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.
Michael was not able to wait without doing something. He solved and put back together the brain teaser enough times for it to be considered boring, so he pocketed that in the little pocket with his handkerchief. After all, why else would there be a pocket there? Obviously, pockets were meant to be there so that you could put myriad puzzles and games away. He shifted from foot to foot, and nearly had a heart attack when his own two feet weren’t the only ones on the ground. He half expected the loud footsteps of his drunken father...just something in the back of his mind still made him believe that it was possible, but instead it was the heals of a lady that clicked against the uneven ground.
Michael turned his body, and lifted his head only momentarily to see that she was wearing a dress. It was a nice white dress. A compliment? Yes. Kat had versed him on the art of providing compliments...what to say? He was looking at her feet, so it was only natural that the compliment should come from his inherent need to look down. He cleared his throat, and a few moments after, he spoke to her. “Your shoes make a noise against the ground that’s different from my fathers.” And then nodded. Yes, that was a very lovely compliment. He hated his father, and the opposite of hate, was like. Anyone could understand that.
His voice was childish, of course, as he’d clearly not had a change in his voice yet, and his demeanor was as well. Despite all of Kat’s work to pretty him up, and place him in slightly comical adult situations, Michael had the rounded cheeks of a child yet. So much that he mumbled when he spoke, and the rose he held for her was handed to her as though the item was burning a hole through his hand, and he must be rid of it quickly. Soon, Michael was distracted yet again.
The revolving doors. Ah yes, the pinnacle of technology designed to make things more efficient. He remembered that for about a month he had a love for transportation methods. The revolving door always seemed like some kind of pinball game gone wrong. Still holding the flower out, since he didn’t realize that he was quite a bit farther away from Maxine than anticipated, he was forced to used his non-dominant hand to occupy his need to tug on something.
Occaisionally it happened that Michael needed to pull something, just as a reason to keep himself grounded, and not to get too self-assured.And this was of course the reason he started to tug a bit of his hair free from the grasp of the combed look it had before.. As he stared at the revolving doors, he mumbled something, slightly hard to hear. “Revolving doors are more efficient to prevent drafts and they can transport suitcases and larger families at times...this one is smaller. So it just prevents drafts.” He could sound like a know-it-all, sure, but Mikey was extremely nervous, and it was apparent in his voice. In fact, the little boy was actually shaking. He continued holding the Rose out, still tugging on his hair with his non-dominant hand.
He wasn’t aware of people generally when he got absorbed with games. Michael was just able to get into them. So long as there was some bit of logic behind a game, he could get his mind interested in it. Tetris was completely logical, and it was a puzzle that he couldn’t predict. However, he wanted to. He really, really wanted to try and figure out how to predict what one was coming next, so an idea had struck him the other day. Why not write down the shapes that come down?
He watched the game a bit, and then wrote down every single shape that he’d seen appear. Through some drawings and a bit of work, he managed to document every game that he’d played, and the shapes that appeared in his little tetris window. This he’d written down, and arranged in a small little notebook of his, then he assigned them to different things. A single straight line of 4 cubes would be assigned a number, 4 in this case, and every time he saw it, he wrote down a four.
The boy had been doing this for days and days whenever he played. He wrote down the numbers, and he wrote down when the numbers started. Or rather, he put a small arrow in and it marked the place where the game had been turned on, and where the game had been turned off. In this way, he could make a true pattern. It was easier for him to work with numbers than anything else, so this was proving beneficial. The little boy, against his tree near the mansion walls, mumbled a bit to himself. He was getting a few ideas.
As he took his pencil and his paper out, to start and make his patterns, he realized that he’d been ignoring a very important bit. Color. The tetris pieces all had color in them, and who was he to ignore that? So, he paused the game that he was playing, and then he started to write the colors down. He’d seen blues, reds, greens, yellows, and he’d seen a light blue too. He arranged them in a certain order on the paper: Blue, Red, Green, Yellow, Light Blue. Then, he wrote numbers next to them in descending order. You know, 0-5. Blue was of course zero.
Michael was pretty absorbed in this, and he didn’t really noticed that there was a girl moving past him. He stared at her for a moment. He was able to do this, of course, because she wasn’t looking directly back at him. He didn’t really care if the girl heard him or not, but he started to categorize her. He was busy with his little numbers game, and had a bit of a game now with her. She was blonde, that was yellow. So, she’d be a number ‘3.’ And....how old was she? She looked like she was sixteen. Well...four times four is sixteen, so she would be whatever four was. Four was that straight line of blocks. So therefore: She was a class 3-line. “3-line...she’s 3-line. Not a very good three-line...she probably wouldn’t fit.”
He was laughing at his own joke...just not really on the outside. The boy didn’t normally smile or laugh, because it really wasn’t in him. Lots of things were funny, but not many of them made him amused enough to show it. Laughing in front of his abusive father often earned him a few wallops, and they hurt more than anything else. Therefore, his voice was dry, as though he was insulting someone, and he did sound pretty unsympathetic.
Michael was terrified of many things, and taking an actual class was one of them. Luckily, he didn’t have to really go an interact with people just yet. It was a skill he perfected called: run. Of course, he wasn’t very fast, so he had very interesting ways of running. For instance, he had a lot of leggos, and he took careful time leading a trail of leggos in the opposite direction that he went. These leggos were of course to lead them to the bathroom or something. And then he used the real method he had of getting back: He forgot.
Well the fact that he forgot wasn’t really a big issue. For some reason, they wouldn’t let him have the blueprints to the whole school so he could piece it together, so the boy still hadn’t managed to solve the puzzle of the school. He looked around for something that he could sit nearby, and the little gloved boy managed to locate a tree. It was a good sized tree, with the most important thing of all. A small little niche in the curving of the tree that would make it easier to curl up.
As a present from someone who was trying to buy his affections, Michael received a game for his brand new gameboy. Or rather, new to him. Koga had given it to him, and though the game player was a little bit old, it was the best thing he’d ever owned. The little mikey was playing the game, and had gotten a lot farther than most adults could. It was nothing more than a math game, and yet...he was making it easier than it ever should have been. In fact, he was working on a particularly hard problem in his head at the moment.
This was the algebra edition, and it took some careful planning, so he stared at the problem for a moment. He started to click some buttons, getting the right answer typed in, a matter of minutes and he was done. The boy let himself make a small smile as he solved it, saved the game, and then he changed it. He wanted to play another game. He pulled out of his fanny pack another game. He looked at the game it was, and then put it in. It was a fun game called tetris. The boy put this game in and started to play it as well, happily avoiding everyone.
I...I want Michael to be brought back into threads and things again! I know that threads I had with other people were neglected, but I'll do better. I swear it. So...please plot with me. Michael's a little sweetheart. He loves people!! Let me know!
Koga may not have realized that what he said was that important, but Michael had just heard some magic words. Dad was wrong. Dad was wrong? Michael took a second to think about that, then shook it out of his head as he looked back up to Koga, listening to what seemed to be fairy tails. A Ds. It was a game with two screens. Did he get both screens to look at? And how did the blocks disappear in tetris? Such mysteries had to be solved.
Michael walked to Koga’s room with him, actually, his tiny hand was on the back of Koga’s shirt. He’d gotten lost far too many times to be able to just pay attention to where Koga was going. As they sat down together in the room, and Koga explained the equipment, Michael zoned into his puzzle mode. He understood it very quickly and started to play. When Koga went to show him the room number, Michael barely noticed he’d even stood up. He was just very very focused on this DS game.
He watched as Sam opened the tube filled with something unidentifiable, and he steeled himself so that he wouldn’t be nervous. As he did look down at this tube, his brown hair kept on falling into his face. He hadn’t cut it in a while, because he hadn’t been too keen on scissors lately. Scissors really just didn’t mix well with him sometimes, and he’d grazed his face, as well as clipped his ear one too many times. Michael let his leg slowly, slowly move down to give Sam more access, but he didn’t look very pleased about it.
Michael was amazed then…a miracle happened. He looked up at Sam with wide eyes. He asked if Michael had seen bleach before. Though he quickly, of course, looked down and away, he did manage to find something he could talk about, and maybe the other person would know for once. “I like bleach. I…I’ve seen all the episodes and all the movies and I drew a bunch of pictures of Ichigo because he’s my favorite. He is really weak and then…and then he gets stronger.” Michael wasn’t focused on the cream now, so his plan seemed to be working out just fine.
“Hitsugaya is short and small and strong…but he’s always been short and small and strong. And that’s boring.” He seemed to be getting more able to speak to Sam when it’s about a topic that he likes or knows about. It was just part of his condition. “I don’t really like any espada though, ‘cause they all grew up from eating other animals, and then they became really bad because of it. Getting strong by eating other people is bad.”
He would have talked more and then remembered something. He had to be good and not talk a lot about things. His dad used to complain about him always talking about a single subject, and not wanting to switch subjects…but it was hard. This was what interested him. Puzzles interested him, and these shows interested him as well. Everything about the show interested him. He stole a quick glance at Sam as he quieted down, and then looked at the stuff being put on his cuts. He nearly shied away at one point, seeing as it was a bit painful, and people touching him did get him a bit on edge, but at the moment, he trusted Sam.
He didn’t know WHY though, and that was the thing. He needed to find that reason. Michael looked at his feet for answers, thinking. Maybe it was because he rescued Michael from the big blue person in the hallway that made him scared. Or perhaps it was because he gave Michael clothes to wear. Whatever the case may be, he was trying to provide minimal squirming, though it was easy to see in the way he held himself that being touched by another person was a little bit different to him. Of course he’d been touched before and everything, but then the person had let go, and they were on their merry way with little care.
He started to bite his lip a little bit as the boy tugged on his hair, not sure what to do as he waited for Sam to be finished.
Michael was a bit confused at most of Koga's words, aside from the first bit, which made him a bit embarassed. He set down the puzzle he'd been working on, and then spoke again, slowly. It was stuttered words as well. Some things were hard for little boy's to say. "D...Daddy said that I wasn't smart...that puzzles didn't count."
In a way, he was taking the compliment, and in another way, he wasn't sure how to respond to getting such a compliment.
Then the next bit confused him. He thought for a moment. He didn't know what those things were. What was tetriss? And...and what was a DS? He was interested in the puzzle games, though. The boy spoke up after a moment. "I...I dunno what a tetris or a DS is...but I like puzzle games a lot"
Michaels eyes were still rather solemn and scared. He moved a bit into his own room, and it seemed from his movements that he felt he was trespassing. He shivered a little bit and the boy pulled the towel down to wrap around himself. He had an additive to his room..it was warmer in here. Being so small and skinny, he’d get chilled very, very easily, so it was pretty warm inside, that way his vitals would remain constant. Michael bit his lip and then looked over at Sam on his bed.
The room was as he remembered leaving it. He moved over to where the computer was before anything else and turned it on. Or rather, the monitor was turned on. The computer had just been in somewhat of a sleep mode. So, when it turned on, the image he was looking for came on. Other kids for their background probably had an image of their father or something, maybe a family member they missed. Michael had an image of ichigo, from bleach. Ichigo was an awesome character, after all.
He had that set up, and then turned a little bit. It seemed that Sam wanted to...to clean his wounds for him. This cause a bit of a shock in the little boy’s brain. He fidgeted a little bit. No one else had wanted to bandage him up before, he’d always done it on his own. The boy voiced that, looking at the ground as he tugged his hair a little bit, which was still quite wet.
“I...I never...no one asked me to...no one’s ever wanted to fix the cuts.”
He was trying to find the right words to say, and it wasn’t really working out in any way. He let out a small breath. Right. Bravery. He forged onwards into this new territory, and michael slowly sat down just in front of Sam. Still cautious, one knee was up in front of him, that way he knew that...well...his knee was there, and he could block an offensive maneuver. Sam was still more trusted than others, however. With those he didn’t trust, both knees were up, and his arms were wrapped around both legs, to keep them there. So he kind of curled up in a little ball, oftentimes.
He listened carefully to what Koga said, and then he thought about it. He'd never once tried to fix a puzzle, or mend something that seemed to be broken, but fit together in a pattern to make his brain smarter. His head wasn’t too...small, so his brain couldn’t be small either, but he did wonder what would happen if the muscles in his brain got a workout. Would his brain just..suddenly get bigger? Michael pulled on his hair again with his troubling thought, but soon spoke to Koga once more. “M..my brain doesn’t need to work out. I...I just like to play.”
Playing was fun. When he played, thinking of all the bad times, and all the bad things seemed to be harder. He had to search for things that would fill his need to do something, and puzzles answered his call. He could complete the hardest puzzle in the world, which was made from an all white template. He’d never tried it, but it would be easy for him. He just knew which pieces had to go together.
Taking the puzzle back from Koga, he looked down at it, then set it gingerly on the floor. He wasn’t sure he wanted to reveal his secret...but he could. He’d figured out other things to do with rubix cubes, after all. “Then...then you have to draw a special pattern that you like on paper...a-and you have to try and make the sides look like that. Then...then you have more to do, and it’s fun again.” He wouldn’t mention the fact that he made puzzles for himself, little rubix cube flashcards. Some were legitimately impossible to do but for on one side, so he had to put those aside.
His secrets about his puzzles may or may not be showing Koga the nature of the little boy. It was a bit of an insight into the life of a little boy who needed to keep himself entertained for long periods of time. Leggo, rubix cubes, anything. He was searching to keep himself involved in “fun.”
The smile that grew on Sam’s face was rather surprising. He didn’t expect anyone to smile at him. He looked at the male’s face longer than he’d looked at any other person’s face before this, and then looked down and away quickly. It was hard to keep eye contact, after all. But he didn’t want to look away from Sam’s face, because the male was being really really kind, and he didn’t look at Michael with a sense of pity, which every other face had been filled with when he peeked. Michael returned the favor with a wimpy little twitch of his mouth, but not really a full smile. Full smiles were for people who were fully happy.
Such a large smile in all of the anime tv shows that he’d seen were always with groups of friends, or with achieving a goal. But he hadn’t got any friends, and the only goals he achieved were with his leggo’s. This was kind of like a goal, but he didn’t want Sam to think he was just..a grinning fool for no reason either, and couldn’t find a good excuse for letting the grin cover is face. It turned out that soon enough he didn’t have to worry about that at all.
Sam dropped a towel on his head, and for a moment he just stayed completely still, suddenly deprived of his vision, and with muffled hearing, but he brought his gloved hand, still soaked, and his un-gloved hand up to his head. He shifted the towel, his head peering out of it like a turtle might peer out of his shell. It was as though...everything was foreign to Michael. Considering his upbringing, it was amazing that he really even know how to go to the bathroom on his own. It wasn’t an important thing when you were just locked in your room, with nothing but leggo to play with. He knew how to use the bathroom, and to brush his teeth, and do those other things, because they were taught at a young age. Everything else? Well...it wasn’t anything he needed to worry about.
No one would see him, so he stopped combing his hair. His clothes would get dirty, but he didn’t need to fold or sort or do anything he didn’t want to do with them, so he just kept the same pair of clothes on. Here, he was noticed by people. He’d have to bathe, and take time to get into clothes that seemed reasonable, or comb his hair on his own. It was expected when you lived alone.
As Sam told him they’d go and find his room, Michael nodded and he moved forward a bit, following Sam. When the cold air from the hallway smacked him in the face, Michael’s hands decided it best to hold the towel firmly around himself, to protect from the cold air frostbite he’d surely get. He poked his little head into the hallway.
Left? No one.
Right? No one.
And so, he decided it was safe to be lead through the corridor, lit for those like him who needed to get somewhere during the nighttime. Michael and Sam continued only for a short bit until the stopped in front of Michaels room. The door was almost like any other, but on it was written, in a nice clear penmanship beneath the writing. “Child, single” so that people would understand that there was a younger mutant inside this door. When Sam opened the door, a few odd things could be seen.
One, the floor. It was normal but for the leggo he had scattered about. He hadn’t begun any classes yet, because he didn’t want to talk to people much, and holed himself away in here. Two, the bed. It wasn’t really that used. Instead, there was a pillow on a desk, and the chair just near it, with a computer to the side as well. It seemed that he was intrigued by the computer, and evidently fell asleep on the desk. It was habit from at home, when he’d fall asleep next to his own computer, or occasionally the television. Michael moved into the room, stepping over and through his leggo contraptions. He was going to go to his desk to sleep. The bed was so...open. And weird. The sheets were all white, with nothing leggo or Michael friendly about them. Maybe dinosaur sheets would have been better. Or sheets with something other than plain white fabric. It wasn’t friendly, and he could fall asleep next to any image he wanted on the computer. Of course, within reason. There were lots of gaurds and such on his computer to be sure he’d only get to sites that were...er...Michael friendly.
Michael watched Koga's skin as it changed and he moved a bit closer than he had been before, watching how the colors changed when he did. The boy shifted a bit, looking at Koga with bright eyes as Koga's eyes remained focused on what he was doing with the Rubix cube. He did not know what to think of this person at the moment, but he was nice enough when he was changing into the color blue. He did like blue, after all. And as long as he didn't turn completely black, Michael would be fine. He did not trust things that were completely black. Black was a color that could hide any other color or stain of some sort.
He soon become not interested in Koga's solving the puzzle he'd done, and started to idly pick at one of the scabs on his legs. It was really bothering him at the moment, and was rather itchy. He did not really pay attention to social cues, nor could he really connect that Koga was changing blue just for him. It was a nice blue color, and he appreciated it, but his world at the moment was very inverted, and selfish. He assumed others felt that way too, so maybe Koga just happened to like the color blue or something. After some silence, he spoke again. "D...do you...like puzzles?" Tentative question. He hoped the answer would be yes.
Michael had been nervous throughout the entire auction, but nothing compared to how nervous he was now. He had been convinced that the auction would happen entirely inside the school. A date of some kind would consist of maybe playing outside? Going for a ride in the really cool space craft they had under the basketball courts? Instead, the little brown haired boy found himself in front of...somewhere. It had locked doors that looked really shiny. His hair was combed back, most likely on the way over, so it seemed a bit bumpy and messy, but most importantly his eyes were staring straight at the doors.
Yes, this was most unusual for him. He didn’t like to stare at things. The more he stared at them, the more they stared back at him. So seeing his reflection, he turned his head down to the rather shiny, yet still small, black leather shoes adorning his feet. These shoes really did complete the outfit in a splended manner. The black of his shoes met with the neatly hemmed edge of the short boy’s pants, which led up to the rest of his tuxedo combination.
In a fit of pure genius, one person decided that it would be best to simply give him one rose for Maxine. Of course, he didn’t look as much like a stud, standing tall at all the height his nine years of life had given him, he looked more like...a nine year old who was standing outside waiting for the doors to open for him. This was the time where Maxine was told to be ready for him there, and the driver from the mansion had dropped him off exactly on time, so he hoped he would not wait long.
Kat had attempted to steal all of his puzzles, and she had almost succeeded, but he snuck a little metallic brain teaser into his coat’s front pocket. Holding the rose carefully in one white-gloved hand, the other white-gloved hand dug into his pocket to pull out the silvery object, which made a light clinking noise, causing a light bit of content to show on his face. The brown-haired child moved a bit to be closer to the doors, holding his puzzle in one hand, and his rose in the other, with a fearful look on his face. It seemed so...large. Already the pocket handkerchief in his pocket was messed up from his fiddling, and his hair had started to become it’s usual mess in front of his face. He was getting antsy and needed something to do.
He looked up at the giant Roach as he was spoken to. A pink skinned one. He hadn’t ever heard anyone call him that before, but then again, he could understand it. It was logical because this Roach Man probably saw him as something weird...and himself a normal. Michael looked around at his little containment box and then he started to move into the area. Those around the cafe seemed to make a mass exodus, although one person thought to call the police as they left and report that a little child was crawling out of a suitcase, though they didn’t stick around for the real conversation to be heard.
He moved and sat on one of the chairs in front of the table and looked at it. There was some water on the surface, and so he started to nibble it a little bit on the glass as he sipped it. Things here were definitely different from in Maine. Exploring the city had never been a primary objective for him. He survived on figuring out how to talk to people, and how to interact with them in an appropriate way. The first few days, Michael had just kind of looked at people with a funny expression for a brief moment before he ignored them when he decided he didn’t like them.
This time, he was making an honest effort. He might not like the person in front of him. No he as scared of him, and the Roach seemed to be giving him eyes of some sort. It would make sense, seeing as he had many. Michael didn’t really know what to say to the man towards the proposition of food. There wasn’t any food there at all in front of him. Instead, he stayed silent until the matter of what he could do was addressed.
What should he say to that? Did he mean...oh...lots of people said something like that when the matter of his mutation came up. He looked at his gloved hand, and then he looked at the smooth surface of the table as he spoke. “Sometimes...I make things explode.”
Michael didn’t know how to keep himself too busy while Sam was in the shower. He had his Leggo’s, but not that many, and any of the activities that he wanted to do weren’t on the top of his mind right now. He was tired, and he started to shiver a little bit. Perhaps he wasn’t as dry as he should be. Michael’s hands went to nervously comb through his hair that covered his eyes. He shifted where he stood and looked down at his feet as he thought of the events.
That big blue guy had scared him, and he made something bad happen. He also soiled himself. So…why did the person help him? Michael had done so much wrong, and he’d not even spoken much to this person. And yet, he was washed and his clothes were hanging in the bathroom. He was even wearing this person’s shorts. Michael moved his hands and held up the boxers on him, pulling them higher. His head turned to face Sam as he came out, and the boy gave a nod.
Then he realized that he had to be more grateful. He couldn’t just…nod. He spoke slowly. “I…I feel a lot better.” His voice was soft as he moved a bit forward, and a bit closer to Sam, but cautiously. He wasn’t sure what else he should say. “I’m…clean. With…with the soap.” He spoke haltingly, as though it was a foreign thing. If he hadn’t been speaking along with English dubbed, or originally in English cartoons, he might not be speaking now at all.
