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.
>> "... but they wouldn't let you in. Probably me neither. At least, not without a long explanation."
Slate winced, for more reasons than one. Yes. Yes, combine the current situation with Calley’s recent mauling of an X-Man—and the minor fact that most people at the Mansion did not know that he and Calley were different people—and ‘long explanation’ about summed things up.
>> "I don't have any other choice but to trust you.”
He would like to be trustworthy in his own right, but he was quite willing to settle for that.
>> “... and trust that a place where people can put one of those together has someone who can get me back into my original body. And get you your real mercenary back, body and soul. ...No offense, but I prefer being a girl."
“A pity.” Slate’s own lips twitched, just slightly. “I prefer you being Zephyr.”
Frowny face Zephyr was a sight not often seen. Idly, Slate wondered if it would inhabit the realm of his nightmares.
>> "Um. Maybe we should... you know. Go someplace where we can just... talk about this...?"
The ode to his mother, and the many other colorful exclamations being slammed into wheels and shouting with shaking fist accompaniment—or more dexterous positioning of fingers—began to filter back in to Slate’s world.
“Yes,” he agreed. Then once more, for good measure. “Yes. That would be... advisable. Would you be comfortable in returning to Mondragon Labs with me? I could take you to your school, but...” He looked over at the feminine soul in her distinctly mismatched shell.
Additionally, he had a ray gun in the trunk. The Mansion had many curious students best left unaware of that fact.
If Zep—if Lily agreed, they would soon be driving towards Queens, and the wide expanse of the Labs.
>> "I think I can arrange a meeting. Should I just contact you at Mondragon Labs when the arrangements are made?"
This meeting—somewhat rocky start aside—had gone very well. Better than he could have hoped, in fact. “That would be quite appreciated, yes. Thank you, Mr. Jacobs.”
>> "I'll probably try to get us all together within the next two or three days. Would you like to invite your acquaintance to the meeting as well? Then we could make the offer to both of them at the same time."
“Yes,” Slate agreed, “I believe I will. It would be good for all of us to meet each other.” He took another nibble of his Danish, then sat up somewhat straighter, and attempted to chew and swallow more quickly than usual. A brief cough later, he suggested: “My acquaintance is actually holding the grand opening of his business, soon. Would you be interested in attending? Perhaps you could invite Ms. Altair, as well.”
((ooc: Meeting place and time suggested by Sebby, if all parties find it convenient. ))
The light was turning yellow as Zephyr began to speak. Slate contemplated running it, but slammed on the brakes as an aggressive old woman with a walker decided she was crossing. Now.
>> "...but I'm not Zephyr at all."
...
>> "... I mean, the body is his, but he's not in it, because I am. I'm a mutant too, but with different powers, and I don' usually go around snatching other people's bodies... hell I'm not even a guy. My name is..."
... ...
>> "... Lily”
The light turned green again. Slate did not seem to notice. He was staring directly ahead, his hands on the wheel.
>> “- nice to meet you, by the way - and I go to a school for mutants, and this morning I woke up like this, and I have no idea what happened, and I had no intention to lie to you, but things just happened too quick. Um. So. I'm sorry. And please believe me, I know it sounds weird, but I'm telling the truth."
As a symphony of car horns sounded behind him, the blue eyed teenager asked the only question one possibly can ask, when one’s employee reveals himself to be a herself. Named Lily.
“You are joking, right?”
He had a very bad feeling, however, in that regard. It was something of a Catch-22. For Zephyr to be joking, this would have to be Zephyr. For this to be Zephyr, he would have to be lacking a sense of humor. If he was lacking a sense of humor, then—
Then Slate had just dragged a Mansion student along to pick up his ray gun. From an illegal auction. Hosted by mutant supremacists. Which had descended into violence. And nearly gotten ‘her’—and himself—killed.
Cortez had exceptional wit in the face of death. Curious. Slate tilted his head, observing the long dialogue. The reasons Ms. Lenna had chosen to aid him, rather than her employer, became rather apparent rather quickly. That no love was particularly lost between them was hard to miss, even for Slate.
That Cortez was about to die, likewise. That would be... inconvenient.
“Lenna,” he tried to interrupt. Too sensibly spoken of a word, given the emotional context.
>> "You're right. It is inevitable. I’m gonna kill you to shut you UP!!”
Slate was not particularly good in a fight: things happened too fast, and from too many sides at once. There was no time to think: only to react. Slate’s instincts, in that regard... could be described fairly as ‘ill-developed’. This, however, was much more straight forward than a fight. There was one action for him to focus upon: her finger beginning to curl down on the trigger. There was one solution: he had to stop her.
“Lenna!” The teenager rushed forward, attempting to shove her arm down.
Cortez was very close to being one of Slate’s own, now. Closer than he would find comforting, in all likelihood. Slate took care of his own. Lenna could shoot him all she wished: it would not due for her to kill him, however.
Slate needed no more incentive than that to put the Ferrari into reverse and—somewhat more rapidly than was generally advised—vacate the parking lot. Outside, he merged into traffic ruthlessly, and began to haphazardly jostle lane positions to get them farther away, even in the congested city traffic: in other words, he drove like a normal New Yorker.
Slate’s shoulders shook silently for a moment. He couldn’t quite help what came next: he laughed. (This moment of inattention allowed a taxi cab to cut them off.)
“You really are different, Zephyr,” he said. Normally, the mercenary seemed all too bored with life, and all things in it: the idea that something could be too much excitement for his blood... Slate grinned. (And slammed on the brakes, as another cabbie swerved in front of them.)
“What precisely happened to you?” He asked. A topic which, perhaps, was somewhat overdue.
>> "I actually know the owner of the Full Circle book store. I'm sure that Ms. Altair would be very tempted by the offer.”
Slate blinked over his Danish (which had, at some point, found its way to his mouth again). That was quite fortuitous. He swallowed hastily. “Excellent. From all that I have heard, she would be a perfect member.” Even more so than Mondragon Labs and Jacobs & Jacobs Security: Ms. Altair’s store, after all, had quite literally been founded upon the principles about which they now spoke.
>> "...Would you prefer for me to contact Ms. Altair alone or would you like come along with me? Whichever you prefer will be fine with me."
“I would be interested in being introduced to her, if you have the time. She sounds like a very interesting woman.” The teenager replied. “Would you care to set up the meeting for us, then?”
List updated with current sign ups! Check it for accuracy, please.
Lenna--yep, we can easily say that given her past run-ins with the Kabal, she was offered full membership rather than mere Commissioner status. *signs her up*
Shin, Roland, Abyss--tell me if that gets more specific.
Shade--feel free to get captured! I'd recommend after you kill the guy/gal. Messy escapes after a job well done == the best of both worlds! Feel free to run that however you want, though, of course.
[/i] action is at. Come and haul around insincere smiles and bags of cash to local politicians, for the good of the mutant cause. (The X-Men will know about this, so X’s: you can join too, as long as you’re with at least one Kabal member. They’ret the ones with the cash, after all. )
Wanted: Kabal members/Commissioners and X-Men. Open to solo posters and small teams. The more the merrier!
Currently signed up: Martin & Dryad, Zephyr & Katrina (keephersafeordie, aeromancer), Lenna, WereCat, Circe[/ul]
Hello, National Bank (In Progress)
[starting early/mid November]
Healing the Resistance Leader
[/i][/ul]
[starting late Nov/early December]
Senate Bombing
[starting mid-December]
Camps breakout!
[starting: at your leisure/all month]
You said what about my mutant mother?
Borders shmorders
The Camps
X’s and O’s—talk to your respective team leaders if you want a mission not on this list. Kabal, talk to me. And remember, feel free to spice things up with personal threads. Seems like there will be an interesting group of people assembled here...
Remember: aim to have all your missions/personal threads wrapping up by mid/late December—that’s when the Camps breakout, this plot’s closing event, will begin.[/color]
Training. It was, perhaps, something Slate needed to do more diligently. The past few months had not been particularly kind to him. If he was not a healer, he would be rather dead. Even being a healer, he had died—and he had not gotten better, without outside intervention. Additionally, his wardrobe was suffering to an alarming degree—being a dress shirt on his person was turning into some sort of garmentary death sentence.
Therefore, training. Yes. He would do that, at some point.
For today, however: he was here to observe and aid in Iron Mouth’s training. The need to go to Romania was approaching at an alarming rate; their Senate had officially put the Registration Act on its next order of business, and the Romanian Resistance was stirring like a beast of the depths disturbed. He was checking, and double-checking, that all things were ready. And during the last takeover, his lack of preparation had gotten himself and Tarin tortured.
It was not really that Iron Mouth needed additional training: his recent mission to Colombia had gone quite well, by all reports. It was more... that Slate needed to check. Check everything. Repeatedly. For the sake of his poor shirts, if nothing else.
The raygun went into the trunk. Slate got into the driver’s side, and sat down. Pulled his seatbelt across his chest, and clicked it shut.
Then he stared, for a very long moment, out through the windshield.
“Well,” he said, “we appear to have survived.” Something in his voice was, perhaps, surprised by this fact. Amazing that the man had actually stood aside for them—the entire way out the door, Slate had felt as if he would be pounced upon at any moment, using whatever ability the man was hiding. But he wasn’t, nor was Zephyr. Even now, he felt like he would look towards the hotel entrance, and see the man looking back with some sinister smile on his face. But—(and Slate took a moment to reassure himself of this fact)—the man was not there.
They had survived. Apparently. Slate’s shoulders shook for a moment with silent laughter. He looked over towards his fellow blue-eyed teenager, with a grin.
“Shall we get the Hell out of here?”
The Kabal’s Leader had been told that, in certain circumstances, swearing quite enhanced a sentence. This was his first time testing it out. The results were quite satisfactory to his ears.
>> "Some people say that mutants are the next step in evolution. The species that will wipe out humans and take control of the planet."
Slate held his own peace as Luke picked this inopportune moment to chew. Where was his man’s own opinion, on that subject? Simply because he was an X-Man did not guarantee he was on the other side of the debate; Slate had known certain X-Men who most certainly were not.
>> "They compare us to animals that fight and tear into each other for almost no reason over things like food and territorial rights. Perhaps they're right about some people but I prefer to think that we are above the animals. We can reason and have moral beliefs that hold us in check. There's no reason for one species to always wipe out the other. If it’s possible to co-exist peacefully then I think that's what we need to do."
Something in Slate’s stomach relaxed; he lifted his own danish, and took another bite. (It was, again, delicious.)
>> "I'd be honored to be a part of this alliance. Do you have any other companies in mind for us to approach?"
Slate’s smile answered the man’s own. “An acquaintance of mine will soon be opening a medical clinic for both mutants and humans; I believe he would join us. Additionally, there has been a bookstore in the news recently for promoting a human and mutant ‘safe zone’—the Full Circle, I believe. I would like to contact its owner; it seems quite likely she would be of a similar mindset. Aside from that... Do any companies come to your mind?”
Individual Character's full name: Charles Triggs Gender: Male Age: 26 Birthday: April 1, 1983 Nationality/ Ethnicity: Finnish/mutt American Birthplace/ Home/ Place of origin: Michigan
Appearance Hair colour and style: brown with red died tips; short Eyes: blue Height: 5’6” Build: A bit stocky.
Everyday clothing style: Cargo shorts and a T-shirt with some sort of catch phrase, or a black guard uniform, depending on the situation.
Character Personality: Frank Newton is a red-blooded American. He likes his steaks, he likes his women, and he likes his guns. He likes poker, too, and people with a sense of humor. ‘Crude’ and ‘lewd’ are good synonyms for his own sense of humor. Job or part time job and description: A guard/soldier at Mondragon Labs.
Mutations None: human.
Fighting Style Give the boy a gun, and keep him away from that rocket launcher Frank might or might not have.
History Of Your Character Charles was a farm boy in Michigan, moonlighting as a lady’s man. Long story short: the army is great at sending a hearty boy off to boot camp before the shotgun wedding can be arranged. What? He sends the kid birthday cards. Really lucrative ones. Last Thanksgiving, his grandma called him up to ask if he was working for the mafia.
“No, Grams,” he told her (speaking loud enough for her hearing aid), “I work at a medical company, remember? The killing people is just a side thing.” And it really was, lately. Bor~ing.
Individual Character's full name: Nicholas Williams Gender: Male Age: 27 Birthday: August 11, 1982 Nationality/ Ethnicity: German/Irish/mutt American Birthplace/ Home/ Place of origin: New Orleans
Appearance Hair colour and style: Light brown/blonde, short. Eyes: Green-grey. Height: 6’0” Build: Think and tall—stork-like
Everyday clothing style: A blue windbreaker and jeans, or a black guard’s uniform, depending on the situation.
Character Personality: Nicholas is very pleasant, polite, and nice. He also likes to cut things. Generally smiles while talking. Is very sincere, in a somewhat distant manner. Is a professional when the situation calls for it; is very good at poker and darts, the rest of the time. Job or part time job and description: A guard/soldier at Mondragon Labs.
Mutations None: human.
Fighting Style Knives. Many knives. He can use guns, off course—sniper rifles are very nice.
History Of Your Character Nicholas is the second son of a butcher’s daughter. He was born in New Orleans, and liked to help out around his grandpa’s shop. Pigs, sheep, fish, cows—he liked the job. The way the knife went in, through hair and flesh, past muscle; the way the freshness of the meat, and the species, and the age, could all be heard through that cut, if a boy just listened.
After wandering off from high school, he joined up with the US Army for a bit, then some other armies for other bits. Eventually, he found himself at Mondragon Labs—and here he is.
Individual Character's full name: Frank Newton Gender: Male Age: 37 Birthday: June 15, 1972 Nationality/ Ethnicity: Swedish/German American Birthplace/ Home/ Place of origin: Connecticut
Appearance Hair colour and style: Black, short Eyes: Brown Height: 6'2" Build: thick, but not with fat
Everyday clothing style: A black suit or black guard uniform, depending on the situation. All clothes are loose, generally.
Character Personality: The silent, hulking type. Tends to watch everything around him without comment, and without trace of humor. Tolerates everything, especially children and animals, unless ordered otherwise. Job or part time job and description: A guard/soldier at Mondragon Labs.
Mutations None: human.
Fighting Style Incendiary weapons expert. Tends to be carrying an unspecified number on him at any given time; hence the loose clothing. May or may not have a rocket launcher stored under the back seat of his jeep at the Labs, that may or may not have escaped Slate's de-weaponizing spree.
History Of Your Character ...He used to have a dog, as a kid. Big, floppy-eared blood hound.
....
...Frank Newton doesn't talk about his past much. Not that there was anything wrong with it. He just doesn't talk much, in general.
))