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 prawn chewed slowly, her antennae twitching at the sound of quiet footfalls. Jack swallowed her current bite, lavender gaze sliding towards the entry to the dining hall. Most students weren’t eating at this hour.
Jack met a pair of dark eyes. Completely, inky black. Their face wasn’t familiar, which left Jack wondering if they were a new student. She knew or at least recognized nearly everyone.
Having paused in eating, Jack took a moment to click a greeting the girl’s way, “Hey.”
If she was a student, a kid, Jack felt even more compelled than usual to be welcoming to them. While most kids were cool with a behemoth like herself, some were a little timid, at least first. Jack did her best to be as small and as unintimidating around the kids. She wasn’t trying to scare them—she wanted to protect them. And, in order to keep them safe, they needed to trust her.
“Hasn’t seen you around ‘e-sore,” the prawn greeted. She touched a primary hand to her chest, “I’n Jack, I’n on security here.”
Posted by "Chief" on May 11, 2017 12:54:56 GMT -6
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Beta Mutant
darkturquoise
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Apr 25, 2024 23:17:11 GMT -6
Sophy
Jack plopped herself onto the couch, gently setting the mug on the coffee table. Browning meat took longer than popping leftovers in the microwave, so she could afford to sit for a few moments. The energy of the brisk walk home was wearing-off. She was at the tail end of a shift, on the cusp of a much-deserved night's sleep. She tended to be very lethargic in the wee hours of the morning.
>> "Hab you ever giben up on a dream?"
A slow, lavender gaze fastened onto the boy's shoulders. His stature was similar, but smaller. He was hunched, as if the frying pan was steadily drawing him in. That was a sudden and spontaneously deep question to ask someone you'd only recently met.
The statuesque woman pondered the inquiry, folding one leg over the other. To give-up on a dream, you had to have on in the first place. Jack couldn't say that she had one, off the bat-- she just wanted a normal life, free of crime. And thus far, she'd avoided that. She'd been so focused on survival, however, she hadn't given much thought to "dreams". However dismal that might seem.
There were obviously deeper thoughts churning in the young man, it wouldn't do to say "yes" or "no" outright. She went back in the memory banks, back in the mental archives, thinking of any dreams she might have held. She though of Chelsea, her first love, and how the emergence of her mutation spoiled their blossoming romance.
Jack fished her phone out of her pocket and typed hurriedly, letting her robotic voice do the speaking for her.
<<I've always wanted to be happy.>> the clipped, synthetic British woman's voice told the boy, <<I was a romantic when I was younger. When my mutation emerged, though, that put a lot of my dreams on hold. My focus became survival. It was like that for a long time.>>
There were a lot of syllables in that explanation that would be problematic for Jack-- but she had also elected to use the robotic alternative for speech, because she avoided the risk of speaking in a quivering voice. That time of her life was still very raw, for her, and to speak about it meant going back to that frame of mind. She wasn't ready for it.
Jack began typing again.
<<It gets better, though.>> the AI informed Jude, though its general lack of tone made it seem disingenuous.
Posted by "Chief" on May 10, 2017 22:46:52 GMT -6
Jude likes this
Beta Mutant
darkturquoise
lesbian with exceptions
it's complicated
502
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Apr 25, 2024 23:17:11 GMT -6
Sophy
There was an unfamiliar ceramic clink on the counter, and the timid proclamation of, "For you. Hous oo'arming gift."
Jack carefully picked-up the mug, which looked like a toy in her primary hands. She surveyed it, reading the text that proclaimed her "World's Okayest Dad". Jack chuffed, her expression softening. She didn't get a lot of gifts. And this one was damn funny. She was liking this kid more and more.
Mindful of the gift and the kid's antennae, Jack gave him the kid an appreciative (but not too enthusiastic) head-rub. If he had hair, it'd be a hair-ruffle, but he was bald. Ah, to be a prawn.
"I like it," she grunted, "Good sense o' hue-nor. Shank you."
Her tone conveyed how genuine she was being, although her own inexperience with giving thanks or expressing feelings made her gratitude sound a little forced. It really wasn't. Jack shuffled from the kitchen, leaving the boy at the stove with a spatula, and surveying the offered mug. It was nice of him to offer it to her.
Lunch-time. Well, actually, it was mid-afternoon. That warm part of the day where nearly everyone was lethargic and preoccupied with keeping cool, and hardly anyone had the time or patience to eat. Most people prostrated themselves in front of a fan and hoped to cool themselves down.
Jack was on a lunch break-- and, given the time of day and the bareness of the dining room, she had chosen to eat there rather than at some forgotten corner of the Mansion. Her surgical mask had been removed for the meal and set aside, flat against the table where no stray crumbs could fall upon it. She was hunched over the table, which altogether seemed dwarfed by her enormous shoulders. Her massive primary hands clasped a six-inch portion of a footlong, the sandwich looking small in her grasp. No one was thinking of eating that this hour, thus Jack felt safe to eat, now.
Jack was quite the spectacle when she ate, hence why she was so self-conscious about eating around others. She typically preferred some corner of the staff-room, where few might happen upon her. Her first (outer) maxillae would tear into the food, her second maxillae would push it back towards the mandibles, which would masticate whatever she was imbibing in. Sometimes it was sloppy, despite her best efforts, hence why she hunched over the table-- it was better to get a mess on the placemat or plastic bag below you, rather than on your shirt.
The prawn munched quietly to herself, ears trained on the entrance to the dining room.
*coughs* Yes. Darn those kids for, uh, strewing those books about the floor. Absolutely horrible. Booker seems adorable, and I can't wait to throw my characters at him. (#alreadyshiphimwithmyfourth #evenifhedoesn'texistyet)
Congratulations on getting your... third? Sixth? whatever he is... character.
Posted by "Chief" on May 9, 2017 15:11:33 GMT -6
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lesbian with exceptions
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502
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Apr 25, 2024 23:17:11 GMT -6
Sophy
Heyoooo, now that I have your attention-- Jack needs some love! (And tbh, Gina does too, but this is mostly a plea for Jack threads (I want to apply for my power growth, yo.)) If you would like a thread with my prawn-lady, here's your chance. MRO!verse or AV!verse, I'm ambivalent.
MRO!Jack is a security guard at Xavier's and the Manager at Inferno (the club owned by Haven), so there are some thread possibilities there. Behind that gruff exterior is a heart of gold (past many layers of timidness), and honestly I would love to throw her into any shenanigans you have to offer. Wanna flirt with her and make her squirm? Wanna kick some @$$? Need some tough love for your character? I offer Jack up to any and all of those.
AV!Jack is more of a monster than an animal. She'd be good for a horrific game of chase (whether she is intentionally haunting/hunting your character, or not), or perhaps you're looking for some half-bodyguard/half-pet creature to follow you about? OR EVEN BETTER, maybe your SUPER Agent got word from a particularly cagey civilian about Jack's existence, and they're now on the hunt?
I am open to whatever inspiration moves you to. Drop a response, shoot me a PM, I'd love to thread with you. <3
Posted by "Chief" on May 8, 2017 22:02:04 GMT -6
Jude likes this
Beta Mutant
darkturquoise
lesbian with exceptions
it's complicated
502
113
Apr 25, 2024 23:17:11 GMT -6
Sophy
Jack rummaged into the fridge-- she'd already set aside some ground beef for food when she got home. The kid could have it-- it was good, grass-fed stuff, no chemicals. That sort of thing was important when you had a funky way of tasting things.
"Re'nen'der duh sirst tine I had neat as-ter changing," Jack said, tossing the bag of ground beef onto the counter, "It's... it's awe-sun, you'll luz it. Gotta get duh clean stuss, doh. Organic stuss."
>> "Hun'ry. Can I hel'f?"
"Sure," the prawn grunted, fishing-out some leftovers for herself, "Iss you want."
Jack meandered to the stove, fetching a frying-pan from an adjoining cabinet. The frying pan was deposited on the stove, the stove was lit, and the prawn retrieved a spatula as well. This was proferred to the kid.
"Has you cooked any 'e-sore?" the prawn inquired, "Can cook duh neat iss you 'ant."
Jack's mind was humming with the energy of dancing with someone else, and the hum had drowned-out any recollection of the young woman's promise. The prawn allowed herself to breath again, when she reached the side of the floor. From the shadows she could resume her job and watch-over the club's residents-- here, she was comfortable. The sidelines. To her chagrin, Agnes did not (as the prawn had hoped) resume her merriment's solo. She marched right over to Jack with a broad grin.
Jack was beginning to interpret those smiles as devilish.
>> ”I think you forgot something…”
A primary hand rose to her chest pocket, and Jack patted to see if she'd perhaps dropped her cell phone. Honestly, that was the only loose personal belonging she carried while she was working. That and her ID and a debit card, which she could conceal in the case of her phone. Everything else was somehow attached to her.
>> ”Your number, silly. I said I’d get you into one of my shows and I keep my work. Add in your phone number.”
Jack mutely accepted Agnes's phone, leveling a blank stare at it, for a moment. The introvert in her softly encouraged the prawn, "Add a fake number."
She'd overheard patrons talking about it numerous times. Use faux numbers to appease guys who couldn't take no for an answer, let them down and easy and escape with your private life in-tact.
Jack didn't know any faux numbers. And it didn't feel right to give Agnes a fake one, after she'd been so nice. Careful primary hands tapped Jack's number into the appropriate dialogue. In the "Name" dialogue, the prawn typed, "Jack (Chrysalis)". She then complacently passed the phone back to Agnes.
>> "Well memorization is important, I could probably memorize a whole tables order without writing it down. Shows have long rehearsal hours where your busy so shift work is a piece of cake."
The prawn nodded as she listened, resting her head upon her chin. The kid was nervous. everyone was nervous at interviews, though. You had to be a sociopath to not be, honestly. The decision of the person before you could determine whether or not you would get a job. Good. He was connecting what he knew, to what he didn't necessarily. Good, good.
>> "To be honest from the looks of some of the clientele here it wouldn't hurt to have someone who knows how to deal with divas, like that."
The prawn smiled with her eyes, incling her head. She'd worked in the business long enough to have her fair share of said divas. Jack followed his gaze, briefly, before fixing him with a shrewd look.
"How 'ould you deal 'iss sun-one like dat?" Jack inquired, "A dissicult custoner. Let's say you accidentally gaze den duh wrong drink, and dey get nad at you?"
Everyone get's there own room! It'll be cool to have another flying person on the fourth floor. Do you have any preferences for room location? Gina has the one closest to the fire escape, but the other three are still unclaimed. (One's for Darkshift, but she has not claimed it a room yet.)
Jack was so preoccupied with not stepping on the diminutive young woman before her, she hardly had the time to get swept away in the atmosphere of it all. Her throat was clenched anxiously, her feet shuffling to the lull of the music, and her occasionally her feline, lavender eyes would meander to Agnes's face. The look she wore was fond and soft-- and, to be honest, it made Jack wish that Zinnia was there. It had been different when the prawn had danced with Victor-- she'd been drunk, for one thing, and the massive mutant had literally swept the prawn off of her feet.
But now, looking down at into the cool blue eyes of a stranger, Jack felt profoundly guilty. Agnes was smaller than Zinnia, but they were close enough in size for the prawn to draw the comparison. She should be sharing a dance like this with Zinnia. She'd never danced with someone smaller, before. That wasn't something she could get back.
>> ”See? That wasn’t SO bad, was it?”
"It was nice," the prawn agreed quietly, cracking a smile. She placed a heavy primary hand on the young lady's shoulder, giving it a careful squeeze, "I enjoyed it."
That being said, the prawn ambled back to her spot against the wall, and allowed her back to rest against it, heaving a sigh. That was her way of saying "thanks".
Posted by "Chief" on Apr 29, 2017 21:59:28 GMT -6
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Beta Mutant
darkturquoise
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Apr 25, 2024 23:17:11 GMT -6
Sophy
Despite the trickling flow of the remainder of Jack's shift, she endured it through to the end. Since she had her phone on her at all times for its translating function, she recieved the kid's phone call and was able to relay directions to her complex easily enough. Hopefully they were clear enough. Then again, all of the squat, low-rise Harlem complexes probably looked the same to the undiscerning eye, so perhaps not?
Jack made the commute home more hastily than usual, her walk from the train station more clipped than usual. She found Jude on the front porch of the complex, a fixture that would be more ominous to any other passerby.
"Hey kid," she greated, ascending the concrete steps, "'el-cun to ny hun-dle hone."
It was a modest building, in the way of New York buildings. Five stories (not including the basement) and four narrow windows accross. It was a brown stone buliding with off-white accents. Next to it, an empty lot on one side, and a gated alley on the other. There were garbage cans along the front, and bags of rubbish that hadn't quite made it to them. All in all, though, it was a quiet and not-too-terrible street. (There was a church about a five minute walk from there.)
Jack keyed-in her code and led the kid in through the front door.
"Sird sloor," she announced, walking the familiar route towards the stairwell.
She didn't mean to seem terse, but she was rather hungry. She assumed the kid was too. They ascended the stairs and, soon enough, they were at the door to her apartment. The prawn rummaged her keys out of her bag and unlocked the door. Once the door was unlocked, she pushed it open, and gestured for the kid to go-in ahead of her.
The front door opened into a narrow hall. To the left, the bedroom and bathroom. To the right, a kitchenette and great room. Jack hadn't been lying when she said that there wasn't much worth stealing. In he living room, there was a couch, a bookshelf, and a small round table with four chairs. A modest television sat opposite of the couch. Closer to the kitchenette, some woodworking materials. There was a pile of junkmail on the counter. The fridge was opposite of the kitchenette, tucked in teh corner of the great room. There was enough room for a small stove/oven, a sink, a scant amount of cabinets and counter-space. All-in-all, a nice space, but it was very meagerly decorated.
"Toilet to duh right, ny roon is at duh sar end uzz duh hall," Jack said simply, padding towards the fridge, "Couch is all yours. Are ya hungry?"
Booker seems adorable, and I can't wait to throw my characters at him. (#alreadyshiphimwithmyfourth #evenifhedoesn'texistyet) 
It'll be cool to have another flying person on the fourth floor. Do you have any preferences for room location? Gina has the one closest to the fire escape, but the other three are still unclaimed. (One's for Darkshift, but she has not claimed it a room yet.)