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.
Even for mutants with superpowers and checkered pasts, adulthood was a scary proposition. ”Well, we got used to the other stuff. I’m still coming to terms with the fact that I survived long enough for this real-life stuff to matter,” he joked.
Relaxing in the seat, somehow he did feel better about the choice he was making. He had been a criminal, a teacher, a shadow organization organizer, and a halfway decent friend. He got through that with the support of friends like Sveta.
He would do that with this next chapter, too. He would make it a point to keep in touch with Sveta. They would visit for major events, weddings (hopefully), and maybe just when it had been too long since a visit and a night of drinking. ”Yeah,” he said more confidently, smirking at the future ahead of them. ”Worst comes to worst, we’ll make it up as we go.”
Getting through the main throughways of the Museum was easy enough; the main halls accommodate constant traffic during the day, so they could not be armed to the teeth with security measures. Being a shadow made standard measures easy enough to avoid. The real challenge came with removing the piece she wanted to steal, and that determined whether she had to sneak out or rush away.
Stephanie was never big on modern art, honestly. As a photographer, she liked bringing art out of reality, and modern art rarely cared about anything real. If she were starting a collection, a sculpture like the one she was looking to steal would not be high on her list, but she was not going to ignore a market demand for a wavy white sculpture that looked like it was melting.
As she approached the pedestal, the flat shadow reformed into her familiar, humanoid shape. She enjoyed the versatility of her shadowform, but it was still new, and she had more control over her shadow as an extension of her rather than her body as a shadow.
The shadow crawled up the pedestal, creeping onto the smooth surface where the statuette rested. The motion sensors did not catch her, because the shadow had no mass to cross them. The shadow formed around the statue, lifting it up and applying pressure to the spot where it originally rested. She did not want a noticeable shift in the weight on the pedestal.
The shadow branched back toward its owner, leading the statuette into her gloved hands. Perfect. She judged the weight of the object; if there was some sensor in the platform, her belt might actually do the trick whatever the artist made this tchotchke out of, it was not as heavy as she would have assumed.
Unbuckling her belt and pulling a flashlight out of a pocket, she let her shadow take the belt away with the intention of carefully leaving the belt and the expendable, non-descript tools inside in place of the expensive paperweight. She had to admit; this was going well so far, even for her.
It was important as a mutant thief not to rely too strongly on your mutation. Silhouette’s powers failed her in dark rooms, but there were also adapteds running around this universe, as uncommon as they may be. She had to be as competent a thief as any human, with or without powers, or she should not be putting herself in these situations with Malia waiting at home.
With no footsteps echoing in the upcoming halls, Silhouette walked quickly with her soft-soled shoes, but she felt relatively safe. She did let her mind wander to her sitter for the night. Victoria seemed like a sweetheart, but you never knew! She was only three years younger than Steph, and Steph barely felt like she knew what she was doing. How would that peppy little sophomore handle a crisis? What if she started smoking around the baby?
Stephanie was torn between her aversion to security cameras and her overbearing desire to invest in a nanny cam. Maybe when her fence came through for her after this job.
The European Sculptures wing was low-lit, but it was enough that Silhouette could feel her shadow again. Glancing around at the door behind her and the large space ahead, no one seemed to be in her immediate field of vision. She was, to her knowledge, standing in a small deadspace between camera angles, so she made the choice to let her physical body melt into living shadow. She sank into the floor, leaving just enough of her form manifested physically to hold the belt she wore when in a humanoid form.
Assuming that crew of goons was barging their way into the American Art wing, there should be no guards between here and Modern Art. The shadow glided across the ground, feeling confident in her planning, but ready for whatever unseen variable might come in the next room.
Stephanie remembered her life before she could shift into shadows. Using her shadow as a tool was always helpful, giving her use on the streets and sneaking wallets out of purses and pockets. She was finally getting some mastery of those powers when some scumbag tried to push his luck, awakening an evolution in her mutation.
Now Stephanie saw the potential to think bigger. Being a shadow made her inherently stealthy and protected from most attacks. Suddenly, security systems and armed guards were a threat but not a dealbreaker. She was opening up a path for herself and Malia; the potential for a comfortable life.
And sure, maybe he enjoyed the thrill. How could she not? She was a disconnected shadow gliding across the great hall, moving toward Medieval Art and slipping through security cameras who could barely pick her out against the patterns of the floor.
Of course, nothing was perfect and Silhouette had her limitations. The Medieval wing was dark; too dark for her to remain in shadowform. Shifting back, Silhouette kept in mind the cameras she had scouted out in a previous scouting trip. She stuck to the walls when she could, making her way down the long hall of antiquated art. Her target was not in this hall, so she moved toward the exit.
Before she stepped through the door, she heard footsteps. The benefit of her human form was a return to full senses. Keeping close to the edge of the doorway, Silhouette waited until the steps came close enough for her to act, and act fast. Catching the guard as he walked around the corner, she got behind him, using one arm to wrap around his neck and the other to keep him away from his radio or weapon.
It took time and effort and Silhouette was not a specimen of peak physical excellence, but she knew where to apply pressure. With a thud, the guard hit the ground unconscious, and the thief breathed a quiet sigh of relief. He would not stay down forever, so her trip was on a timer, making it all the more important to get to the Contemporary Art wing ASAP.
Nate was good for a snarky comment, but with Sveta, it was all in good fun. She could deal with his teasing, and he knew when she might need some levity to help with the things weighing on her mind. She was a skeptic and had reason to be. Nate was a realist who wanted to be an optimist when it came to the people who mattered.
”Hey, things have been turning up gold for us lately. Why not be a little hopeful?” He sipped his wine, and with a smirk added, ”And if he ghosts you again? I have no qualms hunting a guy down.” That was mostly a joke.
Really, he understood her apprehension. As much as he carried himself with that easy assuredness, he had his own concerns. What if he ended up failing as a father? What if he and Nat grew to hate each other? What if he could not find his own success in Chicago?
That was why he chose to be optimistic; because it would be too easy to get lost in the doubt otherwise. ”Really though… we’re gonna be good, right? We’ve survived a hell of a lot. I think we’ve got this, yeah?” There was a hint of vulnerability in that reaffirming, because he wanted more than anything to be right.
An important part of being a criminal was utilizing your resources. This was a problem when you woke up in the wrong universe fifteen years in your future. Steph was working from the ground-floor-up, but she did have her skills, which was something she could rely on.
Being young, attractive, and smart also opened a lot of doors and mouths. She wondered what kind of network thirty-three-year-old Stephanie had at her disposal, but it was ultimately irrelevant. The people she worked with would not have known her real name, and as far as she could tell, Silhouette never became a player in the criminal network in this world. She was a new actress in the play, and she was going to start fresh and make a big debut.
Through a rumor obtained by a fence in The Village, Stephanie caught onto a plan some local gang was putting together to steal from one of the city’s art museums. She would not be caught dead trying to work her way into a job like that; it sounded like too many moving parts and too many people who were outside of their skillset. Some criminals underestimated the high threshold of execution when it came to art theft and lacked the finesse to do the job right.
And so, while those dolts stole attention away, Silhouette would plan her own get under everyone’s noses.
The target was bigger than she would give a group like that credit for. The Met? Heck, even her world had The Met. They were in over their heads, but Steph could get in, snag the painting she had picked out in her research, and slip out. She might let herself get caught on camera in her shadowed form—perhaps to build her reputation? Okay, maybe that was a little reckless when she could take advantage of anonymity for a while. Famous thieves played a dangerous game, but she was eighteen and a little too confident for her own good.
For instance, she was too confident to realize that while her universe had The Metropolitan Museum of Art, it did not have The Met Cloisters. It was a smaller offshoot museum of The Met, and unbeknownst to the cat burglar preparing her heist, that was what the other thieves were planning to hit.
Checking a watch she then stowed away in a pouch she kept on her belt, Silhouette was certain the team of thieves would be making their appearance soon, if her intel on their plans was close to accurate. Regardless, she was a professional and was ready to commence with her plan.
Letting her body melt into shadow, along with the skin-tight suit she wore, the only aspects of Steph to not transform with her were the belt resting on her hips and the items tied to it. She had to be careful with those; the last thing she needed to do was leave her helpful tools somewhere because her body changed form and abandoned her belt.
This next part… she was still getting used to. She was no more than 100 feet from the lobby of The Met, which she had learned in her testing to be her limit for this. If she could take a deep breath, she would, but since Silhouette in Shadowform could not breathe, she just plunged into one of the shadows cast in the alley she was in.
It was nearly instant, and on instinct, Silhouette felt the pull of a shadow she was sure was in The Metropolitan.
It was; it was just being cast in the security office.
Okay, so this was not an exact science yet. The guard turned, curious by the shift in light behind him, but before he could should, a snakelike shadow arm wrapped around his head, covering his mouth and nose, holding him as he struggled until he was finally out.
That was close. She would tie him up quick and throw him in the closet, but she could not dally; the other guards would come back around soon. Before she slipped out, she did spare a glance at the screens. Odd; was the other group not here yet? Honestly, amateurs.
She was a professional. She slipped out of the office and slinked her way along the walls of the museum, heading toward the wing of her choosing. Sneak in, sneak out, easy score.
Nate remembered when Matt came into Sveta’s life. It brought a breath of fresh air to a woman who deserved something good. Matt sounded like someone good, but then he vanished. Nate was there to help Sveta deal with that.
When Matt vanished, Nate had some unkind thoughts toward the Adapted. Nothing against him as a person, but no guy was going to be happy with the person who ghosted his best friend. It was comforting, then, to find out he was not actually doing that.
Instead, his reason was something Nate genuinely couldn’t fault him for. ”That old story, eh? Yeah, that explanation was tough to explain to Sarah and Quin,” he admitted, remembering his return to the world. ”Though based on things… developing, I say you handled the situation just fine. See, you don’t even need me around for advice. You’ve got this.”
Nate looked at his wine glass before holding it up toward Sveta as a toast. ”To second chances we both deserve.”
With the weighty conversation out of the way for the moment, it really did feel like any other day of relaxing with his friend, drinking, and catching up. Nate liked that; how relaxed he could be here. Sveta deserved so much more than the world gave her. If it got out of line and mistreated her again, he'd be on the first flight from Chicago to pick a fight with all of New York.
Thankfully, not everything was gloom and doom and bad news. Evidently, someone from Sveta's past had made a surprise reappearance. Nate thought through the options in his head. Clearly happy news, clearly romantically relevant, and clearly "better than a mutant."
It clicked and Nate grinned. "The adapted. Matt?" It was fortunate that his life experiences made him good with names. "How did that go? Awkward or... better than awkward?" He remembered meeting Nat again was more than awkward, but something gave Nate the feeling Sveta would not be grinning if things went that poorly.
It was clear Sveta was disappointed, and Nate expected that going into their conversation. If the roles were reversed, it would hurt Nate to see his best friend leave New York. Still, if it was to be with family, he would have supported her. He knew she would do the same, even if it was through gritted teeth.
And she did. Nate could see his reasoning sinking in as Sveta herself sank into the cushions of the couch. Smiling, Nate joined her, relaxing when he realized she would not be fighting him on his decision.
"Please, I thrive on the drama. Really, this is a sacrifice; how bored will I be in Chicago?" He sipped his wine, chuckling to himself at the thought of his relocation. "I won't even have crime to fall back on like last time. No giant mutant turkeys? No mutant love triangles? No tipsy makeouts in dark rooms to prevent shadow monsters?" he added with a more mischievous grin.
It had been a stroke of creative genius when they realized they could do that without Sveta hyperboosting Nate's powers. They were definitely just friends, but it was a harmless good night, and she had a hard enough time finding people she could safely share things like that with. "Though I'm sure you'll make due and find yourself a nice human or something, meanwhile I'll be living the domestic life. Who'd have thunk it?"
Life had been oddly quiet, which was just fine by Stephanie Graves. Her and Malia were keeping their heads down and adjusting to life in a new universe. It was challenging, but every time she felt the struggle of starting fresh, Stephanie remembered the one thing that mattered: Poseidon was gone.
She was careful confirming the news. After the rift between worlds closed, Stephanie spoke to Jayda. She confirmed what happened to her brother and gave Stephanie the opportunity to end her eternal indentured servitude.
Worried someone would still come looking for her, Stephanie was using a fake name in this new world. Natasha was getting by working as a freelance photographer. It was a humbler life than her studio in her old world, but after the life she had endured to this point, she would gladly take humble and run-of-the-mill.
“Hello, Miss. Fancy talent that kid of yours has.”
Natasha was ready to ignore the passerby on the quiet side street. It was getting late and Natasha did not want to deal with some rando questioning her child’s powers. Unfortunately, Malia had adopted an outgoing attitude much to her mother’s chagrin. “Thank you, ma’am!”
Sighing, Natasha stopped and turned to see the woman in the long coat. She was surprised at the youthful appearance of the stranger. “Can we help you with anything?”
“It’s good to see young mutants. It’s a reminder of the future,” she said with a warm smile. “We are inevitable, after all. Mutantkind is young and growing, and humanity is old, withering, and dying.”
Well, Natasha was unsure of how to take that… on the one hand, at least she was not dealing with an anti-mutant nutjob. On the other, the reasoning was a bit extreme, and almost… well, Syndicate-like. “Well, not all of us are so young,” she joked, wanting to just get Malia home as soon as possible, “but it’s nice to hear that optimism.”
“Ah good, so you’re both mutants. But you’ve lived a challenging life—it’s clear in your eyes.”
Natasha squirmed; she knew the last decade of stress, smoking, and drinking were starting to age her, but she did not like the way the woman spoke of her experiences. “Thank you, but I think we must be off. Have a—”
The woman moved faster than Natasha expected. Attempting to get her shadow in front of her and Malia, she was ready to spring into action.
And then the lamplight flickered, and her shadow dissolved. She felt the pricking of a needle, and things started to fade. As they faded, she raised a confused, frustrated hand as the woman walked toward Malia…
Blinking at the light of a lamp, Stephanie groggily came to, trying to get her surroundings. What was the last thing she remembered. Was she on a job? Busted?
The eighteen-year-old felt bricks against her back, and it finally occurred to her that she was left in an alley somewhere. How did she even get somewhere like this? In her lap, much to her shock, was her infant child, Malia. Why the absolute hell was Malia with her? She would never take the baby into danger.
Feeling the anxious pulses through her as she tried to get her bearings, Stephanie held her child close and got to her feet. Information. Contacts. Wherever she was, there must have been something that led to her being there, unconscious but alone and seemingly unharmed. Until she had the facts, she had to be cautious of who she trusted and what she did.
She needed to figure out what happened to her and fast.
When you knew someone for years, you developed an understanding that was rare. Two people could work through wildly different backgrounds and life experiences and reach a point where a true connection was formed.
It also made this hard. Life was full of almosts and never weres and with all they had gone through, there was a pang I'm Nate's heart knowing that was what they were. They could stay friends and they could talk, but a door was closing. A chapter, and one Nate would always look back on fondly.
Nate saw the tears in Quin's eyes, and as she gave him the credit she thought he deserved, he felt the welling up in his own eyes, too.
He appreciated her light-hearted compliment for the wine. Nate chuckled. "Well, I have kinda been sitting on this bottle. Since... I stole it from some tech mogul's cellar twelve years ago," he admitted. Among his criminal activities, this one was one of the more light-hearted.
"If it helps, the guy was an asshole. Besides, it seemed important to have one really good bottle of wine for when I had an occasion important enough and people important enough to share it with." He sipped his wine and smiled. "So if you can overlook the product of my checkered past just this once, I'd appreciate it."
Sveta was taking the news… well, about as well as he expected she might. Nate was fully aware he was dropping a bomb, and he had to be ready for the fallout. ”Devon does know. I talked with him at length about my decision. This bottle was full at the start of the day.” He had four difficult conversations to get through, and four friendships to celebrate.
It was hard to explain his choices, but he hoped she could understand. ”I want to give Norah a chance to grow up with two parents who love her. I want to see if Nat and I really have a chance of making things work. And the only place I can do that… is freaking Chicago.”
Nate looked down at his glass. ”This isn’t an easy choice, Sveta. I love New York. I wouldn’t leave my friends—my best friends lightly. I hope you know that.”
Nate was not making things clear for Sveta, but that was because he was unsure of how to proceed here. How did he break this kind of news to a woman who he was genuinely seeing as a best friend? Even now, she was clearly concerned and confused about why Nate would be celebrating his daughter staying in Chicago.
"That little girl has become so important to me. I always had a hard time picturing myself as a father, even when things with Quin were at their best," he admitted, remembering that younger version of him. He was so concerned with his new, tidy life falling apart, he could never spare time for the kind of man he would be as a father. He was barely off his old ways as a criminal? Why would he think about raising a kid?
Except the responsibility of fatherhood changed Nate. "I would do anything for that little girl. I want the best possible life for her. That's why... I'm going to be moving out to Chicago. Stepping down from Haven, picking up my life, and hopping on a plane this weekend."
This was hard, and Nate knew it was going to be hard. What he did not want to be was the kind of man who avoided a moment like this to save himself from the pain of saying goodbye. It was just hard because he knew his pain came from knowing he was causing Quin pain.
”Norah is an important part of my life, and her life is in Chicago. It’s where she grew up, and it’s where her mom is. I want to be part of her life, and I want her to grow up with her mom and dad… however we end up.” Moving, he did want to see if he and Natalie could really make things work, not just for Norah’s sake, but if they could not, he still wanted to co-parent with her. He wanted Norah to grow up with a family.
”And I saved you for last because saying goodbye to you sucks,” he admitted. ”I don’t want to say ‘in another life,’ because that doesn’t make things hurt less, and I know that.”
Nate held his glass up—the last of an incredibly expensive vintage he might never have again. ”But I wanted to say goodbye because you literally changed my life, Quin. I’m not as big on destiny, but you were someone I know I was supposed to have in my life. And I don’t want to make this sound so final; it’s twenty-nineteen and I’ll be a call or text or facetime away.” It was not final, but he knew moving halfway across the country and giving things a chance with the mother of his child, he was finally putting an end to their cycle of almost making things work. That hurt, and it did not just hurt her.
”But, I guess I wanted to thank you for everything. Being with you… heck, knowing you. I wouldn’t trade that for anything.”
