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.
Katrina was not too good to live in the bunker, though it would be easy to get that impression. In fact, it felt more like she was coming home when she came here than it did when she entered the bone fortress of the Amazons. Slate lived here, and any place where he was felt like home, whether it be a tiny apartment over a garage, the burnt out shell of a crashed jet, or a bunker rumored to be sitting on top of a nuclear bomb in the middle of a shell of a city.
The biggest problem with living here was that if she did, there wouldn't be enough food to go around. Celeste was afraid to leave the bunker due to radiation, she couldn't picture Juka as the type who would choose to rob from others in order to live, Sarah was a human who would be eaten alive by the first Amazon who ran across her out on her own (possibly quite literally, if the Amazon in question was Aura), and Slate was an invalid.
Sure, Celeste got a lot of business, since she traded supplies with nearly everyone and was even able to use Slate's healing ability to barter for more, but they wouldn't survive on that alone.
Without a doubt the Amazons had the best access to food, water, and supplies. They were fearless raiders, unafraid to take what they needed in order to survive. They were selfish, and in this climate, that was what helped them survive. They cared for their own, and they thrived doing it.
It had been a tough choice, joining the Amazons, but she still felt like it had been the right choice. This way, she could make sure that Slate – and the only ones willing to help care for him – got enough food to survive. She also brought the more unique and useful things she found on her raids back to the bunker to keep Celeste's shelves fully stocked. It sucked, being away from Slate, being distrusted by Celeste, and having to participate in the blood baths the Amazons called shopping trips or, slightly more accurately at times, raids, but it meant survival.
The door opened, held by another blonde girl. Though they shared similar features, there wouldn't be any mistaking Celeste and Katrina. Where Katrina was tanned, scarred, dirty, and windblown, Celeste was pale, smooth skinned, and immaculately clean with every hair perfectly in place. Even after the apocalypse she looked great, though a little on the thin side, but everyone Katrina knew was on the thin side these days.
Katrina stepped inside the door, then dropped her illusion of invisibility.
“Hey there, I've brought presents. Is it Christmas yet?” It wasn't. It was much closer to mid-summer than mid-winter. By Katrina's count from the last solstice, she'd be 21 in about two weeks.
She smiled, as always trying to be friendly. She owed a lot to Celeste for taking in Slate, so much so that she felt she'd never be able to pay her back.
Ooh! You can use Jocelyn for Abyss if you want. I didn't really have a plan for her for the AoS before now, so I'm open to plotting. By then her son Felix would be about 17, so perfect older brother if you want. Also, they'd have uncle Nigel to help look after them.
Thanks for doing all this research, Miles. I think your ideas sound great!
I'd like to add in something. If possible, I'd like to have Sebby's Church be part of the town. It wouldn't really make sense for them to be living off on their own, since their mission is to do service. Not much use if they only do it for their own members. They would be spending a lot of time helping to defend the town, helping to clean it up, helping to put it back into a nice orderly place that everyone could use. As an added bonus, the building they use is already really close to the park... you could even have it be the one in your photo if you wanted.
This would also give the town a little more fire power, and make things feel a little more fair if it comes to an all out battle with the Amazons. Having a healer nearby wouldn't hurt, either.
The hot, stale air blew stray strands of blonde into pale grey eyes. A petite hand absently brushed them away again as their owner scanned the horizon from her covered location. She didn't see anyone, but that didn't mean they weren't there. She herself could not be seen most of the time. Projecting an image of invisibility was almost second nature to her by now; it was simply safer to not be seen, or smelled, or tasted, or heard.
Carefully, so as not to kick up dust, Katrina made her way forward slowly making her way down the hill and towards the steps that led down to Celeste's bunker.
There was a camera there, Celeste's eyes to the outside world. The illusionist knew she would show up on the tape if the young colormancer chose to review it, but for now, anyone in the bunker was within range of her illusions and would see nothing on the little screen save for a tumbleweed blowing by.
A quiet recording played music as Celeste's voice read on repeat the basic list of items she was offering for sale.
Leaves of green, red roses too...
“Bottled water, canned food...”
Skies of blue, and clouds of white...
“Gas masks, candle lights...”
Bright blessed days, dark sacred nights...
“We've got wine and Bud Light...”
The colors of the rainbow, so pretty in the sky...
Katrina pressed the little button on the intercom, which interrupted the recording.
“Hey, it's me. Let me in?” She was a frequent enough visitor that Celeste should recognize her voice by now, and know the reason that she didn't show up in the camera until it was rewound.
She adjusted her heavy backpack and waited for the door to unlock. She had a lot of loot to deliver today, as well as some somewhat questionably tasting, but still better than starving, leftovers.
Embers glowed at the bottom of the cast iron stove, giving off a reddish-orange flicker that barely reached to the far corners of the tiny room. Outside the window the first snowflakes of the new year joined hands and danced down through the golden beams of antique streetlamps that cut through the darkness.
The bitter cold infiltrated the tiny room a tendril at a time, through each of the tiny cracks and crevices seeped a young warrior of the winter winds, drafted at an early age to wage war against the warmth. The little stove worked steadily to keep out the invading cold, but it was losing the battle; it would soon be out of ammunition.
She knew she would have to get up soon to add enough wood to the fire soon, but it was so nice under the blanket; cuddling, entrenched against the cold. Five more minutes. She'd get up in five minutes.
A thud of rubber against bone. A clatter of a ladle in the pot. The smell of... ugh.
Katrina's eyes flickered open. Bones arched over her bed like the bars of a prison. At least this morning they weren't dripping red with the afterimages of her own nightmares. She closed her eyes again, willing herself to go back to sleep, to recover some sense of the nostalgic dream she had so been enjoying.
It was no use. There was too much excitement, too many loud voices. The Amazons were awake and itching for battle. The prospect was even less appetizing than breakfast.
Still, they were her family. She didn't always like their methods, but in these desperate times those methods were what allowed her to survive, and to help someone else survive, too. She could live with bone tables made from the bodies of Aura's victims if it meant she could pilfer enough table scraps to keep two people reasonably well fed.
I hope you're up for some healing later today. I have a good feeling there are going to be a couple of people that will need patching up.
She made her way to the kitchen and scraped some … she was just going to pretend it was chicken... into a recycled cranium. It was for survival. If she could stomach this, she could stomach anything.
With a little imagination, breakfast tasted halfway decent.
School gets out in a week and a half. Until then, there are a million things going on. After then, life will settle down and I'll be back to posting again. Sorry for any delays.
Katrina just nodded along with the plans of the other two. Fixing the electricity. Making a fire. She should do something useful as well.
“I'll go dig a...” what was it they called a camping bathroom in all the stories that weren't too polite to mention how the characters dealt with their various bodily functions, “...a latrine.”
They would all need one eventually. She just wasn't sure exactly how she would go about doing it without a shovel. Maybe with a stick. Or something.
It took a few minutes to find the perfect spot: a felled tree with a conveniently placed fork, rock-free ground beneath it, and a spare branch that could help dig a ditch. She picked up the branch and tentatively gave the earth a few scratches. This was going to take forever. Even for someone used to the best and worst bathrooms that 1913 had to offer, this was a fairly low experience on the totem pole of bathrooms. It was too bad they couldn't be stranded somewhere with a five star hotel and a halfway decent bathroom that smelled of fresh lavender.
Except they could have a halfway decent bathroom. Sort of. If she made an illusion one.
That would have been great if it was just Slate here, but they also had Maya and while Katrina liked her and trusted her, she didn't really want to give away what the full extent of her powers were if she could help it. People, for some reason, seemed to get angry sometimes when they found out. Or told others. Which could lead to kidnapping. Or so the logic went.
So she kept digging until she could no longer see the ground in front of her. Good enough.
She felt much better once she found her way back to the beach, where the flames of the fire cast a warm glow across hull of their vessel. The stars winked at them in between gaps in dark, ashen clouds. The moon shone hazy and blood red through the smoke. In this light, she could almost imagine that the ship was whole again, and they had only come here for a vacation.
There was only a single form by the firelight, and she couldn't tell in the shadows whether it was Maya , or by now, Gawain. She waved as she passed, and called, “The bathroom is up that pathway, if you need it.”
Then she took off her shoes in order to slosh her way out to the door of the jet. The water was lower at this time of day, only just barely up to her knees on the crest of the waves and just barely covering her toes at the nadir.
“Slate?” She called softly. “You're not still working are you?” She could barely even see. Bright spots from looking at the fire still danced in front of her eyes, obscuring her vision of the shadows within the plane.
There's a girl (well... a real life guy who has a girl character) who gives me butterflies in my tummy each time I read one of her posts. Whether she is fighting for her life in a dramatic battle of the bugs, or simply sharing a tender moment, each and every one of her posts is amazingly well thought out and well written. I am speaking, of course, of Agnes Nicholas (who is played by the amazing Jorge).
I am continually amazed by Jorge's ability to make each of his characters so unique and to be completely dedicated to each one. There never seems to be a lapse where any of them are neglected, no matter how busy he gets in real life or with moderating duties (for which we also deeply appreciate him). Agnes, in particular, has an interesting and well detailed character history (read all her posts!) that truly affects how she interacts with others and her personality is completely unique.
All of Jorge's characters, and especially Agnes are incredibly fun to write with. He has great ideas that make each post come alive, and each post has some new and creative twist. He also knows how to roll with the punches and can deal with any surprises you might throw his way, then throws a few back at you!
I have been meaning to nominate this character for a long time, but seem to miss the deadline by a day each time. *guilt* If you haven't yet read these threads, you should:
Meese? Real explosions? Katrina tilted her head after reading the fine print on some of the flavors and just had to ask.
“What does it mean when it says 'You will flip when you feel how these bears so gummy frolic in your tummy'?”
She wasn't sure how she felt about something actually frolicking in her stomach. Was that a literal description?
“What flavor do you want?” She asked Calley, squeezing his hand to get his attention. He was being awfully frowny faced for someone in an ice cream shop with actual exploding gumballs. If the fine print was to be believed.
Did they have “Quit Sulking Strawberry”?
--
She had been very vague when she had explained to the researcher what they were going to do. She always felt vaguely uncomfortable giving away what she knew other people could do with their powers. She wouldn't necessarily want everyone in the world knowing the extent of her own abilities, and talking about someone else's seemed even more taboo.
Especially since Calley was the one who had originally taught her to be so cautious.
It had been a tricky conversation in the planning process, with lots of evaded questions, half hints, and promises to answer more fully upon arrival at the island. All of that led to a lot of curiosity that looked like it was about to kill the cat boy.
“So,” she interrupted the barrage as politely as she could, “Do you have a lot of other rare species here as well?”
Katrina's smile faltered slightly at the sudden crash and crinkle of glass breaking and falling in the other room. Her hands flew to cover her ears as Zephyr's amplified voice boomed through the manor. It wasn't the volume that erased the rest of her smile; it was the tone. He sounded almost... panicked.
Almost like he cared.
She turned toward Mr. Smith, Sr. with wide eyes.
“All I did was tell him I needed his help.” Sort of.
It had worked, in any case, even if it wasn't exactly as she had planned.
Standing under the withering gaze of Zephyr and Ghost's father, suddenly it seemed like her brilliant plan maybe hadn't been such a good one after all.
They really were cute, the pair of cat boys sharing a mirror to get ready for their date night. Cute, in a what-on-earth-are-you-wearing kind of way.
Slate's tie was perfectly straight, of course, but his hair and even his ears were dripping with clear goo.
Calley's hair was artistically tousled, but his shirt was absolutely blinding. That may have been the reason for the sunglasses; staring at his own reflection too long could have caused permanent retinal damage.
No, not mad. I'm just sad that things have been so busy lately I've barely seen you at all. You don't think Calley could play a convincing you, could he?
The blonde girl wandered in, shielding her eyes against the glowing neon of Calley's shirt.
“You look nice,” She straightened Slate's already straight shirt and poked at his head. She examined the sticky goo on her finger with a frown, but didn't say anything and tried not to think anything either. Kaitlyn, perhaps, liked the slicked back look.
Still shielding her eyes, she dared a peek through her fingers at Calley.
“Are you really going to wear something so... bright?” Hawaiian was alright, but his shirt was stare-directly-into-a-laser-beam colored. “You're going to melt the ice cream before we get a chance to eat it.”
---
“We're so pleased that you could make it. We are, of course, always interested in whatever experimental measures that can be taken to save the species. Right this way.”
Katrina couldn't help but smile at the memory of asking permission for this mission.
[wibble eyes] “Shin, can I borrow the X-jet for a non dangerous mission to rescue an endangered species of tortoise from near extinction?” [/wibble eyes]
“Lead the way,” she requested, glancing sidelong at her cat eared companion to see if the sound of the ocean and the warm rays of sun were helping his mood at all.
The foggy grey of her eyes spread all around them, immersing them in a cloud of uncertainty. The mists swirled around them and formed shapes of the things that were to come. Or rather, they formed images of the things that Katrina hoped would convince him to stop following the path he was on that would lead to the end of the world. Maybe she could convince him somehow.
A grey cloud swirled into the image of a woman with a long dark braid down her back. She wore a long coat the color of clouds and carried a sword by her side. She was just arriving somewhere, fumbling for a key at the entrance to something, when a pair of masked thugs surprised her. She didn't even have a chance to draw her weapon. She was left on the doorstep with a note pinned to her shirt that said, “This is what happens to muties who start their own religions.”
An unseen breeze stirred the clouds until the formed a new face. A brown haired young man with blue eyes and white cat ears with black spots here and there was surrounded by figures in white hoods. A moment later there was a tiger in his place, leaping toward the edge of the circle. Someone splashed something, another lit a match, and smoke obscured the vision.
At the pier, the brown curly haired young woman was sharing a bag of popcorn with her red headed friend. A man dressed in all white with a netted hat over his face was holding up jars of honey; he was dedicated to selling as many as he could to the crowd. No one expected him to grab the brown haired girl and topple over the edge of the peer. The red head shrieked and leaned over the railing, but all she could see were a few bubbles and a handful of dead insects floating to the surface.
Again the clouds stirred. The spire of a church rose up out of the mists, high above them. All around the church stood people, frozen in place, as if ready to battle. Along one side stood the unicorn with his remaining allies; all the people Katrina and the other oracle kids had seen him with over the past few months. On the other side stood a crowd of protesters, carrying signs proclaiming the unicorn man to be “Antichrist” or “Devil”. One of the college boys, the pretty one with the dark hair, stepped up to ask the protestors to leave when all hell broke loose. Then, a brilliant flash of light and a rush of noise obliterated everything in the vision.
It was another time, but the same place. A group of people stood at the door to the church; a woman with a braid and a sword, a boy with white cat ears that had black spots here and there, a brown haired girl with a bee crawling with familiarity in her hair, four college students, and the unicorn man himself. The meek college girl asked, “What about all the good we promised we would do?” The unicorn man locked the door with great finality and then put the key in the realtor's lock box that hung from the handle. “Trust me, it's for the best,” was his response.
The fog vanished when Katrina put the sunglasses back on her nose. The unicorn man across the table from her was frowning. The petite illusionist frowned back.
“It looks like you have a choice to make,” she observed.
Katrina had almost been tempted to not show up at all, but the preteen seer's texts had been incredibly urgent with lots of capital letters and increasing amounts of exclamation points as the day wore on. It had been so unlike him that Katrina had come to see just what sort of emergency had cropped up.
It had not been easy to evade both Calley and CS right before conditioning class. This was the first time she had skipped phy ed this year, and she was going to have to pay for it tomorrow, probably with an extra several miles.
“I need you to be the oracle today.”
“What?” That made no sense whatsoever. It was Jude that could copy his powers, that could look into the future, not her.
“We need a fake oracle today. We need your illusions,” Alister sounded desperate. It was not often that he sounded anything but calm and collected.
“Why would you want that?” Katrina put her hands stubbornly on her hips. Who would want to tarnish their perfect reputation as a legitimate seer with an imposter?
“He is coming back.” Alister shoved a pair of sunglasses into her hands.
“Oh.” Was he... afraid? Why? “What happens if he comes back and you're the one that's here to greet him?”
The blonde boy shuddered behind his own dark pair of sunglasses, “You don't want to know.”
Katrina knew Alister didn't like looking into the futures of immortals, but this seemed like there was something else behind it. Something a little worse than a using a fork to break out of an endless vision.
“Okay, fine,” she slipped the brand new sunglasses over her eyes, carefully pulling off the tag that was hanging from the center and tickling her nose, “What do I need to do?”
