crumbled. She imagined how everything was destroyed slowly, without a single sound and an incredible slow speed. Everything following that pattern. Starting with small parts and then increasing in progression. She just stayed there, standing in silence waiting for everything to end. Hoping to wake up. She did not wake up. It was not a dream. She closed her eyes. More tears fell from them. Then she wished with all her might to wake up. Nothing happened. Everything was in the same place. She needed to get away. Run. To never see Sam again. Or anyone else who could remind her about her grandfather.
She was not crying anymore. There were tears on her face. Her eyes were red. Her sight blurred. She walked rapidly toward the cash register, the store manager ran hastily to meet her. Without understanding what was happening. Awaiting orders. The queen spoke. "Carry my bags to the car, do not let Sam go away without his new clothes." Her voice still cracking with sadness. Her spirit defeated. The little devil used one of her many debit cards. She paid for everything. Plus twenty percent tips. Then left the store. A man wearing a black suit and sunglasses, waited outside the store. He was Max. Short for... she did not know. Neither care. He walked her to the end of the sidewalk, where his driver was waiting for them. In a Chrysler 300c limo. "God bless America". He opened the door like a gentleman. She paid for that. Celeste jumped in, delighted to be protected in its luxurious carriage once again. Only hoping the employees will take all her stuff to the limousine quickly. What took they so long?
Celeste refused to accept his plea. How could she let him go around with those dangerous ideas? Who wants to be normal? She repeated the word in her head without moving her lips. Normal. Conforming to the standard or the common type. In other words, a mere commoner. Of course, Celeste did not understand it and will never understand these ideas. With the clear intention of interrupting her thoughts, Jessica nodded and shook her head trying to follow their ideological discussion. How disrespectful of her. No one had asked her opinion. Another simple commoner without influence in the world. Her growing anger faded away at the same time a feeling buried deep inside made it´s way to the surface. She lost her energy. The change also affected her voice. It was soft and sad. Far from her powerful screams. "Sam, would you like to die without leaving a trace in the world?" Her eyes were clearly wet. "As my grandfather." The memory of her grandfather always left a bad taste in her mouth, along with a crazy need to leave something behind. To become someone important, like her father. Someone people might remember years after his death. Eternally.
Her squire was promoted to knight. A pleasant pride flourished on her chest, but that feeling was not strong enough. Her pride was soon devoured by a brutal shadow. Why ordinary people work so hard to contradict her? What good might it bring? None. They were just delaying the inevitable. Making her annoyed and impatient. In the end, everyone did what she wanted. When will they learn? She filled her lungs with the intention of devoting a sigh to the world that did not magically molded to her whims, but at the last moment she successfully held her sigh of protest. Without thinking, she directed all that repressed energy in her answer. "No." It sounded strong and heavy. In that one word she showed her anger and frustration at the refusal of the people to accept her words as reality. He did not mean to make her angry. She realized her mistake and quickly softened her tone, making it sound much nicer. In Celeste that tone sounded really strange. "I'm not really sure of seeing the same person. Are you Sam? " It was a silly joke, even childish but what made it worse was that caramel tone. She could catch flies talking like that.
Hasty, in order to set aside that last meaningless phrase, she continued without waiting for his answer. Using her vast knowledge to fill the gap. "Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on Society ." She recited the words by heart. How many times have she hear that phrase throughout her short life? Many more times than she remembered. Mainly from her fat and boring Aunt Augusta. A cold shiver ran down her back. She sounded exactly like her old aunt.
