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.
Adder huffed. Not every choice was the same for everyone, but it wasn't like this was a question of being able to eat something out of dumpster without getting sick, or swimming across a very unpleasantly wide and fast river to escape a bad situation. It didn't even really matter, so why would it matter who made the decision?
Just like it didn't matter if he called the stupid tan pants yellow. It was close enough, just not vibrant. Why was Cafas being so picky? Unless tan actually looked different from yellow to him too. That might explain it. But it still didn't matter. It was just colours.
Stripes? The subject change, and reminder of the sweater (not that he'd forgotten, it was way too fuzzy and snuggly to forget, but he hadn't been actively thinking about it at just that exact moment because he'd been busy thinking about how stupid colours were and how little they mattered at all) cut off the beginning of an annoyed huff and had him actually looking at the cuffs. There were lines, yes. Some of them were red? Was that supposed to be good or bad? Or was it just something that was?
There were lots of things that just were, and weren't good or bad in and of themselves. Or they were both. But lots were neither until something tried to use them for one or the other, or both, or some weird mix.
"Waitwaitwait, what?" What was Cafas on about now. Wardrobe? What was that supposed to mean? And - phone yes, he had agreed to that, but he had not agreed to shoes and he would not. Shoes were horrible and disgusting and gross and crampy and stifling and weird and ruined his balance and it wasn't even like it was cold so he didn't even need the warmth so no. No shoes.
Except Cafas had just gone on his way, and left Adder to scramble after him, trying to keep from being buried.
When Cafas so much as looked at the shoes, though, Adder stopped in his tracks. "I'm not wearing those," he said flatly. Very flatly. Flatter than roadkill, because that was mostly just limp and messy. Flatter than paper. Flatter than paper that had been left on the road in the rain for hours and then driven on over and over and over, and then rained on some more.
His tone wasn't even childishly flat. It was don't-%^&*ing-try-it flat.
Adder watched, his yellow eyes shifting only tiny fractions of degrees as salt softy looked at the bacon burger, at her juice. He waited while she swallowed, and hesitated before picking up the burger. He tried not to think too much about the hesitation; he paused before touching new things, especially things he wasn't sure were food. He'd just... not think about how salt softy could possibly not be sure that this was food.
It was bacon wrapped around meat and it wasn't even slimy.
And then she was eating it all and Adder had to dig his fingers into his knees to keep from covering himself in fur and breaking his tail against the chair, because that was probably what would happen and he didn't want that to happen, or to startle salt softy, both because he didn't want to startle her and because being startled while eating could lead to choking and that was very much not good at all.
It was very, very unpleasant. And stressful.
But there was an option that was not stressful. In fact, it was quite delicious. It was 'eat another burger and stop thinking so much.' He was quite proud of the idea, really.
...
Now there was bacon stuck between his teeth. No fair! Adder swallowed the rest of the burger and tried to get the torn-short edge of a fingernail around the very offensive chunk. He could feel it with his tongue but not move it, but with his fingers he couldn't feel it. Not fair at all!
Wait wait wait salt softy was talking to him. She was asking him something.
...
What kind of question was that?
"It has food." Which was good, very good. "But also noisy little kids who try to pull on my ears. And my tail. It's not a toy!" He was very annoyed when that happened. Very annoyed! It was downright infuriating. HARRUMPH.
...
One more burger. And he'd eat it slowly, and take the bacon off strip by strip to eat it. Except there was still that piece stuck between his teeth. There was just no winning.
"And there are weird adults here. Like drunk chihuahua." And not-cop-face-shifter. Also very weird.
So much for entertaining. She was just waving and didn't look at all surprised. Harrumph. He should just leave, then. Serve her right for interrupting his run. Somehow. He wasn't especially concerned by the logic. He was more concerned that not-cop-face-shifter wanted to chat.
And maybe also that he hadn't immediately bolted, but was still within other-people-chat-range. That was not a place he usually occupied. It wasn't a place he wanted to occupy.
But it was apparently the space he was occupying? Somehow, because he hadn't bothered to leave yet.
Well, it wasn't as if not-cop-face-shifter had been put off by him leaving before, so it wasn't as if doing it again would change anything. Harrumph.
"I've been me," he answered. Was that 'chatting?' Was he being too much of a rich person now? Hah! And ew. Seriously, he didn't want to be one of those frilly floucey people who had no idea what the rest of the world was like. Even if maybe he didn't really know what the rest of the world was like... but he still wasn't like those people and didn't want to be!
"Why do you do this?" One of his ears flicked towards the targets but his eyes rested on the bow. He hadn't seen one before, but he could see how it could flex and snap back into shape, and if something was leaning against it while it snapped back, then that would push it in that direction, but was it really easier than just throwing it? Not that throwing straight things without spinning them was easy, especially small straight things. Hm.
This was definitely getting more interesting, and a lot more complex than just turning bad food into good food, however useful that would be. Which was a lot. Turning bad food into good food was incredibly useful and he might even be open to trading his mutation for it. As long as it didn't come with drawbacks that countered the usefulness. His mutation didn't really have any drawbacks that he could think of. Except maybe things being too loud and distracting. And not being able to hold a shift if there was too much going on around him. And people being stupid and not being able to tell the difference between a shifted wolf and a predator to run away from while screaming for police or animal control or God.
Although... people screaming for God to help them just because they'd crossed paths with him in the dark was usually pretty funny. So there was that.
"So you could use them to go and get things for you," he mused aloud, trying to shift himself back to the present and away from general considerations. "Or do they have to stay where you can see them or something?" He'd met mutants who manipulated things that weren't part of them, things that couldn't be manipulated in that way by other people, but a lot of them were very range-limited. Corners were great when being chased by people like that. Also when being chased by people with guns. Corners were also very useful against guns.
Good cold? "It's bacon wrapped around a burger patty," he said, a little bit slowly. "Of course it's good?" Wait wait wait wait wait if he told her it was good and she believed him, she would want to take some! This was his! It wasn't like a bunch of popcorn and candy that she made and then shared with him, this was his! All his!
He pulled the container a tiny bit closer and stuffed another burger into his mouth.
But it was salt softy and there was more than he planned to eat right now. But it was his. All his. His and no one else's.
Just his.
Maybe just a piece. If she asked - no no no if he gave it to her when she asked, it would be because she asked and he would be giving in to her and that was not good. He should not let her ask, because if she asked then he would have to say no. But the only way to not let her ask was...
To give it to her before she could ask.
Which circled back to giving her his food. His food.
But it would keep her from asking and therefore from him having to tell salt softy no when she wasn't upset at seeing him not-furry.
Oh FINE. He summoned up all of his stray calm casualness and put a bacony package of delight, one of HIS bacony packages of delight, on the container's lid and pushed it across the table.
She'd better like it, after all this. Harrumph. Since it was his food he was giving her.
Adder let the culty gibberish float past his head rather than listen to any of it. He didn't know what they meant and he didn't especially care, as long as this didn't turn into a trap-people-and-murder-them thing, because then he'd have to do stupid drastic tiring stuff. And also get salt softy out.
That would be very tiring. How about it not be necessary.
Maybe he'd just sort of half-snooze while the people chattered on about their weird culty religious stuff. Blah blah blah Lord, blah blah blah family. He stifled a yawn and glanced around the room again. Nothing in particular going on, no people raising personal danger flags, just crazy culty flags, just a picture of someone who looked like Cafas up on the big screen -
...
Adder's instinctive attempt to scent for the metal manipulating x-man probably came across more as a different sort of subtle alarm, but he was definitely paying attention again. It was just pictures of Cafas, and of sharp-air lady who spent lots of time with Cafas, and some kid.
Lady who spent lots of time with Cafas? Pictures of them together with a kid? Cafas-family, then. And these people had pictures of them. And he recognized the angles of some of the shots. They were taken on mansion property, and from bush-shrouded areas he himself frequented.
Had he been near these people before, and just thought they were residents? Were they residents? That would make it easier to bring Cafas to them. He did not think that Cafas would like people taking pictures of his family and talking about them in secret groups.
For the record, tvs were weird things and he much preferred watching stuff with salt softy on her little screen, away from all the people.
Adder wasn't completely out of touch with his surroundings, though, and it would take more than thirteen-odd solitary, tech-empty years to keep him from noticing that something very, very big was going on. Plus the city was basically literally on fire half the time, it seemed, and Cafas kept apologizing for not being able to make their training sessions -
So when he passed the mansion living room and noticed the very, very strange energy of the crowd inside (the crowd itself wasn't too weird; this place was filled with weird kids who did weird things like bunch up for no real reason) he slowed down so he could still hear what was going on as he continued down the hall, away from all the people.
Go somewhere else?
Nope. Not going to happen, unless somewhere else included some other part of the school. He had more important and interesting things to do, like stretch out in the sun and nap.
Next to her target? Adder glanced around. So the ringed thing with a stick in it. A stick that looked to be very recently very stuck in it.
Yeaahhhh he'd rather not take the target's place, please and thanks. Once again, though, not-cop-face-shifter didn't seem to recognize him. That was kinda great, kinda.... something else. Not sticking around in other people's heads was kind of his usual plan. It was what he aimed for. It was safe and kept them from going after him, since that required that they remember him.
This time, though, he kind of wanted to see not-cop-face-shifter's expression when she realized that it was him-again. It seemed entertaining. Plus... mm, yeah. He could cross the distance she was shooting very quickly, and a wolf running away left a pretty small target. He'd had people shoot guns at him before, and they didn't leave their bullets sticking mostly out of the target. They went all the way in if not all the way through.
He approached at an angle, curving around the side just in case she did change her mind and decide to shoot at him: it would be easier to change direction and get out of there. If all went well, though, he'd at least get close enough for her to probably hear him if he said anything. If he judged other-people-hearing-distance right. It seemed like such a short range.
Adder's ears perked up at salt softy's giggle. She wasn't scared of him? Really? He very nearly wagged his tail, but the flickery haze of white vanished as quickly as it had tried to crawl across his shoulders. She wasn't scared, she wanted him to go over to her!
She was also the only one around to see if he maybe bounced over after tossing his head back to shred the burger in his mouth and swallow it, and also grabbing the container because bacon wrapped burgers.
He swung himself into an empty chair, feet tucked beneath him and lower back twitching as he fought with the completely and totally irrational urge to wave a currently nonexistent tail around even if it would just hit stuff and get bruised.
The bear went sideways, and Adder took full advantage of the moment. He clamped his ears down against the noise, the creaking and cracking and crumbling barely cushioned by the bear's thick fur, and threw himself into the temporary gap between white and green strangers.
From there, he had sight of the door and booked it. Tyson would be more fine than Adder would be if he stuck around.
Thought confirmed, Adder set aside the whole colourblindness thing in his head. If he'd been mentally organized enough to have mental boxes, it would have gone in the 'Complete' box. As it was, it went in the mental equivalent of someone else's pile of dirty laundry.
The completeness opened up some space for him to be affronted at the implication that he wasn't expected to pick up on cues from people, and his ears went right back to irritation. "Reading people is important," he muttered. So yes, he had noticed that Cafas wasn't thrilled. People who weren't happy were more likely to do dangerous stuff and less likely to be helpful.
But getting all grouchy himself wasn't going to help with the whole new-clothes-acquisition thing he was doing right now, and if he didn't come out of this with the new clothes then he would have been near people and stared at and suspected for nothing. That was not a good use of resources. He wouldn't be the reason for losing out on this.
Adder pointed to each of the pants in turn. He might as well just say what colour each of them were, and if Cafas saw them differently then he could say so. It wasn't like any of them didn't exist or something. "Brown, yellow, yellow, brownish yellow, blue, black, yellowish brown, greyish, bunch of brown, more black, more blue."
While he spoke, Adder kept an eye on Cafas to see how he reacted to each label.
Not see as many colours as other people? "So like how I can smell things that other people don't," Adder said, more statement of understanding that confirmation. If it was like that, then he probably couldn't learn to do it and so avoid the inability he hadn't really noticed previously. Eh, he'd try anyway. It wasn't like the pants looked like they were the same pants, after all, just like... pants of... the same colour.
Room for improvement.
For the meantime, though, pants. "If you don't like the colour, you can pick that part," Adder said, and held the apparently-red ones out.
They ended up hanging there kind of like his face. Naked while... washing clothes? Didn't everyone clean their clothes while still wearing them most of the time?
Good job, Adder. Good job. Confusion all around! Like splattering mud on people in the rain. Totally not helpful and also really not something you could just wave off, because the mud would still be there. And the wet.
Some mud smelled really bad, but some was also kind of okay.
This was not the time to be thinking about mud. This was the time to be trying to figure out WHAT WAS GOING ON.
Oorrrr in the time span Cafas used to look hopelessly confused, Adder could think about mud. Yeah. Because that was productive and efficient. But it was what happened, and, like the mud, was going to stay happened.
"Colourblind?" That was not a specific word he knew, but he recognized the parts. Colour and blind. He could see colour!
Well, what he saw agreed with what other people seemed to see for blue and yellow and grey. And he knew other colours existed. But colour didn't mean as much as other stuff, like smell. He could identify things better by scent than by sight anyway, so what did it matter?
Ha hah, silly city dog was getting mad. Adder kept most of the jeering inside his head, just letting teasing wisps out through the corners of his mouth and the implication of angle in his eyebrows. This was fun. And he was getting paid for it.
Miika-kitten was having trouble with something or other, but he was probably just feeling intimidated by the big bag fang-dance. He was a silly little kitten kid who didn't grasp the things that drew bad attention, like a fuzzball kitten walking on the skinny edge of a fence or picking a fight with a wolf.
That was also fun. And weird. Teensy balls of fluff all poofed up and screeching at him, when their heads were like the size of his nose and nothing else. Oh oh! There was that one super runty one that had tried to swat him, but its claws were too runty to even get through the fur on his muzzle.
Kittens were so silly. And stupid.
And apparently immune to getting eaten, because like the super runty kitten of memory, Miika-kitten was able to stalk onwards without getting ripped to shreds. Well, Miika-kitten didn't stalk nearly as much as super-runt had. Definitely no swagger. But they went inside, and Adder was still totally smirking at city-dog.
Adder reconsidered biology-earthy-kid. He could make animals. It seemed strange, even for a mutant, but Adder had just seen it happen. There was a breathing frog right there.
He was less impressed by the lack of nommability. That made the made-animals less useful, but not useless. This place did have lots of food, he supposed, so there could be other uses for things. Maybe the animals could be really good at going and getting food without being harassed. Or if they were harassed, they still weren't him.
Adder's ears flicked as an idea rolled around the side of his mind. "Do you feel everything they feel? What happens to them, what's around them? What they can smell and hear-" hey, they were super important to him even if most people didn't seem to smell anything ever "- what they see? Can you be somewhere without being there yourself?" Pain was survivable, but some situations weren't. And sometimes it was hard to tell how survivable a situation was until you were right smack in the middle of it.
