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.
Posted by Jiri O'Leary on Jul 18, 2015 10:26:22 GMT -6
Gamma Mutant
290
35
Jul 27, 2018 20:39:53 GMT -6
The lighting effects were cool. Very realistic. The bus driver had put on his hazard lights--and slammed his doors firmly closed again, the nice chap. Cars streamed around them, one long line of horns and squealing brakes and white headlights red taillights yellow streetlights.
A couple drivers were flashing phones as they went past, but no one was stopping, no one was helping the kid surrounded by three others. Bystander effect, just like in real life.
Angry was grinning a downright feral grin. His arm was hanging at his side, bleeding, but he'd stopped putting pressure on it. Couldn't put pressure on it and brandish the knife at the same time. The man had his priorities.
"Your parents ever take you fishing, before they figured out what you were? Ever gutted a fish? Got to slide the blade into the gut, and pull up--" He mimed the action, just in case the teen was slow on the uptake. "Just like that. That, you little aboman-abow--"
"Abomination," the nervous one helpfully put in.
Angry shot a don't need your help glare to his friend, then focused back on the scruffy teen. "That is what I'm going to do to you."
Jiri rocked back and forth where he stood in the circle around the kid. Heel to toe, heel to toe. "Talk talk talk," he said. "Very scary. Can I try?" He held his hand out for Angry's knife.
"You are higher than a kite, I am not giving you my knife." This showed a practicality on the Angry man's part that Jiri hadn't really been expecting. It was actually a little sweet. D'awww, he cared about his thug companions. What a wholesome, Hallmark beat down this was.
Nervous tittered. "You've got a knife in your waistband. You are wasted, man."
God damn it, the voice in Jiri's head said, with quite a bit of emotion. He sounded calmer now, more resigned to fate. Do not get me stabbed.
"I am totally getting stabbed," Jiri laughed, and patted himself down until he found the knife. It wasn't a fancy-pants click-open model like Angry's, but when he unfolded it, it was sharp enough. A little flecked with rust, but sharp. A special tetanus edition.
Jiri stepped up to the kid, his trusty rusty in hand. "My first knife fight," he grinned. "Be gentle?"
With no further ado, he lunged forward for a stab, a bit like a puppy running out to play.
Posted by Jiri O'Leary on Jul 18, 2015 9:28:30 GMT -6
Gamma Mutant
290
35
Jul 27, 2018 20:39:53 GMT -6
It was one of those dreams were things happened really fast, sort of blurred together.
The boy screamed right next to him, for one. Jiri flinched away, rubbing at his ear. Now that was just louder than a dream had any right to be.
it's not a dream you freak get out of my head--
"Don't talk back," he said, and flicked his own forehead.
"Christ you freak I'm gonna--" Angry was screaming at the kid, and clutching his own arm.
"Get off!" The bus driver was shouting. They'd stopped, middle of traffic, horns blaring as the drivers behind them startled. It was late, but this was New York: therefore, the street still had a decent traffic flow. The doors opened at front and back. "I got cameras in here! I'm calling the police! You all get off!"
"Now that's not very nice," Jiri said. "This young man's a victim. Gonna stab him up in an alleyway if you--"
"GET OFF!"
" 'Kay," he obliged happily enough. The kid was going out one door of the bus; Jiri trotted after him, at a rather unconcerned pace. Nervous tumbled out just a moment after him, and Angry followed a second later, leaving a bloody hand print smeared over Jiri's swastika as he shoved past. Angry had a bit more motivation for moving fast.
All right, then. This was a chase dream. So Jiri gave chase, trailing languidly at the back of the pack.
Posted by Jiri O'Leary on Jul 17, 2015 23:34:44 GMT -6
Gamma Mutant
290
35
Jul 27, 2018 20:39:53 GMT -6
The boy's dream broke like a soap bubble, or a snow globe dropped: shattered, on the floor in pieces, not so restful no more.
Jiri tilted his head so he could watch the teen's face better, resting his cheek on the fabric of the seat back. It smelled like old sweat and vintage bubble gum.
he's reaching for something MOVE you idiot you're going to get us killed--
His arm snapped towards the kids face, fingers half-curled into a fist. Jiri stopped it an inch or so before it touched. He wiggled the fingers, flexed them, felt the cold air of the bus' AC as it streamed between them.
"Just gonna get you killed," Jiri corrected that angry desperate scared oh god voice in his head. This was just a dream for Jiri, just a dark dream, he couldn't really get hurt in a dream.
Angry man wasn't waiting for the knife to get fully drawn. He surged forward with his own knife, aiming for a cut somewhere in the kid's side or stomach. Something that would bleed nice and fast if it sunk all the way in, something that would hurt.
"Where's that friend of yours, huh?" Angry growled. "The one that broke Dave's knee? Maybe we should break your knee, huh?"
Nervous, meanwhile, had jumped awkwardly up, trying to grab the kid's arm over the seat that divided them, trying to stop him from doing anything with those blades of his.
Up front, the bus driver's eyes flashed to his rear mirror. He slammed on the break, hard.
The sudden lurch slid Jiri just that extra bit forward in his seat, his arms draping forward. He started tapping out the beat to the song in his head, right on the teen's chest.
Sandman, I'm so alone Don't have nobody to call my own Please turn on your magic beam Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream
Posted by Jiri O'Leary on Jul 17, 2015 22:44:43 GMT -6
Gamma Mutant
290
35
Jul 27, 2018 20:39:53 GMT -6
Jiri wondered what the dog would smell now, if it had been here still, if he'd still been it. The angry man had smelled like a bruise, all broken under the skin where things festered. Now he was smiling. Jiri stood behind the other two as they got on the bus, and saw that smile spread. It crept to both his cheeks. It crept up to his eyes. It crept and spread, until the nervous guy behind him was smiling, too, and sort of chuckling under his breath. What color was that chuckle? What texture?
Jiri smiled too, and mimed a hat tip to the bus driver. The driver didn't really look at them, just closed the doors and lurched the bus back into action. The man's music spilled out of his earbuds and down the aisle, and Jiri did a little slide-dance as he followed the other two down the aisle.
Besides the driver, there was only one other passenger.
Nervous sat in front of the kid. Angry sat right next to him. Jiri took up the seat behind. He leaned forward, draping his arms over either side of the kid's shoulders. Not quite touching, not quite caring if he did, his chin next to the kid's head.
"He looks so peaceful. All sleepy-headed," Jiri murmured. The boy was his age, or thereabouts, and a little smaller, a little scruffier. "Like a puppy."
Sleep.
He made it look so easy.
"Be a shame to wake him up," the angry man said. He was still grinning. He'd never stopped.
"Real shame," the nervous one agreed, his arm draped over the back of the seat, his leg twitching in front of him. "Ain't even got anything he could work with, here, use that freak power of his. Just like a puppy." His twitchy leg mimed kicking said pup.
In Jiri's head, a hard little ball of rage was welling up, and a kind of memory. A forest, then pain why did the freak do that it was just a bit of fun ain't need to go that far--
Jiri noticed that the man's arm was hurting. Not the one with the swastika tatt: the other side, under a white bandage.
"All fun until someone gets out a knife," Jiri murmured into the kid's ear. "Now why'd you go and do that? It hurt."
"Can't let him get away with it," the angry man sighed, as if truly disappointed. "Brought this on himself."
"Brought it on himself," the nervous one echoed.
If the boy wasn't awake yet, the quiet shink of a blade sliding out might just do the trick. The angry man smiled as he danced the knife across the back of his fingers.
Jiri started humming again.
Give him two lips like roses and clover Then tell him that his lonesome nights are over
Posted by Jiri O'Leary on Jul 17, 2015 16:55:42 GMT -6
Gamma Mutant
290
35
Jul 27, 2018 20:39:53 GMT -6
Jiri was dreaming again.
In his dream, he was a dog. A black lab, out for a late night run with its master. Alert. There weren't really thoughts, but there were feelings and they were close enough.
protect the master protect the master good dog
The smells were intense. It was like having synesthesia--the night had a texture to it, almost, a taste, a color. There were three men over there, facing a wall that ringed the Mansion
(he remembered the Mansion, this is where he was going to school now--)
One of them was squinting up at it, and he smelled like dark purple like a deep bruise discontent mad and one was keeping a lookout yellow nervous like pee and one was
Well, one really was peeing, right on the brick wall. Classy.
growl growl growl
"Evenin', Miss. You go to school here--hey hey, come back!"
scruff up tail high protect the master good dog
In the dream, like dreams do, he wasn't the dog anymore--he was one of the guys, jeering as the girl picked up the pace and booked it to the other side of the street. She brandished her cell phone at them, 911 already lit up on the screen, and her mutt growled back at them as they ran.
The guy who'd been peeing spit after her. "Mutie slut."
Jiri looked down at his hands. They were tan, deeply veined, dirt under the nails, scrapes on the knuckles, pin pricks on the arms. A swastika tattoo on the bicep, why not. Classier and classier. There were real thoughts now, not dog-thoughts.
what's going on what's going on--
"Sssh," Jiri cooed, "relax. Just a dream," but that really didn't seem to calm the man down.
"You say something?"
Jiri grinned. "Not a damn thing. So what we doing again?"
The third guy, the one who'd smelled nervous to the dog, gave a high laugh. "Told you not to take so much. You ain't going to remember anything from tonight." And he kept laughing until the man who smelled like anger back handed him.
"Come on. They got security, here. Let's go downtown. Find someone else on the list." He grinned. "Or maybe someone not."
The dream followed them as they caught a bus. Missed their first connection, swore, beat up a tramp to make themselves feel better.
let me go, I swear I won't tell them, I won't tell no one what you did--
Jiri started whistling Mr. Sandman.
Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream Make him the cutest that I've ever seen--
Next connection rolled in ten minutes later.
Three thugs got on the bus. The one who smelled like anger stopped just inside, then smiled.
Posted by Jiri O'Leary on Jul 17, 2015 15:17:47 GMT -6
Gamma Mutant
290
35
Jul 27, 2018 20:39:53 GMT -6
Individual
Character's full name: Jiri Sean O'Leary Alias/ Nickname/ Code name: Forum name: InvasionOfTheBS Gender: Male Age: 17 Date of Birth: January 1, 1999 Birthplace/ Home/ Place of origin: Warwick, New York Nationality: American Ethnicity/ Cultural Heritage: Mixed Iranian/Irish heritage. There's a story there, and one day his parents will stop smirking and tell him.
Appearance
Hair color and style: Black, short, curly Skin Tone: Olive Eye Color: Green Height: 5'11” Build: A cross between a beanpole and a puppy still growing into its feet. Visible mutation: Not visible in the physical sense, but he's prone to narcoleptic fits, particularly when not actively moving around. Scars/ Tattoos/ Piercings: NA Other features: NA
Everyday clothing style: He's that guy that can pull off a pink dress shirt and a fedora, or a purple velvet suit. There is no shame and a surplus of exuberant hilarity in his wardrobe. Uniform: When you look this good, you ain't wanna cover it up. Sleepwear: Sleepwear implies sleep. Oh god sleep. Miscellaneous clothing: NA
Character
Personality: Jiri is a generally affable guy, when awake. When he thinks he's sleeping? Extremely unpredictable, though his usual motivation remains having fun. Hobbies/ Interests: Sleeping. Sleep meds. Meditation. Pillows. Testing beds at mattress stores. Sleep aid music. Soccer. Job or part time job and description: High school student Fears/ phobias/ concerns: That he's never going to wake up, not ever again, or maybe he already has and he just doesn't know and he never will never will never tell the difference again Special talents: Is conversationally fluent in Farsi (Persian) as well as English, with a smattering of Gaelic (mostly swears, thanks mom). Can wear suspenders with slacks and make it look good.
Morality
Good/ bad/ neutral/ other: Awake, Jiri is a normal kid. He's a mediator, and a class clown: he's the guy who breaks up a fight by getting between people and making the lamest possible joke. He would never hurt a fly.
Asleep, well… a little shenanigans in dreams never hurt anyone, now did they? Due to his power, Jiri is having an increasingly difficult time distinguishing dream from reality, and is consequently prone to acting as a dreamer might. See someone punting a puppy? See if you can pull one of those awesome flying tiger leaps from subtitled movies and punt them! See a bank robbery in progress? Grab a cheesy mask and join in! Someone ticks him off? That someone is standing near a high ledge? Just shove the guy off. It's a dream, who cares.
The splat is almost as satisfying as if it were real.
Mutations
Mutation description: Narcoleptic body snatcher/dreamwalker.
Whenever Jiri sleeps, he unwillingly leaves his own body and possesses the nearest weak mind, be it animal or human. From there, he can direct his hops to other bodies within a 100 yard range. If the target is awake, he possesses them and can control their actions. If the target is asleep, he joins their dream.
(With PCs/important NPCs, this will only be done with OOC permission, of course.)
Strengths: While possessing a body, he experiences the full range of sensory and mental chatter that the person/animal does, and can direct their actions to an extent. With animals, this is generally full control. With people, this can range from full control over weakened minds (such as coma victims, people on heavy drugs, small children, and sleepers) to just being along for the ride as a voice in their head (as with psychics, and those trained to resist psychics). He has a weak sense of mental presences around him (a “there's someone or something that-a-way” sense, no specific details on who, what, or exactly where the thing is). If he slips into a sleeping mind, he has no means of waking the sleeper up, and he simply joins them in experiencing their dream in the role of a lucid dreamer. As lucid as he ever gets... It's the closest he gets to real sleep.
Weaknesses and Limitations: Most people fall somewhere in-between his control spectrum (resulting in a body tug-of-war over what they'll do next, and some inter-caranial negotiation on that front), and psychics can generally block him out completely. Cannot control a target's thoughts/emotions, only their physical actions. In his initial hop, he has little or no targeting. The minds he enters are conscious of his invasion and retain all memories of what happened. While animals can't usually fight him, people generally can, especially on actions they feel strongly about. When his body wakes up, or when he's exposed to an Adapted's field, he snaps back to his body. On each hop, he can only possess a person/animal within a 100 yard range of his consciousness. He can hop repeatedly, but there's an exponentially longer cool down period after each (exponential as in the literal mathematical curve. First few hops are easy, then things get really hard, really fast). He hops when his body sleeps, which leads to two very real drawbacks: first, his body is fully exposed and defenseless while he's hopping. Second, his consciousness is incapable of sleep, as any attempt at sleep activates his power. He cannot turn his power off without staying within an Adapted's range. While Jiri is physically healthy, his mind has been deteriorating since his power first activated. He is reasonably certain that he's living one long inception-like dream, and that he's going to wake up in his bed and be a normal, non-mutant kid again.
Physical Abilities
General Physical Capabilities: Jiri's a normal high school teen. He can throw a punch, but he's never been in a real fight. When he's reasonably sure he's awake, he'll try to joke his way out of things and defuse situations before a real fight starts. If he thinks he's asleep… anything goes. Especially since dying might just wake him up. Fighting Style: NA Fighting Style Pros/Cons: NA
History Of Your Character It started with the narcolepsy. Falling asleep in school after a night out with friends wasn't that worrying. Neither was falling asleep on the couch while his dad and he watched soccer. He loved games, he loved the time with his dad, but he'd always been more of a player than a spectator. He started watching what time he went to bed, gave himself a curfew, took naps.
It didn't help.
He fell asleep during the middle of midterms. He fell asleep at dinner, and woke up with his tot of a sister laughing her head off as he gargled curry (pro tip: never, ever get curry up your nose). He fell asleep while he was practicing driving, and watched from somewhere up high as his mom pulled the wheel and they slid up over the curb and trashed a mailbox and the fender. He went to the doctor, got meds.
It didn't help.
Sometimes he dreamed he was one of those godawful sparrows that lived in the lilac bushes outside his windows. He did sparrow things, cheeped and flitted and got the other sparrows freaked out by chasing them. It was kind of funny. Sometimes he dreamed he was his sister, and he'd take her drawing of their house and add in a dino and then she'd laugh and grab a big fat red crayon and add in an explosion effect, and he'd laugh too, and it would sound like her voice. Sometimes he woke up because she was jumping on his bed, holding the picture, asking him to add more more more and sometimes he dreamed he could see her jumping through the eyes of the neighbor's cat, watching from the upstairs window next door. He dreamed he was going insane.
He dreamed that no matter how much he slept, it didn't help. The meds didn't help. The therapist—they got him one of those, too—it didn't help.
didn't help didn't help didn't
He dreamed that dick at school was feeling up one of the girls again, feeling up a goddamn freshman in the lunch line who does that and then he was picking up one of those little plastic knives and wondering how deep it would sink if he put it through that moron's hand
and he got his food and set it down
and he walked over to the dick's table
and he did just that, and it went pretty satisfyingly deep and he kind of laughed in surprise. But everyone was screaming, even the girl the dick had been a dick to
and the school cop was there going “Hey easy, easy, why don't you come with me son.”
“I haven't been sleeping well,” Jiri said down to the hand on his arm, a big hand, kind of friendly but he didn't really think the guy got it, didn't understand and they sat him in one of those conference rooms off the main office where the SPED kids got to have their cool downs after tantrums and he put his head down on the table and it was cool against his head and he tried to sleep
he tried so hard
it didn't help
Roleplay Where did you learn about this site?: Former player of Calley, et al Do you have any other characters on MRO, if so who: (Inactive:) Calley, Slate, Rupert, Maxine, Bennu Sample RP: They said he was a mutant. First they said he was crazy, then they said he was a mutant, and he didn't know why but one of them sounded worse than the other.
Jiri was pretty sure he was awake right now. Like, eighty-two percent sure. He'd just been dreaming something really psychedelic, so he was pretty sure that was a dream, which meant he was awake. By contrast.
His roommate was still asleep on the next bed over. He didn't have his own room in the psych ward. He wasn't that crazy, which made him really nervous for just how crazy some of these other people must be.
They said he'd stabbed someone in the cafeteria. With a plastic knife. And then he'd gibbered for awhile, and maybe kicked a cop in the kneecap and acted all kinds of psycho as they tried to put him in the car. They said. He'd had a dream like that, once. It was sort of fading, now.
“Here's your lunch, Jiri,” a nurse said, and set the tray in front of him. Jiri liked the guy. He was pretty friendly, smiled, had sat down and explained how things worked when they first brought Jiri here. Better than the other nurse; the littler one. Jiri had dreamed he was that guy, had dreamed he stole things from the rooms, from the supply closet, from the pill tray. In the dream the guy had walked himself to the staff bathroom and looked himself in the eye in the mirror.
“I'm going to punch you now, 'cause you're a dick. Also a clepto. Seriously, did you need that stapler? Put the damn thing back, and stop messing with my meds. I need those. I need to sleep.”
And then the guy had curled up his fingers into a fist, and decked himself in the eye, even though Jiri heard him saying stop it stop it leave me alone the whole time.
One of the doctors had stopped by to draw blood that night. “New test,” he'd said, and smiled thinly.
“Will it help me sleep?”
“Sure,” the guy had said.
Now they were saying he was a mutant, and he was going to go to a boarding school, and no one was going to press charges against him if he did. They were going to help him there, they said.
