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 closed his eyes a moment, trying to think of an answer. This was what he was forcing himself to do, because he didn't want to think about Koga's words. They scared him in truth. He was scared that his words meant that Michael would have to face the fears that he had of himself and things around him. It meant that maybe he'd have to figure out what his power did, and why people were angry at him for having it. Would he have to face his issues all along? No. Michael didn't want to keep going with these thoughts, and Koga could most likely see the little boy as he tugged on his hair a little bit, and then squeezed a section for a moment. A distraction, that's all it was.
He looked over at Koga, and then back down again quickly. He was kind of scared still, but he wanted to keep talking, since it was already going so well. "I...like...I like blue." He said quietly. Blue's and oranges made him happy. Black, red, yellow, and white made him scared. When white was there he felt like his eyes were burning up, so it was awkward to look at.
Hokee’s thoughts were accompanied by very thoughtful moves from Michael. Things that he did always had some kind of purpose. He didn’t play with a bouncy ball for the enjoyment, maybe if he got a bouncy ball he would throw it against the ground to see what happened, and then try to see if he can make that happen again. His whole world was constructed by bits and pieces of puzzles that he saw, oftentimes the puzzles weren’t this made things better. Everything suddenly had a purpose when viewed that way, even if he had a negative opinion of it, Michael tried to find the puzzle in it, and his anger and sadness were whisked away.
Hokee was someone he could see that was different from the other people here. Though Michael couldn’t see that this was part of his nerves in dealing with the autistic kid, he did see that Hokee was perhaps acting a bit like him. The teenager was being quiet, and he wasn’t really communicating through any other means but for looking at things. And yet, his eyes did not make contact with Michael’s eyes. It was perhaps a subconscious effort to relate with him or understand him, but Michael’s mind was concerned with it in another light.
He was like Michael. He was nervous, and trying to understand what was going on. He was hurt, and people told him what to do to get better, and he’d noticed that Hokee would often sometimes hobble away from them; maybe he didn’t want to hear it. Michael had those moments every day. He ate food, but people told him that it was not enough. That what he’d lived off of was not enough nutrients for a child. Maybe it was, in truth, different. The difference between Hokee’s and Michael’s case was astronomically large and odd, but Michael found the pleasure in his company to be a bit higher with his new connections of this odd puzzle.
He turned to face Hokee with wide eyes as the teen approached him after the arduous process of moving to the right position. He was a bit…scared. He could really feel that the other person was initiating contact with him. No. No he was called “Hokee.” Michael liked “Hokee” So he’d remember that name. Hokee. Hokee’s hand was approaching his face. For a second, Michael closed his eyes. He didn’t know what to do. Normally, he would flinch away, or even push Hokee’s hand away. It would ruin the moment if it were any other person. But this was “Hokee.” So why should he push Hokee away? He’d already told himself he liked Hokee, so he had to trust Hokee as well. So Michael stayed very very still, as though forcing himself, and he accepted the dab of paint.
Michael was rather confused at this point. The giant bug man was supposed to be nice, right? And he’d gotten a bit of candy from the giant bug as well. So why was it the bug-man decided to put him in a box? Michael wasn’t thinking about the consequences of such a thing at first, he was thinking about what made the bug-man get all upset to shove him in here. He looked at his own piece of toffee as the boy was carried through the air in such a trunk.
Michael’s eyes closed tightly, and he tried to not get scared by all the shaking and jostling of this container. Gulping, Michael held himself, curled up in a tight little ball. This was starting to get a bit scary. He slowly moved forward. Just a little bit, and he slammed his head into the front of the trunk. So he decided against doing that again, and just stayed tightly to the back.
Soon, they came to a stop, and the trunk opened to reveal some kind of coffee shop. The bug-man invited him to get out of the trunk, and instead, he just kind of peeked out. He didn’t feel a need to get out fully, because he was kind of freaked out, and afraid other people would see her. The boy looked down at the floor a little bit, and he tried to figure out whether or not it was wise to go anywhere near the bug-man again.
Many young children experienced first hand what it was like to wet themselves, they had to get rescued and taken somewhere so they could clean up, but oftentimes it was not under such circumstances. In this circumstance, any child would immediately try and remove all the offending clothes, but he had a reason not to. Michael knew that there were things on himself that other kids didn’t have by the reaction Chase had when DocProf first saw him and fixed some of the injuries he had.
So, Michael waited until they were in the shower, and until the water was running and everything was blocked off from the male’s view to start his showering attempts. He looked at the clothes on him and carefully removed the clothes. He folded them in neat piles, then put them underneath the sink. Though it seemed illogical, there was some kind of thought process that made him feel like it was the correct and proper place for the clothes, which were now in an unofficial time-out.
He moved now towards the shower, and the little boy stepped in, and after many attempts to get under the water without feeling the need to wrestle with the shower curtain to stay upright without moving and slipping, he spread his legs out a bit so one foot pressed against each side of the tub. This effectively held him in place while he got all clean and then frowned as he looked at the water faucet thing, blinking back water and soap in his eyes. He rubbed them, and since this made things worse, he ended up being forced out of the shower and onto the floor of the bathroom in hesitant defeat.
Michael looked at the shower, still spewing water, and went over to where his pajama pants were. He threw them a few times until they draped over the metallic lining that made up the water dispenser, and then closed the shower curtains tightly, dripping water onto the floor with a panting, skinny little body.
He got a towel Sam prepared for him and dried himself off quickly, then he put Sam’s boxers on. One thing that did need to be noted, however. Through the ENTIRE shower process, not once did he remove the glove on one of his hands. He wouldn’t. It wasn’t something that needed to be cleaned anyway, right? Well…maybe it did, but Michael was unconcerned with it as he came out of the bathroom slowly, the water still running, but having a harder time of getting past Michael’s pajama pants in his attempts to block it.
Michael was indeed covered in scratches and bruises, and he was also not wearing a shirt. His shirt matched his pajama pants, so why would he even need to wear one? It made no sense. He was, as suspected, sickly skinny. DocProf had just barely let Michael out of the infirmary for his malnutrition and overall physical health condition.
Michael looked over at him and then handed the puzzle to the person. He wriggled a bit where he sat, and listened to Koga's story. He didn't smile or seem to come to any realization. In truth, he was very bad at displaying any of his emotions in the right way. Michael watched Koga for a moment, and then he spoke slowly. "My...my thing is bad, and it only makes bad things happen like I do."
He said this quietly, because he liked Koga. He didn't like other people like doctors or therapists, who hadn't gotten to know him yet, so he would attempt to avoid telling them no matter what the costs were. When it was someone he knew, or someone who seemed to share similar interests, it was okay.
He also felt that Koga might understand that Michael felt this way about himself. Perhaps he wouldn't understand that Michael felt like he caused bad things wherever he went, because Koga didn't hurt someone at school his own age on accident, and have to run away from school. Nor did Koga have to listen while locked in his room to arguments with his parents.
"I...I like colors though. You make better colors than the colors I make." He nodded a little bit. He was talking of course about the color of the silvery substance on his hand.
He uncurled a little bit and looked at Hokee. This person was trying to make Michael feel better. For once, he was able to look past all the ulterior motives, and he looked at Hokee as a person that maybe didn’t mean to hurt him, or maybe didn’t mean to bring something up that would make him really upset. Other people just wanted to talk about those things all the time, and didn’t understand that Michael just wanted to make it go away!! He looked down towards the ground for a moment and then crawled slightly closer to Hokee.
The paint-covered blob took one of Hokee’s crutches and wiped his hand on the grass before he started to decorate the crutch. It had pretty designs on it that all worked together to make a single working puzzle. He wrote Hokee’s name on it, but the name was spelled wrong, and the “E” was backwards. So it read something equivalent to Ho Key. With the backwards E still present of course.
He once again wiped his hand on the dirt and let himself give Hokee that rare smile again as he dipped his finger in black, and he touched it to Hokee’s cheek. He then sat back and raised his eyebrow, as if asking what Hokee would do in retaliation. Yes. For once, Michael wanted to interact with someone, and he wanted to know what this person would do in return.
Michael actually let a small smile grow on his face as Sam spoke about making friends. That would be good for him. He was benefitting the mansion that had graciously accepted him, and he was not paying for anything as of yet. He spoke out louder than he normally did, trying to be proud. “I…I hope I can…can get money and make a new friend. Does…does anyone want to be my friend yet?” He looked up at Sam for a moment, and then down again, trying to make sense of things.
He listened more and then looked up as he heard Sam talk about a specific person. He looked around until he noticed who he was talking about, and then he noticed who it was. A girl with long blonde hair who did seem to have an unpleasant look on her face. She didn’t look nice at all in his opinion. He probably wouldn’t talk to her even if he was told not to. “She looks funny.” He said, frowning now a little bit. This was also a bit louder than he intented.
All the noise had caused him to be a little bit deaf to his surroundings for the moment. He looked at his hands, and then at Sam again. “Do…do you think anyone wants to be my friend?” He asked it quietly, because he was afraid that no one would want to be. He was, after all, not a very sociable person, and he tended to require other peoples clothes a lot of the time. He just hoped that he’d raise money. “I want to help the…the people that brought me here, so I hope..”
Michaels eyes strayed from their usual spot at the floor to look at the room. It was really clean, and he really did like the crown. It was kind of…princely. Princes wore crowns after all, right? And the color of the crown was so perfect and gold. It wasn’t really a mix of colors or anything. It was just…golden. He tilted his head, staring at it as though he’d expected it to get up and walk away or something at any moment. Such a pretty thing couldn’t resign itself to one room.
A rustling broke his train of thought, and the easily distracted boy turned his head quickly to look at it. Sam was getting things. He looked at the wardrobe and his mouth almost fell open. Were all those clothes for Sam? He moved forward, trying not to touch anything as he stared in the wardrobe. They were all clothes that were Sam’s size. That many clothes for one person was…well that was just insane, right? He must be super rich. He had a crown over his bed, and a billion clothes. Now Michael felt bad for having Sam help him.
He looked down at his feet again, and waited like that until Sam came over. He stood up to leave, and it took him some time to feel truly steady. He didn’t like getting up as much as he liked sitting down. Then of course, Sam had to leave to go grab another thing. He waited, holding onto his pants tightly this time, until Sam told him they were ready to go. He nodded a little bit at Sam’s suggestion.
“It…it’s a really big bed.” He said quietly, and then he slowly continued. “It’s a lot different from my room.” He wasn’t sure about the room being his home yet, afraid it might be overstepping the boundaries that may or may not be in place.
Michael hugged his backpack tight to him, and he looked up slightly at this cockroach man. He said nothing for a long while, merely letting this man-bug speak. After all, he was saying a lot of things. He frowned as he went back and tried to figure out what was actually being said. He didn’t know what half the words were, or what a planetary…thing was. Something about a law of a planet. He looked into his bag with the leggo and zipped it up tightly, that way nothing would fall. Then he attemted to speak. He didn’t know what digits were, so he did a lot of estimating.
“I…I’m nine and my teeth are still little…Um..” He looked at the candy now in his hands and fiddled with it awkwardly. What else did he ask again? Oh yeah. “I had…I had food this morning, and I don’t think I haveta to pee or anything.” However, he stopped for a moment when he realized that the man-bug was talking about an alarm clock. The conversation certainly moved faster than he had anticipated it would. Michael looked at his feet, and wriggled them together a little bit, his brown hair falling over his face again.
There weren’t any places in the rest of his talking that Michael felt like he could intervene, but after a small stretch of time, he did ask a question. “What…what are you doing?” He didn’t normally hold conversations for this long, so he was being pretty brave, but it also meant that he had no idea if this was a normal conversation or not. When he talked to Sam the conversation seemed to be different, though. Sam spoke to him a lot, and Michael responded pretty well, because he knew what to say. He didn’t know what to say here at all.
“I…I kind of like cake a little bit maybe…” He said it quietly, just trying to fill up a conversation. After all, a conversation had to take place between people, not with oneself.
He fiddled with a green block, toying with the idea of adding it onto his car, when he saw a man come forward. Well…it was something. He wasn’t sure whether the cockroach was a man or a woman, but Michael was getting used to seeing weird-looking people. Someone at the auction had a rather odd snake’s tail. So, Michael just accepted it and turned back to his work. The car was getting a bit more elaborate as well.
All while the cockroach man was in the mansion, Michael worked on this car, and then noticed that the man was coming back out again. His leggo pieces were almost gone, but he added what he could onto the cool-shaped car. Although, the colors were the interesting part. They made a really cool pattern, and gave the car something like racing stripes. He heard this cockroach man call to him, and his head perked.
He looked around, to be sure that he was the person being called and frowned a little bit. Well…they let him into the mansion, and Kat said that everyone in the mansion was nice, so he didn’t have to hide from them. He took a breath and put his precious car in his bag, along with the rest of his lego pieces, and the kit went in separately.
He made his way over to the cockroach man, blinking a little bit as he stared at the candy. He did like candy, since he had never gotten very much of it. Junk food he got a lot. But candy? Candy was the best thing in the world. “W…we have to talk?”
The boy’s wounds had a story as to how they came out. The story was enough to make many people wretch in disgust. The memories luckily did not surface in Michael’s mind as this was done, and the little boy leaned forward, his body revealing to DocProf exactly what happened for that wound.
There were images swirling about, recent ones. There were sounds as well. It was all being seen through the boy’s eyes, but his eyes were filled with tears, so there were blurry images around him. The noises were hard to mistake, however.
The little boy looked up at his father with his blurry eyes, tears staining his own cheeks as he saw the man holding the bottle in his hands. His father threw it on the floor, and it shattered in front of the little boy, glass going everywhere. DocProf felt his hands waver, as he saw clearly what was happening to Michael. His father picked the boy up and threw him on the floor, and at that point the glass must have caused such a wound that he had on his back.
DocProf felt the vision end and quickly hurried into healing Michael wound. A warm feeling spread through the boy, and he felt at peace. He was calm and relaxed fully for once, and the boy closed his eyes as the DocProf took in all that he could.
Such memories for such a poor little boy should not be anything anyone would go through. Glimpses of his room showing the Doc that he indeed had been there for longer than he should have. None of his scrapes came from outside of the room at all.
He healed many of the larger injuries that Michael had, but he pulled back afterwards. He was not trying to be selfish, however, he knew that the bruises and knicks would all heal.
What he was also avoiding were the memories the little boy’s injuries had to offer. His head was already full of them, and he didn’t need to see more.
His eyes closed tightly and then he opened them quickly. He was trying to catch the people around him doing something different. However, people were just milling around and playing, nothing really too interesting was happening. The boy’s brown hair once again fell in his face, and he had to shake his head to get it out of his eyes. The boy’s bright eyes moved around, as he looked perhaps for an isolated place.
The only area he really could find was near the entrance to the mansion, where he sat down slowly. He was on the steps at the moment. The boy wore a pair of regular Levi jeans, that seemed to be only held up by a rather tight belt. His shirt was long, and the t-shirt sleeves were actually almost down the full of his arm. The collar of the shirt was skewed to the side, so his shoulder could be seen a little bit. A backpack was also on him, the thing that he really needed to have with him.
His backpack had the Leggo that he needed to build his things. He loved Leggo, and building things with the Leggo was his new interest. He took out his kit: A plastic container with the leggo all sorted by what it was inside. He smiled slightly at the pieces of Leggo in there, and then took some out as he started to build a little car.
There wasn’t really too much that was bothering him at the moment, he actually felt pretty comfortable for once. Smiling at the Leggo’s he started with the red, and then moved on to using the blue blocks. Red and blue were cool colors. He even had special black blocks that he also added on. The best part was that no one was interrupting his Leggo times.
Michael looked at Chase, who was fiddling with the sheets, and then quickly back at the doctor as he spoke. He was nervous, and he was scared, but Chase told him that this doctor didn’t need any special metal things. He looked down at his hand, shoved beneath the sheets, and he frowned. He had lots of hurts all over him, and maybe…maybe he could let this person make one or two of them better. He shifted just a little bit, and very slowly.
The worst was on his back, there was a rather large cut, not so much a scrape or a scratch, that was probably caused by something sharp. It hurt Michael a lot, but people couldn’t really see it, so he ignored it. This meant that it got a little bit infected. He took another look at the DocProf, and he slowly fiddled with his shirt so he ended up taking it off. This wasn’t very attractive either. He really did need what he was going to get here, because he might not have lived much longer under such conditions.
“B…back hurts. But…you can’t make it…hurt and…and touch it. Touching it or…or putting something on it hurts.” He spoke quietly, but it was loud enough for the elderly man to hear. He focused on his calming breathing, even though he was almost shaking with the effort of keeping himself calm. There were just so many things here, and none of them made sense yet. He looked at Chase for a moment, taking comfort in the boy’s relaxed smile.
“D…don’t tell daddy.” He said after a moment. “Don’t tell daddy I’m seeing a doctor.” He said it softly, and wasn’t sure if anyone could even hear him. His daddy was a very very bad part of his life, but he was there, nonetheless.
He ignored Hokee’s idea of drawing the closet. At the moment, things in the Mansion were too perfect to mess up. Even if there was conflict at the Mansion, or maybe something was a bit ugly, a window cracked through or something along those lines, Michael viewed it as untouchable and pure. He looked at Hokee with wide eyes, however, when he heard about Hokee’s dad. He knew about bad fathers.
A memory flashed through him. Drinking and violence, words that Hokee used left his mothers lips. The day mommy left. His daddy was yelling at mommy, and there were bad words making him yell even more. Mommy couldn’t take it anymore. Was daddy drinking then? His eyes looked down towards his feet and he started to fiddle more. It was quite obvious that he was taking slow breaths to calm himself down. Anger, sadness, all of that would affect him if he didn’t calm the emotions in him.
He lay down and curled up a little bit. He was going into a shell. He didn’t want to remember his father. All the hurts that happened, and all the times his father just walked past his room and caused a miniature panic attack. Many of his items destroyed just because he’d had a panic attack. Everything was too difficult for him to deal with right now. If only someone would reach out…tell him everything was okay. He needed that right now. Nothing was okay. Bloody clothes. He had them too. They were what made up all of his clothes. The bruises that he had were not the consequence of chance.
Michael was still kind of wary of this man, he didn’t really want any interaction with him at all, but he didn’t dislike the older guy. And though he did not nave any intense hatred of the man in any way, he didn’t really answer whether or not he would allow questions. Within a few moments, it was easy to see that Michael had solved his rubix cube in an odd way. The center color, for every square, was a different color than it’s surroundings, which were made up of a singular, solid color.
He looked slightly at Chase, as he heard confirmation that perhaps this person was alright to be near, even if he was a doctor that would stick things in him, though he did mutter something about that. “Doctors stick metal things in your arms.” It was a mutter of course, so probably hard for the DocProf to hear. As the questions came, Michael allowed for a bit of a pause before he answered any of them.
“three plus three plus three.” He said this because he liked that there was a pattern of numbers that could lead up to nine. Threes and threes. Three times three, three plus three plus three. All of them were wonderful.
“My room…” This was said very, very meekly. He wasn’t trying to be snarky, or sarcastic, that was really the only thing that he knew about things anymore. He had already forgotten the name of the place he lived in. He forgot it a while ago. The only reason he knew the address to write it online was because he took a look at a bit of old mail, then tossed it away afterwards in anger. The next question threw him off, however.
Michael looked at his hand quickly. Left hand. Left gloved hand. He was hiding something. He most definitely was hiding something. Michael shoved it beneath the blankets quicker than his body should move, and most likely painfully, since he had to hide it beneath his backpack. “Not allowed.”