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.
The approaching pair certain seemed jovial today, so if they were out to exert authority they were probably quite sadistic. What a wonderful day.
And then the food-decorated mutant was right in front of him and talking and oh dear shiny lord of all things holy the hotdog was right in his face.
He would be good. He would behave himself. He wouldn't snatch it. There was no way he could get out of there - current condition or perfectly healthy - and he wasn't keen on getting pummeled again. Or stabbed by that scorpion tail the other guy had... yes, that was the trick! Focus on the people focus on the people oh no he was staring at the hot dog again focus on the people.
Yes. People. Who were talking. And apparently not particularly interested in continuing that girl's work. That was good. Okay. Foooooocus. He wasn't good at focusing. He had to try. Focusfocusfocus.
Roach and Predator? Even if they hadn't so obviously been mutants, their names would have sealed the deal. Or shown them to be psychotic nutters. Best to go with mutants. He went by Crow, after all. Who was he to judge? There was a distinct honesty to mutant names. He swallowed to try to get the hot dog smell out of his nose and mouth but it just reminded him of how much it was making him salivate. He swallowed again. "Crow," he said by way of introduction. He blinked at the scorpion-guy, er, Predator. "We have a few too many remaining toes to be a pigeon, although some of us were hanging out with some earlier. Might be what you smell."
He tore his eyes away from the hotdog again and pointedly twitched a few aching muscles near the loudest proponents of snatching it. As nice as these two seemed to be, if a little odd in the whole food-wearing thing, it was getting really hard to keep himself together. Literally. He could even feel the slight fuzziness in his right arm as the different birds there argued and squirmed. The will of the group held them together for the moment, though.
"Not special? Of course it's special! You can make something temporary permanent. You can leave a mark in the world." He snorted and winked. "All we do is confuse people and flap around. It has its uses, but it's definitely not permanent." He meandered alongside Andrea.
"Not long, no. A couple of weeks or so? We've been travelling since mid-September, though. Got out of the mountains before the snow hit, fortunately. It's a lot easier to find shelter when the snow's just falling in little pieces, not imitating trains imitating a horde of Spanish bulls." He glanced around quickly, but no one seemed to be paying attention. "We're Canadian, from British Columbia. That'd be the province along the Pacific Ocean. It has pretty much all the mountains in Canada, and they continue on into the states. We're from an island off the coast, but we spent the last few years in Prince George, the biggest northern city in the province. There isn't much but trees and rocks and snow past there." Talking about himself was by no means difficult or awkward, but he was at least superficially aware that he didn't have a passport - all his identification, such as he had, had kind of been melted to ash - and that there were legal issues to his current location. Plus he'd just flown across the border as a bunch of crows. Who recorded crows flying across a non-physical boundary?
He paused to finish the last of his tea and drop it in the trash, and then worked his hands into his backwards pockets to keep them warm. "A lot of the north isn't very friendly to mutants. There were definitely good people, but there are some serious loonies too. This summer was just insane, though. Some religious-ish group got it into their heads that they could fix things by attacking businesses that hired mutants, things like that. We tried to stop them, us and a bunch of other mutants, but they just regrouped and went for our homes. They burned down shelters that didn't turn away mutants, apartment buildings that let us rent. We'd lived in one of the latter. There wasn't much left for us there, after that." He shrugged.
He watched, ever curious, as Andrea looked around before pouncing on a... flower? A late flower, yes. Mostly dead, but still. "We're used to flowers dying much earlier," he admitted, "although it is rather colder than we expected, given how far south this is." He shrugged and watched the flower fade, entranced.
"They must have been amazing," he said quietly, wondrously, and took the little flower gently. He stared at it, the little firm thing cradled in his palm. "We'll treasure it," he said before tearing his gaze away to smile honestly at Andrea. "Thank you." For the moment, the stone flower was tucked into the sleeve pocket of his coveralls. One of the most awkward disadvantages of wearing coveralls backwards was that none of the pockets were designed for access at the resulting angles, and Crow wasn't any more flexible than a human. He gave the pocket a light pat to confirm that it was secure.
As empty as his taunted stomach was, maybe it would be better to just find somewhere to sleep that wasn't too uncomfortable. Heck, he'd take cold and drafty as long as it was soft right now. Something that didn't push against or into his bruises. He definitely had bruises. He didn't think any bird-bones were broken, but bruises, ooooh yes. So very yes. There was absolutely no arguing on the bruises front, except possibly from his very smug left foot. It hadn't been touched. Except now he was walking on it more because his right foot throbbed all along the inside of its current form.
Walking sticks were great. You could lean on them and spread out your weight when walking-limbs were pained, although applying the weight was a bit difficult when the non-walking limbs were equally pained. His gripping hand wasn't too bad, though. He could flex his fingers, at least.
Bird didn't have great senses of smell. Their ears weren't horrible, though, and it seemed that those following him weren't trying to be quiet. He paused, also because he needed to stand on his left leg for a bit and give everything a break. He stretched his less-bruised wing out to the nearest tree to balance and looked behind him.
The insect-guy and stabby-tail-guy - wait, stabby-tail-kid? - were not travelling the same course as they had been. They were definitely coming towards him. He rubbed his face - gently, for he could see the white right wing spreading across the side of his face was already purpling, thanks to the swelling that helpfully angled some of it into view - and sighed. An innocent interest in him? A couple of deranged lunatics? As much as he wanted to think so, not all mutants were decent people. People who had an interest in caring for this area and had seen his scuffle with the human-looking mutant girl?
... He really hoped it wasn't that. He could only apologize so much for the mistake, though, since he definitely had kept trying after it was obvious he'd misjudged the girl. Whatever they wanted, though, he was not outrunning anyone. Maaaybe outflying, as least with enough of himself to survive... theoretically. Still. Wait and face it, or keep going? He really didn't feel like chatting or getting more beaten up right now... except nope, that foot was appreciating its break too much. He tried to look calm and slightly bored and entirely aware of the approaching pair and not in the sort of pain he was actually in. And to not stare at the hotdog. Yeah. That too.
Crow might be excitable and not exactly a master of self-control, but he could tell when he'd crossed a (obvious) line.
He'd crossed a very obvious line.
His own mouth opened and closed a few times, though from an internal war about what to say than from horror and shock. That war might have included a lot of pecking, scratching, and feather-pulling if he'd the appropriate mobility. He did almost break apart, though, so that the more aggressive individuals in his murder might better assault the rest, and there was even a quiver to the markings around his hands and wrists before more logical voices prevailed.
"We're sorry, we're sorry," he cried. "We didn't mean that you would - nothing of the sort! We were just trying to make connections. We're sorry! Speaking without thinking is easier than it seems when you think too many times at once..."
She... she was apologizing? To him? He blinked. He was the one who'd crossed the line with his nosiness. Why should she be apologizing? "No, no no no. Why should you be sorry? We were the ones who who went too far. We're sorry!" Showshowshowshowshowshowshutupshow "Do you want to?" he asked slowly, exerting all the self-control he could muster. He really was sorry.
"Wouldn't it just? But there are worse things than black. Lavender would be unfortunate. It's really not our colour." Yes, rich colours did tend to go better with the black and white and vivid iridescence. His natural glossiness didn't really do pastels, after all.
Andrea looked confused for a moment, but it passed and Crow let it go. If she wasn't interested in talking about something, who was he to push it? Whatever it was. Oh powerchatting! That was always fun!
"Organic things? That's interesting." He peered at the gloves, but they didn't look super-sparkly-magical. Just synthetic, then. That was cool too. "What happens if you do touch organic things? If you don't mind our asking," he added quickly, briefly berating himself for getting too caught up in curiosity. "Or look at them?" Oh this was interesting. Meeting new people was so awesome! He tried to think. Snakes in her hair. Messing with organic stuff. Pretty green skin. There was a connection somewhere, surely.
Plus Greek.
Oh! Oh oh oh oh oh oh! "Are you like Medusa?" he exclaimed, very nearly vibrating (okay, his wings were actually vibrating, bite him) with excitement. "Do you turn people to stone?" It was awesome being able to think so many times at once.
Was... was she calling him evil? Crow was rather bemused. "Good or evil, we're happy getting by. And hanging around divine battlefields after all the dying's started, not being in the middle of it." He laughed. Yeah, trying to run around in the thick of things had earned him some impressive scars and a lot of pain. "Spotted wings could be interesting. Oh! Peacock colours! That would be cool." He spread a wing in front of him to try to imagine it blue and green and eyed and whatever else peacock feathers looked like.
He scratched his head. "We'd thought about slits before, but we couldn't figure out any way to keep the air out. Gets cold where we're from, even with more than coveralls. Part of the reason we came down here. Buckles might help, though." He twisted an arm behind him to feel where buckles would be. Maybe he could do that. It wasn't too - erk, there went his ribs. The feeling of what would probably be cramping (pseudo? whatever) muscles if he could feel that particular spot was quite awkward. Anyway!
He angled his head at Andrea. "You can't wear normal gloves?" he asked curiously, and blinked at her gloved hands.
Crow fluffed his hair sheepishly and turned back. "Hardly! We're just a couple of carrion birds stacked together. And aren't angels supposed to have white wings?" He smirked, flicked them once to emphasize the difference in colour (even if his skin bore both white and black), and folded them. Before they set off, he snaked a foot under the bench and fetched out his stick. Couldn't leave it behind!
Someone... who tailored for mutants? Was it even possible to make clothing he could wear with wings? He'd spent years alternating between cramming his wings into things for warmth and just not wearing shirts. Backwards coveralls were the best he could he could manage right now. He scratched his head as they walked. "Is that even possible?" His wings twitched. "They don't really fit through things. We did have time to experiment at one point. All this -" he gestured at the bench they were leaving behind with his stick "- is pretty recent. Had some misfortune and needed to relocate. Figure it's a pretty common story around here."
He rolled his shoulders, still stiff and sore from his nap but gradually loosening up. "You really think there's a way to wear clothes with these?" he asked after a moment.
Stay together stay together stay together no racing off as fast as his little wings could take him.
Breathe. Don't slosh the tea on bouncing off the bench. Oh, a shoelace came loose. He started to crouch to fix it, only to have Andrea speak. "Hm? Oh, them?" He flexed his wings in confirmation and smiled. "Total pain trying to wear more than pants or trying to fit anywhere, good for balance, otherwise completely useless! Last time we tried to fly with them we nearly broke one. Off work for a week. Not fun." He grinned but extended one for examination while he crouched to deal with his shoelace. Darn it, the sheath was about worn through. It was probably going to snap soon.
He glanced up abruptly, feeling something brush against his wing, and smiled at the curious snake. Straightening, he reclaimed his tea and turned neatly to present both wings to Andrea and her snakes. Staring idly off into the distance, he spread his wings to their full faintly-iridescent extent. "What do you think?"
"It was about all we could think of, okay?" He grinned. "We-" He cut himself off when Andrea suddenly dropped her head. "What? No! It's fine, really! We didn't really grow up with any mutants at all around - had barely heard of them, really. We just got caught up with a cool group after these showed up." He spread his wings again. "We understand entirely. People from our islands just tend to be pretty chill." He smiled reassuringly, hoping he'd explained... something.
It was hard to explain coherently when certain parts of him were being converted by his rebellious hip and chanting Pizza! Pizza! Pizza! endlessly. Wait - there was Greek pizza? REALLY. Crow's skin danced with excitement before he convinced everyone to calm down.
It had been quite a while since he'd come across anyone who blushed so much for a simple compliment. Assuming that green turning brown like that was indeed a blush. He rather thought so, but with some mutants it was incredibly difficult to tell.
Greek food was... um... pitas! and salad! ... right? Yeah. That was about all he was coming up with, though. "Probably? Not much interesting food where we're from, although there was considerably more fish than there is here. There's greek salad, isn't there?" He grinned. Pizzapizzapizzapizza he elbowed his right hip. Pizza.
He cocked his head at her and blinked. "Your appearance? Strange?" Honestly, the thought had never occurred to him. "Andrea, our skin is coloured with the crows that make us up. We've known a slug-whisperer who shared a few of their odder characteristics. Like retractable eyestalks." He shrugged. "It's hard to say if anything looks odd to us anymore."
He didn't even hear the other options. Every single one of his bird brains had fixated on the idea of pizza from the moment her lips shaped the word. Piiiizzzzaaaa.
It was probably showing on his face, wasn't it? Yeah, probably. He hid behind his tea for a moment and tried to distract at least a bit of his attention. It didn't work too well, but he did manage to seize on one tidbit. "You're Greek? That's cool! I don't think I've ever met someone from Greece before. If you want Greek, I would be more than happy to oblige." Piiiiizzzzaaaa no be nice to Andrea. Be nice. But pizza! Nice. But pizza...
Well, Andrea seemed to be taking his situation better than some people had, so he grinned. His grin only widened when she introduced one of the snakes, a large creature draped quite nicely about her. "It's okay if you refer to us as singular," he assured her. "You needn't worry about it."
One of the snake's individualism earned another open smile. "Aren't they just?" he laughed. "We... have a bit of a habit of pulling each other's feathers when we disagree. It's painfully frequent."
He had to scrub the back of his neck, though. "'Fraid we can't suggest anything," he admitted sheepishly. "We aren't from around here, and haven't been here long. We certainly haven't been in a position to peruse the local delicacies. Left home in a bit of an awkward position and all that." Having your home burnt down while an angry mob rampaged through town could certainly be called awkward.
He was confusing her, wasn't he? Darn it. Ah, well, it wasn't the first time and it would hardly be the last. He scrubbed at his face a little with a delightfully warm hand. He'd have to explain-
Oh? He'd meant - well - not for her to spend more money on him. But she was smiling so shyly at him... how was he supposed to turn that down? He smiled back. "Can't say our company's spectacular, but we've never been the sort to turn down conversation." He shook her hand lightly. "Crow. Not very creative, we know, but it's hardly inaccurate." He ducked his head a little sheepishly and gave his wings a small flick.
"Oh - We're sorry," he said quickly, trying to reel himself back to the explanatory track. He gestured at himself, trying to point out his different birds. "Each of these is me, so together we make up - well - we." He shrugged. "We know it's confusing, but don't worry about it."
Looked cold? Of course he looked cold. It was cold out and he was wearing backwards coveralls and sleeping on a bench. That would lend things to be cold. But he had hot tea now! And his hands were very nice and happy now.
So... she was just being nice? Cool. He smiled back at her. "In that case, thanks!"
"Is... is there anyway we can thank you properly? We don't have much, but surely there's something we can do?" He shuffled his feet underneath him once she'd moved off them, trying to keep their new warmth before the chill air stole it all, and, sitting up properly, furled his wings so that they best kept the air off his back.
