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 waved for Skye to follow, only offering a short, “s’all good.”
The girl snaked an arm around Jack in a hug, which Jack reciprocated with a steadying one-armed hug of her own. She was so tiny. Very sweet. It wasn't her business how Skye lived, but she found it curious that she lived on the couch at her uncle's house. An absent-minded hand patted Skye's head.
“How old are you, anyways,” the prawn clicked, “Your uncle isn't gonna s’reak iss you aren't home in the nor-ning, is he?”
The question had been nagging Jack all night, for a handful of reasons. If Skye had a home, though, and if she was young enough to recognize curfew… well, let's just say that Jack didn't want to get her in hot water...
The prawn diligently input the address into her phone, waiting for the GPS program to process her request. Skye edged closer, and Jack noticed. Boy, did she notice. Her stomach checked. Her hand twitched. But she kept her hands to herself. She was anxious, the last thing she needed was some mutant behemoth manhandling her.
>> “What does yours say… according to mine… I went way out of the way…”
Jack's phone provided directions, and… sh**, that was far… really far.
“A little walk, yeah,” Jack said placatingly. It was obvious that Jack had confirmed it'd be a long walk. At Skye’s pace, they might get to her house at five. If they speed-walked, that is. Jack surveyed her newfound friend, chirring softly.
“I-iss you want, n-ny 'lace is 'retty close,” Jack murmured, “Got a really nice couch. Can hang tight until nor-ning.”
Jack was constantly housing couch-surfers, so it wouldn't trouble her too greatly to surrender her couch.
Not only did the dog respond to her summoning, but he was cheerful about it. Jumped up and put his front paws against the prawn’s abdomen. Jack gave the dog conciliatory pets, leveling another stare at the animal control guys.
“You can cun wiss nee to ny house iss you wanna see his tags,” the prawn grunted, her eyes thinned in a challenge, “Lizz o’er near duh Central 'ark Zoo, doh.” Which was a bit of a walk. If two New Yorkers wanted to waste a half-hour of their time calling a mutant's bluff, by all means…
“No, sir, we'll take your word for it. Next time, keep a better track of your dog.”
“Sure.”
Animal control left. Jack watched them go, all the while idly petting the dog. Once they slipped out of view, the prawn cast a glance at the boxer.
“Where did you really cun s’run,” the prawn murmured, “Sure are a whole lotta trou’le sore your actual san’ily.”
New York was huge, though. His family could be anywhere. The best course of action would be to take the dog with, and try to find his family later. “Dang cute, doh. You hungry?”
“It's hard,” the prawn clicked sympathetically, in response to Skye’s comment regarding finding a place of her own, “Duh city is ex'ensi’.”
The reality of it was that Jack could only afford hole-in-the-wall places, before moving into Devon's complex… And she could only really afford living in Devon's complex because he'd cut her a deal…
Jack followed slightly behind Skye (she didn't know the way to her place, after all). Try as she might to keep her gaze turned outward, however, the prawn could feel her attention cleaving to the girl, and gaze venturing southernly. Skye's light show was even more entrancing in the dark. An anxious sound from Skye broke the prawn's reverie.
>> "Crap.....this doesn't look familiar… I...I don't know where.... I'm pretty sure I've gotten us lost. I'm sorry...I was sure I knew the way..."
Jack trilled, holding her hands up in a placating gesture. The lights had drifted towards a dazzling brilliance, which the prawn assumed meant that she was getting worked-up.
“Easy, easy,” the prawn murmured, digging into her pocket. She pulled out her smartphone, “You know duh address? Could look it u’...”
A bark of laughter escaped the prawn. "Dashing." She hardly thought of herself as dashing. The thought of shirtlessly managing a club was humorous to her, as well. What sort of warped club would have a shirtless manager? Maybe a mutant strip club. Was there even such a thing? Was there a clientele for that? What would they do about Adapteds?
These thoughts nagged at the prawn as she retreated into the changing stall, slithering out of the pants-to-be-mended and back into her cargo shorts. She then pulled the shirt off over her head, depositing it onto the chair. Without donning the dress shirt, she exited back out-- hanger and dress-shirt in tow. Javier had seen it all before, anyways-- no sense in being modest. Jack ambled back towards Javi, depositing the pinned pants, and the shirt. They'd have to take a seam ripper to the sleeves before it could even be tried-on and fitted.
"I'd has to turn into a nudist, iss I didn't has you," the prawn remarked, a humored glimmer in her lavender gaze.
"Give it time," was the prawn's equally-dry response. Not that she wished ill upon her friend, it was just that trouble had a way of finding people with an X Gene, regardless of the precautions one took avoid said trouble. Skye finished her purchase, and the two stepped outside, into the brisk night air. Skye nestled close, and Jack could feel her face climb in temperature. For someone she'd just met, Skye was certainly in the prawn's personal space. Not that she minded. Not even in the least bit.
Jack kept a steady stride, but with someone whose stride was much shorter, she found that she was slowing down more, so as not to outrun her friend.
>> "I think my uncle lives like... ten blocks from here."
"Dat's not too terri'le," the prawn commented. Really, ten blocks wasn't a bad walk at all, "And you're close to an awe-sun 'ookstore."
Jack kept her hands in her pockets, unsure of what the appropriate way to walk with Skye would be. Of course, her hormones were telling her it'd be fine to loop an arm around her, hold her close, and--
The prawn cleared her throat. Enough of that.
"I lizz o'er near Central 'ark, o'er near duh zoo," the prawn explained. It was a ways further than the "ten blocks" Skye had mentioned, but she figured since they were swapping living situations... she might as well share, too...
Jack finished purchasing her books, then stepped aside, clenching the plastic bag in one hand. Skye agreed to some company and the prawn touched a timid hand to her chest in a gracious gesture.
"I'n honestly sur'rised dat you hasn't encountered trou'le yet," she admonished, "You'd sink solks would a'oid an o'ious nyutant, 'ut dat's gi'ing den too nuch credit. Solks are stu'id. Dey jus wanna gizz you nore trou'le once dey realize you're a nyutant..."
The prawn fell quiet when the bookseller started to help Skyler. She'd be happy to tag along, at least until she saw the girl home. Her aunt and uncle would probably thank her for it, if they even knew their niece was out at this hour at all... Jack took the chance to drink in the girl's appearance, the color-changing hair particularly... what did pink mean, she wondered? She wasn't being hostile, so it couldn't have been bad...
It was a step in the right direction, venturing out to one of New York's multiple teahouses for a mid-morning bit of tea. Today's teahouse was the "Mad Hatter's Tea Cup", a quaint, Alice in Wonderland-themed teahouse with stylings nostalgic of the Victorian era. The pastries were absurd colors, the teacups didn't match, but it was all part of the absurd gimmick they had running. And when the surroundings were as garishly-colored as they were, it detracted from the equally garish prawn, who was presently nursing a cup of tea, had nibbled at a scone, and had buried their nose in some paperback mystery-novel focused on the harebrained adventures of a bounty hunter.
Most people were busy with their own books, newspapers, or soft-spoken conversations to pay anyone else, Jack included, any mind. The prawn sighed, turned the page of her novel, and set it down with the pages against the table and spine skyward. What a lovely way to spend a Tuesday.
Delicately, the prawn pinched the handle of the teacup between thumb and forefinger, and raised the beverage to her mouthparts, managing a dainty sip. Once the cup was deposited, the book was once again retrieved, and sh continued reading.
Jack accepted the returned carving, sliding it into her pocket. She inclined her head.
"In duh way uzz nyutations, it's not an ugly nyutation to has," the prawn offerred in an attempt to console the girl. A light show, and hair that couldn't decide what color to be. Not too shabby, "I nean, iss it's any consolation, I right dere wiss you. Light up suntines, long ny s'ines." Jack trailed a finger along the hard ridges of her forearm, "No change colors, doh. Always 'lue. Light 'lue."
The prawn moved towards the front register, nodding to the attendant. It was one of the ones that had a hard time understanding her, so she'd keep small talk to a minimum.
"You... lizz sar s'run here?" the prawn asked, "No uh-sense, but like... iss not sa'se sore a young lady to 'e walkin' duh streets alone at diss hour... not really sa'se sore nee, ei-derr."
The prawn surveyed her newfound friend. She'd hate to see something happen to them, or hear about them in the news.
"No one screws around wiss ya when you're se'en seet tall..."
Animal control-- rather than owners, two men in uniforms descended upon the dog, pinning it with a collar at the end of pole, muzzling it, restraining it. Jack watched impassively, for a moment, then her mouth began to move, seemingly on its own volition.
"Duh hell do you sink you're doing?" was her flat demand.
One of the animal control people regarded her with a quiet and careful stare.
"'s ny dog."
"Doesn't have a collar, much less tags," the animal control person smarted-off to her, "If you have a dog, it needs to be licensed."
"Got stuck," the prawn said coolly, " 'e got outta duh yard. Wriggled outta duh collar under duh sense. I accidentally lest it at duh house."
"Uh-huh," the animal control officer said skeptically, "How were you gonna take it home?"
"Easy. Was gonna tuck it under ny arm."
Another measured stare. Jack totally could tuck the dog under her arm.
"Look, I'll show you he's nine, okay. Here."
She hoped to god this dog was trained. Jack walked a few strides away.
"Let 'm go, I'll show ya."
The collar was removed.
"'ey boy," Jack called, "Here, Edgar."
He looked like an Edgar. She breathed a low whistle.
Jack huffed, feigning offense at the stipulation that Javier added onto his acceptance of the invitation.
"Don't need a wing-nan is I'n not on duh lookout like dat," Jack teased, "Nay'e we'll see sun-one sore you, doh."
Jack knew full well that Javier wouldn't want to pick anyone up like that, though. it was mostly just to poke holes in his own argument. He finished pinning the slacks, and Jack turned, surveying the beginnings of his handiwork. The pants hung well off of her jutting hips, and covered down to the joint that comprised her "ankle".
"Shirt now?" she offered, spinning slowly and contemplatively so that Javier could survey his handiwork and make any of the necessary last-minute fixes. She knew full well that the shirt would be more challenging-- they'd have to take a seam-ripper to the sleeves, first of all, and free them from the shirt itself. Then Javier would have to add the modifications that helped get the sleeves past Jack's massive lower arms (metal snaps along the sleeve, invisible to the outward observer).
Jack held up her hands at the "Jacquelyn", and pushed them together.
"Jack," she said gently, "Jacquelyn nakes nee seel like I'n in trou'le. And don' nention it."
>> "So aside from the obvious, do you like to read or do anything else?"
The prawn glanced away bashfully, a sort of wordless "not really" rippling through her demeanor. She tucked her thumb into the pocket of her pants, and bumped up against a half-finished whittled carving. The prawn brightened, and fish the half-complete project out. It seemed to be a sleeping fox, curled into a ball as if to sleep. Though the tail, its hindquarter, and its head were defined, the details of the face hadn't been added.
Jack held it out to her newfound friend, letting the small carving topple into her palm. It was about the size of a silver dollar, ears included. It was hard to imagine someone of Jack's stature, with hands that could envelop a grown man's head, carving something that small.
Jack waited as the young woman appraised her handiwork, then touched a hand to her own chest.
The prawn smiled, ducking back into the alcove to peruse for more good choices. Her head was reeling. It was definitely the pre-shed hormones, that much was certain, but Jack was enjoying the emotional high they were giving her. Better than the anxious mess she'd been in the months prior.
Jack emerged once again, offering another Hannigan to Skyler.
"Can't go wrong wiss Hannigan," the prawn said, "Dis duh sirst 'ook in her Elena Blaine series... and Elena slee's wiss all kind uzz characters."
The prawn, still all smiles, straightened herself. Maybe she'd slip away, that way if Sky was anxious about holding onto any recommendations, she'd have the chance to reshelve them.
"I sink... I'll call it good, wiss deez two," Jack announced... it'd make a comfortable "out" if Skye didn't really want to keep talking.
Jack's own heart stuttered in her chest. Not to typecast, but... anyone who was keen on supernatural stuff, typically was also fairly mutant-friendly. The prawn nodded a silent acknowledgement, ducking through the doorway. Skyler's voice followed her through the curtain, requesting only one or two more, tops, due to her living situation. Jack clicked to herself, and gave a brief, "'kay."
That meant she had to make these one or two really, truly count. She retrieved a particularly well-written vampire romance, by a Ms. Robin McIntyre, and another favorite of Jack's which tended towards more of an urban fantasy, by a Ms. Hazel White. After a few moments of deliberating, and peering down at the covers of the books, Jack re-emerged.
"Dis un-" she said, handing the vampire romance to the young woman, "Is all a'out a lady and 'an'ire-" she curled her primary index fingers and held them up to her surgical mask, pantomiming fangs, "Not as hea'y on duh risque scenes, 'ut 'ery well-written. Dis-" she handed over the urban fantasy, "-is de exact o'osite. Ur'an santasy, a lady and a troll... who, contrary to 'eing a troll, is still 'ery hot. Still well-written, 'ut gratuitous... you know. And it's well written les'ians, too, which can 'e hard to ss-ind."
That was said as an afterthought. But it was true-- though well-written LGBT+ was getting easier to find, you still had to comb through the crap, especially in used bookstores. Ms. White had, however, done a fairly good job for herself. The prawn paused. Maybe Skyler would want another book with a male-and-female love interest? Having your uncle find adult books was bad enough, but having them find LGBT+ adult books would be something else entirely.
"Can see is dey has sun udder good straight ones," the prawn said quickly, brushing the curtain aside as an offer to continue looking.
"Sky-lar," the prawn clicked in reply, echoing to herself. It was, thankfully, an easy name to say. She'd offer a "nice to meet you", but the girl had ducked back into her alcove. Jack, similarly, plunged into the first few pages of her book. The girl re-emerged with three books, and mirrored Jack's body language, leaning against the wall. The prawn appraised her once again. She spotted the familiar spine of a Hannigan book, one that Jack already had. The girl began reading it, and apparently found one of the many explicit pages within. Jack smiled to herself.
>> "I may end up a regular. I've always been a sucker for literature, and from what I can tell, you have good taste."
"Dey don't al'ays has Hannigan here," Jack clarified, "Dis is a s'ecial case. I can s'eak sore dat one, doh. Dat's a good one. 'ery raunchy." She was grateful to be somewhere well-lit because, with the flush that ran through her, the bioluminescent pores flickered to life again. In the bright, main area on the second floor, it might look like she had glitter on her cheeks, rather than glowing. She closed the book, and tucked it under her arm. Two, new-to-her books would be plenty to tide her over during the shed. She could bide her time with old favorites and the internet in other areas.
"Could reco'end sun uzzers to you," the prawn offered, recalling that she'd seen some other familiar favorites on the shelf, "Are you into duh su'ernatural stu-ss?"
