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.
Thanks guys for being so welcoming! I'm really excited to get started, and I hope I can play this character well. It'll be interesting to see what goes on through the threads, and where michael ends up. I'm happy to participate in really any thread
He didn’t like it in his room. There wasn’t wall space in here anymore…and his parents were adding more…and more locks on every time he left his room. They were big, heavy metal things that stuck on his door with an unrelenting grip. Again and again he’d tried to get out over the past week, but his door wouldn’t open…and his parents had not given him any food. They didn’t like him anymore. He’d heard the arguments from his bed upstairs. The yelling and the screaming that pierced through the walls of his space. His father; always pointing out the faults of Michael, and his mother always pointing out that he could change. Soon…his mother’s voice started to fade, until her voice was no longer there. Her mother left him alone with…with this evil person. Bad, bad person. Bad words, bad language…mean.
They argued about him. They said he was dangerous. He was BAD. He didn’t like that word. Bad. The sound was even uncomfortable when he said it, as though he was choking the word out of his throat.
The boy actually sat there, thinking of words. Bad. Bad bad bad. Bad wasn’t the RIGHT word. The boy squirmed, thinking of this. He couldn’t find a better word. This annoyed him. Michael bit his lip really hard, and he scrunched his fingers on his clothes trying to. Using a pencil that lay next to him, he wrote a note on his wall. “Bad. Bad bad bad bad bad.”
He knew…he knew it somewhere in his heart. He knew that he couldn’t be a bad person…he couldn’t be the only child that was different. Was he really so alone in the world? Maybe…maybe there wasn’t another kid like him in the small town of Friendship, home to only 1346 people, but there had to be someone out there, right?
His anime show was flickering across his Television as he went to his computer. He didn’t know what to call himself. It was a complete mystery for him, so after he opened his dictionary program, he paused. What was he? The boy only remembered the names other children called him at school two years ago. It was a long time ago…but he remembered. He remembered everything he could about being outside. He even remembered everything about the rocks, and the water, and all the people. The nicer ones and the meaner ones stuck to the inside of his head. He refused to let them slip away.
Thoughts swarmed through his head like a black cloud of smog. Infecting what he knew in his room with what he knew of outside. He wanted to be out there…away from his dad, who hurt him when he left. It was scary here. Michael, now sitting in his desk chair started to type. He wasn’t very good at it, so he had to search for each key individually, pecking them in as he went. Michael did not use his “left” hand at all, the gloved mutation wasn’t something he preferred to use. “Freak.” He typed into the dictionary, brow furrowed.
The first definition that popped up was merely this. “Noun. A thing or occurrence that is marked unusual or irregular.” Another definition under it. “An abnormally formed organism, especially a person or animal regarded as a curiosity or monstrosity.” Monstrosity. Monstro? No…that wasn’t the word. Monster. The root of the word was Monster. He…he was a monster? A monster…what else could a monster be called? The boy looked at his dictionary again. He slowly typed it in, the arduous process causing the minutes to tick by, and his stomach to growl more.
The definition popped up and he read it. “An animal, a plant, or other organism having structural defects or deformities.” He knew he was an animal…and an organism. He was proud to say he learned that earlier. But…but a monster also had other definitions, like definitions with fairy-tail things, and the bad guys. So he knew he needed to look again. He had to find the right word. Words were his thing. He knew words…he was good at words. Monster wasn’t the right one. The boy typed in “Defects.”
The wrong tab was open when he tried to search this, and instead, it was opened in the thesaurus. One word stood out among all the other. Mutation. He blinked. He’d…he’d seen that in the paper before. He could remember it. Mutant. Mutant!!
Michael opened the internet and slowly typed in “Mutant.” There…there was information. About people like him. He found a particular website and scanned briefly through it. Then another…and another. There were…things. People were talking about what they were. He typed slowly, so he only got one message in on each site, before he noticed another grouping of words that interested him. He was saying his name…and he was asking if he really was normal. Making sure this wasn’t some kind of fake thing was important, and he wanted people to reassure him. When he went back to one site, people were talking to him. They were telling him he was fine, and that there were others like him. But Michael was scared, and confused. He posted this on a few. He posted his concerns, his fears. The reason why he thought he was different. His mother and father always told him that different was bad, and this concerned him, so he posted this in another after figuring out how to copy and paste. In fact, he copy pasted this into a bunch of places.
“I’m scared. My dad thinks I’m bad and he doesn’t bring me food anymore. I think I’m a mutant, but I don’t know. No one else is like me where I live.”
It wasn’t particularly descriptive. It took him almost a half an hour to type, however. He wasn’t good at it. Normally, Michael’s time was spent watching his movies on his television, or working on drawing characters from it. He’d grown quite a bit weaker, and could walk and things, but it was just…getting harder. His head was dizzier, and his stomach hurt more. Stick thin, the boy was unhealthy to say the least.
Michael heard feet on the stairs, and then quickly turned his monitor off, the whir of the computer still very much active. He bolted from his chair and moved to his bed. It was farthest from the door. The little boy shook slightly, holding the covers. “Go away” he thought. “Go away.”
The moment of fear that his father brought him would last so much longer. He heard the locks click open, and the boy prayed that his humming computer was masked by the sound of the blaring anime playing on his television. The door opened and Michael’s real, flesh-built hand was digging into his legs a bit. His father looked about the room.
“You’ve kept it clean enough, kid.” The voice was a handsome, suave voice. He was the kind of man that attracted all the girls that visited the bank. Handsome, though he should never, never have a child like Michael. Michael felt a slap across his face, the perfectly trimmed nails his father made sure to keep strong raked across his face. Blood from where they cut hurt him, but he still said nothing. “I SPOKE TO YOU!!” He yelled. Michael curled up in a ball, putting his head between his knees.
Any other boy of his age would speak. They would respond to this hateful man, beg and plead to have him stop hurting them, but Michael was different. He’d always been different. Something in his head would not let him talk to those that hurt him and those that were angry at him. He instead was a little boy with autism. He threw one of his pencils at his father, infuriating the male more. This father kicked him over on his side, angry and abusive. His tie was loosened, his shirt slightly unbuttoned, and his expression becoming more wild as time passed.
Sparing the details, for the next hour his father tried again and again to make his autistic child speak. Again and again this child either threw things at him, or just cowered in fear. The male, panting, soon grew tired of his attempts and left the room, slamming the door behind him.
Michael waited until the locks were clicked shut once again before he started to cry. He wanted his mommy, but mommy wouldn’t come back for him. Mommy left and he knew it. The boy felt blood drip slowly onto his sheets and he sniffed, crying out loud. Almost to the point of wailing. It hurt.
After a little bit, he heard the door slam, meaning his father went out to do something, maybe another date, or maybe something that he wanted to do with his work money, but whatever the reason, he was alone. The boy stood up, falling over as he tried to stand, but he managed it. He went to his computer, and he logged onto the websites again. He typed a single message, and his address, he wasn’t thinking about that much, he was just thinking about the pain that he had. The boy’s message read merely this. “He’s hurting me. Please please help. I live in Maine. 32 heron road friendship.”
The boy shut his monitor off again, and moved to his television, putting in his bleach videotape. The boy moved slowly then to his bathroom, now that there was a sufficient amount of noise on. He flinched as he started to put his bandages on the places that were bleeding. Other places just hurt, and he knew that there would be some new bruises. Shutting the bathroom light off, he left the room.
His bed, though it had new spots of blood on it, was warm and inviting. He curled up beneath the covers, holding onto one of his anime teddy bears. He held onto it tightly. It was an imitation from some obscure show. The only present his father actually thought about giving him, on his sixth birthday. Michael held it close to him, the animal already ratty from all the use he’d given to it. This was what he got when daddy was happy with him, but as the bear was falling apart, so was daddy’s happiness.
Character's full name: Michael Risuque Falling Alias/ Nickname/ Code name: Not applicable. Gender: Male Age: Nine Date of Birth: (06/30/2003) Nationality/ Ethnicity: Caucasian Birthplace/ Home/ Place of origin: He was born in a rather small village on the coast of Maine. The town is called Friendship.
Appearance
Hair color and style: It’s a brown color, a dark hazelnut, but sometimes it looks a bit black. Frankly, it all depends on the lighting. His brown hair is often messy and un-brushed, considering how much he hates to take showers. Water gives him the feeling of being pulled away, because the current of water is uneven. Eyes: A smoky grey to a light blue. Height: Three foot ten. Build: Skinny and slightly malnourished Visible mutation: His hand, left, is made of something other than skin and bones. It’s a rather hard metallic substance. This is often covered by a long black glove he tends to wear over it. Scars/ Tattoos/ Piercings: He has one rather large scar on his back, since his health wasn’t really very good as a baby, he often got sick. When he got sick, once, he fell into an almost coma-like state. His mother attempted to shake him awake, and the boy fell off his bed and onto the top of his lego tower. The end result: A large scar on his back. Other features: His expression normally remains sad, or gaunt.
Everyday clothing style: Very, very loose clothing, jeans and a large white t-shirt. Uniform: Not applicable Sleepwear: Whatever he wears during the day normally. Miscellaneous clothing: There is one thing that he does always keep on him. It’s a leather wristband, around three inches long. Nothing else is really special about it; he just enjoys the feeling of leather. Other than that, he has a few different kinds of gloves; long, to cover up his mutation involving his hand. Some of them he made himself with material from the curtains his mother had put in his room.
Character
Personality: It is not really known, nor has it been diagnosed, but Michael has a form of autism. It’s called Asperger’s. This is something that really affects his ability to form social relations. It’s not a very severe case, but he has a tendency to not speak to people he does not like, or even feel threatened, and lash out. He will physically throw something at someone. If he gets too emotionally stressed, in a certain way, his mutation might become a problem. Other than that, he is a person that really loves to do certain things, and is very, very kind hearted. Whenever someone tells him that he could hurt someone, he starts to dislike himself even more. Not growing up around others like him put him in a rather weak psychological state, with little to no self-confidence. Making other people happy often makes him feel like he’s compensating for his own faults, but that’s only if he likes the person. If the person is disliked, they will be treated as a hostile enemy. He most likely won’t let them touch him. Hobbies/ Interests: Part of his Asperger’s is that he gets very attached to certain things. For instance, he use to have an obsession with English and with math, but math as an obsession only lasted for a few months before English took precedence. He does have quite an obsession with the Japanese culture and history, and finds Anime fascinating. However, in the years he’s been stuck inside of his room, he’s gotten quite interested in puzzles. If someone looked in his room at one point in time, they would most likely see leggo pieces scattered across the floor. Job or part time job and description: Not applicable. Fears/ phobias/ concerns: The fear of getting hurt, the fear of other people getting hurt, and also he has quite a large fear of violence in general. People often scare him enough to be considered a large phobia, and his mutation being discovered scares him as well. People don’t always scare him, but they will if a person talks loudly, or perhaps acts in a way that’s unfamiliar. If he becomes acquainted with these actions, he MIGHT be able to tolerate others, but it’s difficult to gain his trust if you start out on the wrong side of it.[/b] Special talents:The English language would most likely be one of his talents. He’s dissected it as much as he could. And, for three years or so, it was the target of his obsession. Having matured, and having grown bored with figuring out the exact way in which this language works, he moved onto puzzles. The puzzles he’s enjoyed particularly are two thousand pieces, and he also enjoys making his own Leggo diagrams. Most of them wouldn’t make sense to an ordinary young boy, but a person with Asperger’s tends to have a very good ability to decipher puzzles and other such things.
Morality
Good/ bad/ neutral/ other: Other. He’s not really good or bad…or neutral. He doesn’t have a stand, but he doesn’t know what the stands he could have are, or what the options are.
Mutations
Mutation description:
Michael is not aware of these details about his power, he only knows that his hand is silver, and it can sometimes cause things to catch on fire if he gets very upset
The mutation is a Silver hand, which grows normally like any other hand, merely made by a different substance. It is hard to the touch.
In normal life, it is easy for most to deal with, or to hide. He can normally cover this with a glove of some kind.
It is much more difficult for Michael to control this power because of his oftentimes instable mentality
His power is activated by emotional stress, whether it be anger or sadness, or fear that harm will come to him. The largest reactions will come forward due to a fight or flight response
The matter that makes up his hand is separated to preform it’s genetic duty from the rest of his hand. It does not regenerate instantly, it takes 2 full weeks from the usage to recover lost matter.
His hand otherwise will grow as a normal humans hand grows
The substance that makes up his hand is a silvery metal. When detatched, it is released in the form of a round ball, the size of a bouncy ball played with by children.
This ball can float away from him, but not more than twenty feet.
It is an explosive substance. However, this substance can only cause inorganic compounds to explode. The act of doing this might affect an organic compound, but only as a bi-product of the original explosion.
Shockproof metal, currently, cannot be effected by this size of an explosion at michael’s current power level.
As soon as it is released from him, there is a fifteen second delay before the ball explodes.
Currently, his power acts as a bomb, to blow up surrounding things as well, though it begins with blowing up an inorganic compound
The entire explosion takes place in a rather definite area. The ball will explode and create a sound like a gun shot, and the blast has about a ten foot diameter. Of course, smaller balls will create a smaller blast zone.
The effect of the explosion is not a shockwave. It is an explosion that, as a byproduct, produces fire. This means that any inorganic item that he explodes will most likely catch something in its surroundings on fire
Strengths: There are many strengths to this power. It’s able to explode most any inorganic item, not including shock-proof material. This is rather handy for things that other people might see useful, though Michael never really wanted it. So, the strengths in this power lie in its ability to cause what seems to be every inorganic item to explode.
Weaknesses: There is a lot of weakness to this, as well. His entire power depends on either the strength of his mentality, or his emotions. Twenty feet away from him is really only something he can manage if he has an extremely emotional issue, and it’s causing a very, very bad “temper tantrum”. The rubber ball sized drip is also not normally the size. Normally, if it’s released, it will be out of very little anxiety. If it is, then all that Michael’s brain pushes from his hand will be marble sized, and the explosion about five feet. If his glove is on, the silvery metal ball cannot simply rip through it. He cannot push it forward to break anything, only to place it at a certain area. That is knowledge Michael knows.
Secondary mutation description: Not applicable.
Fighting Style
Explanation: Michaels fighting style is mostly the fight or flight response of “flight.” So, he doesn’t normally go into fistfights. Physically Michael is extremely weak, even his metallic hand doesn’t pack much of a punch. Both of his hands are like average human hands, and his left hand looks like a left hand, because it still does carry the genetic coding to retain the shape of a left hand, merely with different matter. Pros for fighting style: His power really helps him get away, and this fighting style really helps him realize how much he cannot fight. This power isn’t something that he can use on will, so it’s also something that is a warning sign for others. If he gets emotionally stressed, it will activate, which warns other people off of trying to hurt him. Cons for fighting style: Well, the sum and total of the con of this fighting style is that Michael will be completely beat up if his mutation is not used to help him get away. He also refuses to use it to hurt a person at all, and doesn’t know if he really can. Using it in an instant just for fun is not possible for Michael, either.
Faction Allegiance Unaffiliated
History Of Your Character The little brown haired boy that was born at the hospital late one June night, in 2003, came out kicking and screaming. Or, he would have if he was a strong baby. He was a bit underweight even coming out of his mother. His silver hand did not go unnoticed by the doctor in charge. In fact, the hospital was rather unsure with what to do with the predicament. They left the room and told the parents that they would be right back to be sure that the mutation wouldn’t be a problem with any medicine’s in the future.
These parents didn’t understand Michael’s mutation, and as the doctor came back, the mother begged and pleaded for an understanding family to take him in. The nurse who helped birth Michael took pity on him. She suggested her sister, who had been trying to have a baby with his husband for a long time. Well, her sister agreed, and Michael grew up with this nurse’s sister, the adoption papers were never made, and his birth to these two people was forged, so Michael still has no idea of this part. He suspects it often.
He was not an ordinary child; the glove on his hand was not the largest concern. If he had one bad thing done to him by another child, he never forgot. He wouldn’t ever talk to them, or work with them, and might even throw toys at them. His parents just thought this would be something he would grow out of, but he didn’t. This wasn’t the only thing. Michael, all through pre-school had an obsession with the few books there were. He made the only teacher, Ms. Risty, teach him how to read the words, and what they meant. No matter what the time was, even if it was lunch, he would attempt to get this teacher to help him. He was persistent, and wouldn’t stop in his thirst for the knowledge of these words. Not once did he want to join into the activities of the other kids.
The boy soon turned six and it was time for kindergarten. Michael was used to being babied, because the daycare teachers knew that he needed some extra attention, but it happened a bit less in Kindergarten and he began to hate his teacher. This teacher spoke to him, and he would completely ignore her. She didn’t matter to him, but another boy did. He was good at his language arts. He read well, and could understand the teachers’ bigger words. Michael felt respect for this other little boy, and would at times follow him.
On the playground one day, while Michael was following the other boy, the boy pushed him to the ground, and his glove fell off his hand. Normally he tied a piece of string so it wouldn’t come off on his wrist, but not today. Today he’d forgotten. The boy began to call him a freak, and he laughed at Michael, making fun of him for having his silver hand, and for being so weird about words, for always reading the dictionary, or asking the teacher to read it to him, since he couldn’t understand the harder ones, and wanted to hear them said.
Michael had anger in him he’d never felt before, pure anger. A little marble sized silver from his finger, literally a chunk from his finger, followed the retreating boy. In a minute…it exploded. The explosion seemed to happen right on the boy’s jacket, which meant that the boy himself didn’t get the full blast, but it was enough to harm him, considering the effect an explosion had of fire. His jacket had started to burn, sizzling through. It was cold out, and winter, so the boy wore a thick jacket. And though fire ate away at it quickly, he could have been hurt a lot more. Michael, scared from the noise that he made, ran away, and managed to get out of the play area and run home. The little boy, whose jacket caught on fire, was put in the hospital, “Fire had apparently been forced into him by some kind of blast” the doctors wrote. It was a miracle he did not get a worse burn. His friends around him had also gotten a bit injured, though none as burnt as that boy was.
His parents were called, and the kindergarten teacher spoke of the incident and the boy’s disappearance. Michael was at his home, on the couch when that call changed his life. He doesn’t recall how his parents sorted it out, but he was told by his shaking parents he was a monster. Michael did not fit in with other kids. He was simply a bother, so he wasn’t allowed to go into school with those other kids anymore. He was sent to his room…and an outside lock was put on it.
Michael developed into a boy with a fascination for anime, having seen an episode on the TV. Just recently, his parents started fighting about the ethics of Michael’s situation, and his mother slammed the front door, got in a cab, never to return. His father is often abusive of Michael now, explaining that it’s Michael’s fault, and he should have never become their child. Food is rare, and he is scared of his father’s entrance. No matter how many puzzles he solves, or how many Leggo things he builds, he can’t forget the hurts that he has because of his father. Not one bit.
Roleplay Where did you learn about this site?: I wanted to do an X-Men roleplaying site, and I went on Google, searching through a bunch of them. This one seemed really cool!! So I decided to make an application. Do you have any other characters on MRO, if so who: I do not have another character on this site, no. Sample RP: (takes place in Michael’s past) There was always some kind of noise in Michael’s room. His parents had tried taking it away once, and he’d almost kicked them. He was yelling and crying. So, the noise remained. It was mostly the familiar noise of the TV blaring anime in Japanese, with no subtitles. He never liked subtitles, because they hid the artwork he really liked. One of his favorite shows was bleach. Bleach held a lot of respect from Michael, because there were a lot of really weak people who got beat up, and then returned a lot stronger.
This particular episode he’d seen many times, and he was speaking along with the tape as it played, though his eyes were focused on another thing. It was the drawing he was doing. This drawing was a common character for him; his favorite character “Ichigo” plastered the walls of the room, in fact. He was rather good at drawing, because he liked the lines to be in the right place, and couldn’t stand having them be different from Ichigo. It sometimes took him hours to perfect one line to get his beloved character correct.
As he looked down at the artwork, mumbling some sound effects, he heard a knock on the door and his eyes lit up. The boy, who was curled up in his favorite circular black chair, sprang up, so quickly that he almost tripped over fallen pencils that were worn down to nubs. The blue jeans he wore also did not prove to help him much. He managed to keep his balance and run to the door, opening it happily. Mum always came back from the café with very yummy things. But it wasn’t his mom. It was dad. Dad was more of a stranger to Michael. He didn’t bring yummy things, and he wore a suit and ties all the time. Even in the house. His frown quickly returned and he glanced the other way, holding the door.
His father was used to Michael’s blatant disrespect, and refusing to talk to him, but he was holding a tray of food for Michael. He spoke first. “Your mother said that you might like it if I brought you food. She’ll…she’ll be home late. But she got you this DVD.”
This brought Michael to glance over at him. A DVD? Was it the one he’d asked for? He slowly took it from his father and glanced over it. It was. The boy hugged it to his stained white t-shirt, and then looked up at the food. He wasn’t hungry anymore. The boy actually started to close the door on his father. He was just a stranger who yelled at him a lot to clean his room, after all. So he had no problems with slamming it on his father’s face.
The thing that also made him dislike his father was that his father just left. He didn’t try to set the food down or anything like his mother did when she had made him upset. He simply walked out of the room and down the hallway to the stairs without saying another word. When he started down them, however, Michael could hear him speak. “Weird kid…I wonder why we don’t just send him away.” And he sat in his chair again. The boy curled up, still holding his DVD, and started to cry.
