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 red-head angrily rose from her seat, snatching the microphone from a rather bewildered singer. Jack sat amongst the stunned crowd, brow ridge stitched and antennae back. Somehow, with the promise of a new song, she managed to wrangle the rowdy audience members in. If they behaved, she promised, she’d sing another song.
And sing she did. The prawn nursed her drink, listening to the lady’s melodious voice, letting the lyrics play upon her heartstrings. She couldn’t say that she had personally experienced what the young woman sang about—this degree of physically missing people. Sure, she missed people—missed better days—but there wasn’t really that basic, human longing for having someone “lying next to you” as it were, after love was lost. Zinnia was, admittedly, the first person she’d ever slept beside.
It was a good, long song, however, and Jack followed the redhead through its entirety. Eventually, her companion returned, reclaiming her seat beside Jack.
>> "You work at mansiom, you say?"
“Security, yes,” the prawn confirmed, bobbing her head. She appreciatively commented, “Dat was… quite sun crowd control. ‘as getting ready to get outta here.”
Certainly, she was security—but standing-up for a stranger had some potential backlash when it came to physical mutants.
“What do you, at the Xa’iers?” the prawn asked of the young woman, inclining her head. Jack’s money would be on music, given how melodious the young woman sounded.
She… hadn’t known she had a sister? The prawn said nothing regarding that. It wouldn’t be a mutant school without strange family happenings. Jack ground her mandibles contemplatively, pulling the door shut behind her and Alice. The two of them padded down the halls, Alice fishing-out some sort of snack.
>> "Wait people call you Chief? Hasn't anybody called you 'Big Blue' or something?"
The prawn gave a quiet groan, and a begrudging nod, in response to Alice’s question.
“Nore oss-ten than you’d sink,” the prawn admonished. She’d been “Big Blue” to the travelers that first picked her up after she’d run away from home, she’d been “Big Blue” to the gang that subsequently ruined her young life and caused the death of a good friend… every now and again, even a patron at Chrysalis would drop the “Big Blue” moniker, “It’s a real con-on nay-n when you’re… y’know…”
The prawn gestured to herself—big and blue.
>> "Which way then? Might as well get this over with."
Jack huffed, pantomiming the route they’d take—pointing forward, point left. The security office was a small room just off of the foyer—that’s where the young woman would get written-up. The principal would be notified of the infraction the next day, at which point the young woman’s punishment would be determined.
“Sore sun-one who got ‘usted, you’s certainly in a hurry to get dere,” the prawn teased.
Jack could see that they were winding down. The bear started towards her (and Jack was fully ready to whack it with the frying pan), but its legs failed it and the bear toppled, scarfing something down on the floor. The prawn leaned forward, ascertaining that it was, in fact, food, and not a fellow student. The crocodile-thing, all the while, had backed into the corner, and was glancing around the kitchen wildly. Not. Attacking. The clanging frying pan was silenced.
“Listen u’, you two,” the prawn bellowed, panting from the strain of continuously shouting. Her voice felt raw, but there was still two apex predators in the kitchen, “I need you to return to your hu-nan sha’es. None uz diss alt sorn sh**. Return to nor-nal. Can you hear nee?”
“Crocodile,” Jack said to the giant crocodilian creature, “Can you hear nee? Un-shist. Dis is o’er and done wiss.”
Jack could say neither “polar” nor “bear” intelligibly, so she opted for, “Ey, Snow’all… Are you listening? Un-shist.”
Yeah, she went with Snowball. Hopefully they got it. Either way they’d be in deep trouble, but she couldn’t haul them to the office if they didn’t fit through the door.
Serena. Jack didn’t know a Serena. The prawn shook her head slowly at the inquiry.
“Nah, don’t know ‘er,” the prawn grunted, trudging up the final hill towards the school building, “Dere just aren’t a lot uzz sid-lings around duh school.” There weren’t many mentions of family either, come to think of it. Mostly waifs and strays, “You’re lucky, to has a sister who’s cun to Xa’iers.”
A sister who could relate, who was still involved. And so-on. Jack didn’t know the girl’s situation (or perhaps she would not have been assuming these things about her), but she knew people who weren’t as lucky. People like Jack, who hadn’t seen their families in almost fifteen years.
>> "Jack, I don't want to come across as rude, but what gender are you? Wouldn't feel right just assuming and......"
The two were ascending the steps to one of the many entrances into the Mansion. Jack cast a humored look at the young blue-haired woman, flicking off her flashlight. Downstairs, away from the residential area, a portion of the lights were left on for safety reasons. Someone with an average range of vision wouldn’t need a flashlight.
“I don’t nine’d,” the prawn rumbled. Really, she appreciated the honesty. It amused her, “I’n Jack, as in Jacquelyn. A lady. E’eryone calls nee Jack, doh. Or Chief,” the prawn breathed the “f” out, a strenuous task, “Doh I’n not really in charge uzz any-sing.”
She cracked open the door, nodding inside. Now, the half-light probably cast her in a more definitive shape, dimly highlighting the ridges, curves, and spikes of her chitin. The prawn-beast lingered there, allowing Alice to walk inside before she would follow behind, closing the door.
Ah. Mansion. The prawn’s antennae perked, and she was just about to proclaim that she worked security at Xavier’s, when the singer on-stage all but screeched an awful, ear-splitting note. The prawn ground her mandibles together, her antennae pressing flat. The first sound of a shattering bottle breached her senses, and the prawn straightened, looking towards the stage. People were shouting.
Last time things got this bad, her companion nearly burnt the other bar down. She’d not make the same mistake of getting involved again. Jack had turned her attention to the stage now, one hand still curled around the drink. Security would (hopefully) intervene and the singer would (also hopefully) get the message and get-off the stage. What a bust.
“I work at Xa’iers,” the prawn explained hesitantly, her voice creaking out as she watched the drama unfold, “I’n security. Sought I knew you s-run sun-where.”
>> ”No, I just follow around weird shrimp people for fun. You done?”
The prawn arched a brow ridge at that. Cheeky. Her only response was a grunt of acknowledgement. *scroll, delete* *scroll, delete* *scroll-* The prawn paused. The setting of this photo was different. Dark with a neon glow, thick silhouettes of organic shapes lingering in the shadows. And, front and center, was an unmistakable image of her in a Chrysalis uniform.
"Diligently, it'd seen," the prawn's tone was terse, her expression had darkened, "Including to where I work."
Much simpler than learning the camera's controls was finding the memory card slot. Perhaps she'd already backed those photos up, but that wasn't the point-- no more pictures would be taken today. The prawn flipped the cover open with the tip of a finger on her primary hand, lightly pressed on the card, and removed it. She closed the slot, card curled into her hand, and held the camera for a moment.
The screen was black. Small, white text declared that no photos were available, and to please insert a memory card.
"Iss I see you again," the prawn warned, balancing the memory card between two fingers, "I won't hesitate."
She pinched her fingers together. Crunch. Card gone.
Jack closed the slot and, rather than handing the camera to the woman, extended her arm up above her head. Each of the back doors to the businesses had overhangs above the door, tiny rectangles of concrete supported by steel cables. Jack reached up and placed the camera atop the overhang, giving the blonde an even stare before stalking away. The prawn cut across the street despite the lack of a crosswalk, and strode into the Target parking lot. She had to be more careful.
She seemed vaguely familiar, the red-haired woman. Jack didn't have the wherewithal to think of where she was familiar from, however. Perhaps Chrysalis? A lot of people passed through Chrysalis. That had to be it. The prawn shrugged as the woman resumed guzzling her water, and Jack resumed studying the Old Fashioned with a half-interest. The next act was bad-- really bad.
The prawn flattened her antennae in displeasure, giving a quiet, inconvenienced growl. What an ear-sore. The prawn stole another side-eyed glance at the young woman, her brain still trying to pin the young woman's face to a location. It couldn't have been Chrysalis, despite her prior conclusion.
"Do you..." the prawn began awkwardly, "I nean, has you e'er gone to Chrysalis? It's a nyu-tant clu' in Lower Nan-hattan."
Jack gave a soft “harrumph” as the kid attested that they were new, and therefore not sure of all the rules or the curfew or anything of the like. A likely story. The excuses did nothing to help the child or diminish the impending punishment. They should just be happy that Jack “didn’t know about the booze stash”, although she absolutely did. Alice continued to handle the bulk of the conversation, rattling off about how her sister had gone to Xavier’s and helped her get into the school.
“Has a sister?” the prawn pressed, “‘t’s her nay-n?”
Not that Jack would know them, unless they were a current student. Still, so many students were disowned by their families and disconnected from them, it was nice to hear of some sort of intact family bond. Exceptional, even.
>> “What about you, how long have you worked here?”
Jack mulled-over the question, her mouthparts idly twitching behind the surgical mask. How long had she been there?
“…nearly two years,” the prawn realized, “Two years, in Octo’er.”
Had it really been that long? Yes, she supposed that it had really been that long…
Jack shuffled through the grass, condensation accumulating on her feet.
Alice beamed up at Jack, and the prawn glanced away, giving a mild huff. She wasn’t smart, but at least she caught-on. Hindsight, 20-20. She seemed to brighten when she picked-up what Jack was putting down, and hoisted herself up off of the ground. Alice cracked something about how she’d say it was “nice to meet her” but she’d also wished she hadn’t. A burbling laugh.
“At least you’re honest,” Jack hummed drolly, “Let’s go.”
She walked just behind Alice, keeping the flashlight trained towards the ground (more for the kid’s benefit than her own, honestly). She kept stealing glances as they wandered through the trees, not in the least bit subtle about it. She didn’t seem like the subtle type.
“Still here,” Jack assured the kid, misinterpreting the stolen glances. The two of them broke into the tree-line, the full light of the moon washing over the prawn. She cleared her throat. One of the security personnel would still be awake and chilling at the office in the Mansion.
Jack looked up the hill before looking back at the blue-haired kid. Tonight, the prawn wore a loose hoodie, zipped over a tank top, and a pair of shorts. The surgical mask of the evening was black, and drawn taut over her mouth parts. As she took in the kid’s appearance and juggled the name in her mind, something donned-on the prawn.
“Are you new to Xa’ier’s?”
Her face looked familiar and, truth be told, the prawn didn’t know any Alice’s.
Apparently, this plucky young lady had issues following directions. It was not open to debate. Working at a nightclub had made Jack impervious to such sentiments, however
“Your call,” the prawn said. That was all the forewarning the blonde received before the prawn closed her hand around the camera and yanked it up over her head. Clearing her throat, the prawn released her hold on the woman.
“Relax, just wanna has a look, dear,” the prawn rumbled, the word "dear" uttered with disingenuous vehemence, “Iss you aren’t a d***, I won’t wreck it.”
Don’t be a d***, which entailed—not running, not yelling, and not physically attacking said prawn. One wrong move, and Jack would gladly clench her fist, possibly damaging the camera beyond repair.
After some minor fiddling around, Jack figured-out how to access the recently-taken pictures, a number of which were focused on her, albeit through the hustle and bustle of a crowd. *scroll, delete* *scroll, delete*
“Goodness, you are surr-ow,” the prawn commented, “Dat’s a twenty nin-ute walk and you has how nanny shots uzz nee?”
The girl squeaked a stream of swears, chastising Jack for “giving her a heart attack” and potentially “blindness”. With a wry look in her eyes, the prawn lowered the flashlight towards the ground. She said nothing, letting the child work their way through excuses. Late night gardening was the answer she went with.
“And how are the hedges doing?” the prawn clicked, equally droll, “Cun on, let’s get you inside. Gotta write you u’ sore raking cur-see-ew.”
The punishment for that was a detention—far less severe than smuggling alcohol onto campus.
>> "How'd you catch me, anyway? Thought I did a pretty good job hiding it."
“Hiding what?” the prawn said sweetly, feigning ignorance. Her antennae twitched. Stupid kid, never show all your cards. Twitch, twitch, “Iss you nean, how’d I catch you out diss late, got good eyesight, and really good hearing. Can see you clear as day ‘iss-out duh light.”
Jack shifted her weight, giving an impatient burble. This kid liked to talk, apparently.
“Jack,” the prawn said simply, “Security. You’ll see nee around a lot.”
Not suggesting that “Alice” would get in trouble a lot, just that Jack was frequently around. The prawn cleared her throat and nodded her head in the direction of mansion. She didn’t put forth the extra effort to reveal herself in the shadows. Some kids were jumpy, and who wouldn’t be? Jack was massively tall, and all crustacean-y. Not exactly what sweet dreams were made of.
The lady said something about short-notice, to which Jack nodded understandingly. Ah, that explained it. Given her lack of conversational skills, the prawn let the explanation hang in the air, taking a sip of her Old Fashioned. She might have another drink or two and then head home after the main act. Since an actual night-off was few and far between, she was looking forward to catching-up on sleep.
Her gaze slid towards the scarlet-haired woman, who was drinking as though she’d just crossed a desert and, likewise, sweating profusely. Jack arched an eyebrow, some instinct tickling at the back of her neck. That didn’t seem… normal…
“You okay?” the prawn grunted, “Not lookin’ okay.”
It honestly wasn’t any of her business. And yet, there Jack was, asking.
