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.
Tyson followed Elliott, making sure to keep his hood tight after they had left the safety of costume induced suspension of disbelief. He wasn't sure how far that effect would extend, but he didn't want to take chances. The scents of the concert started to fade as they got further away, a good breeze was able to push the scent away, but brought with it the scents from there destination. He could smell the coffee from here, there was no mistaking that odor, but with it he could begin to detect a wide array of other scents. He sniffed a little, seeing if he could distinguish what he was smelling. Danica had suggested figuring out his nose and getting used to the impact it had on him.
Besides the obvious coffee, what else? Hmmmm expresso, kinda expected from a cafe. Cinnamon, caramel, hazelnut, cocoa, common flavorings. Cloves, nutmeg, ginger... Butterscotch... Tea... Citrus, definitely orange and lemon... Raspberry.... Honey... Cream... Something baked... Muffins? And something else, smells like... Cookies... And that was only the beginning, how far were they from this place? It was strange he felt it was right next to him but he couldn't actually see the shop. He was surprised when it took a couple of blocks to reach the place. He supposed being down wind made it easy for him to pick up the scent.
He looked at the decor and decorations as they walked in, a bit curious to what a 'mutant friendly cafe looked like. It looked ordinary, well, besides those running the place. He was quick to pick up on the moving tattoo, small moving animals drew his attention easily. He was just glad that he hadn't felt the urge to pounce on the woman. Probably due to the inky look of it and lack of cat scent. The purple man didn't surprise him by now, after a walking prawn, grasshopper man, and his own reflection, different color skin was take by comparison. At Elliot's urging to try and stump Charise he took another sniff. From far away he had been able to scent a good deal, inside the shop, it was like an ingredient list being shoved in his face. Of course the key here was to detect what wasn't there. He needed to separate the smells up, easier said then done, but it was easier then trying to sort out a crowd. Individuals carried a multitude of scents, not just singular ones, and ones he had never encountered as a human, food he at least had experience with.
Of course he also needed something that would also be an actual drink, he could probably say human flesh, but that would be in bad taste, and probably cheating. So he smelt what was there and tried visualizing the flavor combinations. It wasn't so hard, his nose was so strong he could almost taste it anyway. Then he thought of things he had smelt before that didn't seem to be present among the odors. And he had something. "Hrrrrrr cuuucumberrrrr, meeloon, rrrr and alooooe," he said, he could smell cucumbers, but melon and aloe seemed absent from among the scents. Thanks to Xavia, he had tasted raw aloe before, and he remembered the taste of fresh melon as a human. With those scents and flavored in mind, he could picture a refreshing drink that would be cool, sweet, with a soft pulpy texture that soothed. Of course, even if she could make it he wouldn't be able to drink it, not without making a mess, he was just rising to Elliott's challenge.
I don't think people understand how stressful it is to explain what's going through your head when you don't even understand it yourself. Wolf
As the door closed, Tyson finally let himself go to pieces, letting his breath become labored and filled with painful whines. He couldn't cry, at least not like a human, but his body was capable of expressing it's pain in other forms. He could hear people outside his door, smell the students who were still outside talking about what they thought had happened. Right now he didn't care, the voices blurred together. He just whined and sobbed on the floor, headless of the glass shards.
He would remain there for some time, his mood shifting between the overwhelming sense of loss and anger. Overtime he lost consciousness, only to wake again in a new fit of sobs and whines. He continued flitting between for hours, unmoving from his spot. Eventually though he pulled himself up, brushing the broken glass from his skin. By now it was late night, the students had long since lost interest in guessing what was going on in there. Tyson didn't bother going for the light. He didn't need it. Instead he went to his closet, pulled out his bag, containing the few possessions he had. He opened it and searched for the small album, pulling it out and opening it. He looked at the pictures of him and his mom, a small scarp book of memories. He took out the first picture, a younger human version of himself smiling back. He then tore it in half, discarding it to the floor, before reaching for the next and following suit. Soon the album was empty, a pile of scraps on the floor all that was left of his human life.
I don't think people understand how stressful it is to explain what's going through your head when you don't even understand it yourself. Wolf
Tyson did his best to keep a lid on things, as much as he hated to admit it, Danica was right about one thing, this was driving him nuts. He had destroyed his room, he'd attacked people, he'd felt like he was losing himself to this, coming closer and closer to being the animal he was trying to avoid becoming. In that respect, he did have to come to some way of dealing with this. He didn't know what though. Saying to think outside the box was one thing, but coming up with an actual working solution was another entirely. From what she had said, he needed someway to let his instincts out, but how could he do that without doing the things that disgusted him? He didn't know enough about what his body wanted outside of eating raw meat and getting worked up over everything around him.
"Hrrrr.... todaaay... hr," he pondered aloud, trying to take in what Danica said. what could he do today? Right now he had been venting anger, then talking, then been angry again. How could he deal with that today? Honestly he was drawing blanks, outside of destroying stuff to burn out his anger, what else could he do? Even that seemed like it only worked for a short while before he was angry again. Then it occurred to him to see how other dealt with that, maybe it would give him a starting point. "hrrr whaaaat do yooou dooo when rrrr yooou get annngrrrrrrry?" he asked, hoping it was something that somehow translated into something he could take advantage of himself.
I don't think people understand how stressful it is to explain what's going through your head when you don't even understand it yourself. Wolf
Tyson curled up into a ball, not bothering to even roll off the glass, breaking into a consistent sob. He didn't know what he was supposed to do now. He was still angry, but overwhelmed at the same time, he just wanted to be alone right now, he didn't want Cafas here, he didn't want to be watched as his life crumbled before him "hr p-pleeeese, juuust gooo hrrr," he uttered weakly, his voice still trembling within the growls and slurs. He half half his face to be wet with tears, however, as he felt his face, it was dry. He couldn't even cry. Just another thing to show how inhuman he had become. He didn't want to move to another room, he would likely destroy it. He didn't want to be around people right now, he didn't want comfort or pity, he wanted to morn in peace. Despite having calmed down somewhat, he was not better, he would never be better.
Cafas remark when unheaded, Tyson just laid there, it was clear he was in no shape or mood to entertain Cafas apparent nonchalant reaction to his breakdown. The room was in shambles, but Tyson thought it fitting at the moment. It looked like a violent creature lived there, a monster, it matched what was inside him now. He was fine staying there, there was no point in going to another room, not when he couldn't stand the mocking reflection in the mirror, or the illusion of normality which was just lying to himself. Things would never be normal for him again, he couldn't stand to look at it right now.
I don't think people understand how stressful it is to explain what's going through your head when you don't even understand it yourself. Wolf
It seemed like Adder really liked to circle things. He was tempted to ask if he thought he was part vulture as well, but thought better of it. Probably more of a predator thing anyway. Having answered several questions and having asked a few in turn, he finally started questioning why exactly Adder was here. He hadn't really asked at all, he had been to preoccupied with his slip up to even think about it. Before he could ask though, Adder shot out another question.
"You said why you came here. What keeps you here?"
The first fought that came to mind was of course 'cure', but something in the way that Adder asked seemed to suggest he was asking something else. Maybe it was the body language he gave off, or the tone he said it in, it seemed like a much deeper question then that. Tyson had to question why exactly he was here. Yes he wanted a cure, but technically he didn't need to be at the institute to eventually get that. If he were living in the city he could just as easily retrieve the cure as he could living in the mansion. Why did he stay here as opposed to someplace else? He thought back to his first romp through the city, and what had happened there. He had hurt people, he had lost control. It was dangerous for him to be out there, not only because of the danger he posed to others but the dangers posed to him. He wasn't going to be accepted as long as he looked like this. So he supposed the institute was the best place for him to be at the moment.
"Hrrrr beeeest plaaace tooo beee rrrrr if yooou looook liiike meee hrr," he said, thinking that was probably the best answer he could give if he was reading the question right. His attention then turned to Adder himself, "Rrrrr whhaaat brrrrrrrought yoou heerrrrrre?" he half growled. He really needed to work on his pronunciation of r's, it always sounded like he was growling them.
I don't think people understand how stressful it is to explain what's going through your head when you don't even understand it yourself. Wolf
At this point Tyson was way past reasoning, his life was over, he was a monster forever. There wasn't anything he could do, there was no cure, he would never see his mom again, he would never see home, he would never be normal. He hurt inside, more then anything else he had felt, a soul crushing pain as any hope was dashed into pieces, leaving only loss and rage. Unfortunately, Cafas didn't seem to be intent on leaving, wrapping his arms around him, as if trying to contain everything in him. If he were trying to comfort him, it was not working, how could there be any comfort ever again? Right now he wanted him out, he wanted the world out, he wanted everyone and everything to just go away.
Snarling, he snapped, fury blazing in his eyes, and his claws were on Cafas back, digging into the leather jacket easily before he tore the man from about him and lifted him over his head, hurling the man at the door. He wanted him out, gone, he didn't care if he had to throw him through the door to do it.
Still caught up in rage, still hurting, he clutched at his head, which felt like it was going to explode. He turned, leaning against the desk chair, his claws digging into the wood, before let out a huge snarl and lifted it to throw it against the wall, where it splintered and broke apart. The desk was next to suffer, as his claws dragged across the surface leaving deep gouges.
His fury went on, as he took his rage out on the walls carpet and furniture, little more then an angry animal, before finally he stood before the mirror, where he stopped, looking at the reflection, the hideous, ugly, stupid reflection. The sound of breaking glass filled the room as he slammed his fist against it, glass fell to the floor and Tyson hit at it again and again, blood dripping from his hands where the glass had cut, staining the backboard and wall. He continued still leaving dents and holes in the wall, until his rage was spent, and Tyson fell to the floor, growling and whining, in a pile of broken glass and shattered hopes, the blood dripped from his wounds, but he couldn't feel it. He felt numb... no, that wasn't it, he just hurt so much inside he didn't feel the pain. He didn't care, the stupid wounds were already healing. And this was it.... this was his life now. A silent wail left his jaw, he couldn't scream, his body wan't built for it, instead a whine mixed with a mournful howl came out. His life was over, it was all over.
I don't think people understand how stressful it is to explain what's going through your head when you don't even understand it yourself. Wolf
Tyson snorted at Adders comment about parents, "Hrrr undeerrrrstatmeeent," he said. He didn't know what kind of parents Adder had, but he was pretty sure they hadn't strapped him to a table and stuck needles in him for hours on end. He never wanted to have anything to do with that man again.
Tyson reflexively looked at his hand while Adder examined him. As he listened he examined them, not quite human, not quite wolf, the form and joints somehow somewhere inbetween. The way he moved his human hands didn't correspond well to the new design, he was having to relearn how to use them since they didn't respond the same way. He understood what adder was saying, it was just difficult relearning something that was supposed to feel automatic.
I don't think people understand how stressful it is to explain what's going through your head when you don't even understand it yourself. Wolf
Tyson felt something within him crack, a cold sensation felt like it leaked somewhere in his chest. This was him now? There was no cure? He was... he was stuck like this? His breathing grew heavy as he felt the warmth drain from him, leaving a hollow feeling in him. He could feel his hands.... his paws shaking. He looked down at them, wide eyed in shock at the knowledge that it wasn't going to go away. A series of half grows, half whines escaped his mouth as he clawed at his chest, the crumbing feeling there painful.
Since his transformation he had witnessed the horrible things he had done, been disgusted by the actions that his instincts drew him to do, the nightmare that was his existence day by day... that was.... this was... his life now? No... No... NO! A new sensating erupted, where it has once been cold, it felt like somone had stabbed it with a red hot poker. His growling intensified as the heat grew, catching through his body like he was burning inside. His vision seemed to tint with red as the hot, painful, burning rage consumed his being.
"Hrrrr.. HRRrrrrr... HHRRRRRR.... geeeet oouuuuut... hrrrrrrrrr," he said, his breath rough, ragged, labored. He felt the hand on his back, and he wanted to bite it. He wanted to sink his teeth in and tear it apart. It was taking all his willpower not to do it. He held his head, more to keep himself from such taking actions, but the growing snarls and growls that were coming from him seemed to indicate that this was only a temporary barrier. He was losing it, and the danger signs were growing, "HHHRRRRR GRRRRRR RRRRRRRR GEEEEET OOOUUTTTT HRRRRRRR!!!!!" he snarled again, in case Cafas had not gotten the message, his grip so hard his claws dug into his own flesh, drawing blood.
I don't think people understand how stressful it is to explain what's going through your head when you don't even understand it yourself. Wolf
Tyson appreciated what little encouragement Darkshift gave, even if it was merely that they were close to the place htey were going. He understood that he was not a person people were comfortable around, especially now when he was covered in blood. The fact that she was even attempting to help him showed more acceptance of him then anything else. He didn't expect anything else in the way of comfort when he was... well, a canabalistic, bloodthirsty monster.
As Darksift pointed out Sanctuary, Tyson just contunued forward. He didn't pay much attention to the design of the building or the doors. The only thing he could focus on at the moment was not collapsing into a heap and throwing up again. He was vaguely aware that Darkshift described the place as a mutant sanctuary. In any other circumstance he may have tried to explain he wasn't a mutant(as far as he knew) and his appearance was a result of his fathers experiments on him. However, right now he couldn't muster the strength to argue the point. As long as it was somewhere safe and out of sight, that was fine.
He staggered through the door, and finally his will gave out and he collapsed into a heap against the wall, pulling the trench coat off and holding his head between his paws, shaking violently. The blood on him was starting to dry, leaving a crusty dark lining around his mouth and on his hands. He felt dizzy, lost, sick inside. He wanted the taste out of his mouth, the scent out of his nose. "hrr...hrrr w-whaaa....teerrrr...hrr..." he struggled to say, weakly trying to ask for something that could wash away that meaty iron taste.
I don't think people understand how stressful it is to explain what's going through your head when you don't even understand it yourself. Wolf
Tyson did his best to listen to Danica without interrupting, which was easy as far as words were concerned but difficult in what he was feeling. He had figured that his writing and speaking was something nobody but him could fix, that was easier for him to accept because that was a physical problem that he could work on himself. When he first was transformed he couldn't talk at all so he knew he was making some progress there at least.
However the rest of what Danica was saying was a lot harder to sit through, let alone swallow. The very first idea, stripping down and pretending to be a dog at this point was almost insulting, the grimace on his face, if she could even decipher it was enough to show his distaste for the idea. It was just like asking her to strip down and act like a monkey. His first instinct was to yell at her then and there for suggesting it, but he gave her the benefit of the doubt that she was building to something, so kept his cool and did his best not to let his anger get the better of him.
Her pointing out the sensitivity of his sense of smell was a little more acceptable, just enough to help him keep quiet. Currently his sense of smell was too overwhelming for him to deal with, but he had noticed he was able to detect a lot more different scents then before. True he had trouble distinguishing due to the intensity and number, but maybe if he did get used to it he would get better at that. That may be interesting he supposed.
However what Danica finished up with he didn't like at all. She thought he should give into his instincts and hunt and kill things? That was worse then suggesting he strip and act like a dog. She was missing the point that he didn't want to be an animal, and here she was suggesting he be just that, a hunting, killing, naked animal. "Hrrrrrrrrr I'm NOT annnnnn aaaaannnnimmmaaalll rrrrrrrr!" he growled angerly as he felt a hot spot in his chest where hurt and anger boiled. "Rrrrr dooon't waaaant trrrrr kill, don't waaaaant trrrrr huuunt hrrrrrr," he shook his head in frustration, feeling his instincts starting to kick in again, reacting to the sudden rage as if he was under attack, and the urge to take a bite out of Danica made his turn away from her, growling as he fought to squash the reaction. This wasn't what he wanted, this wasn't who he wanted to be...
Growling loudly, he suddenly took off through the trees, putting some distance between him and Danica before he did something he would regret later. He didn't go far, just enough to where he could better attempt to calm down, crouching beneath one of the trees, clutching at his head as he tried to reel in the anger.
I don't think people understand how stressful it is to explain what's going through your head when you don't even understand it yourself. Wolf
Tyson slowly followed after Darkshift, trying to get over the weakness he still felt in his knees. He didn't like this, time and again his instincts put him into positions where he detested himself. What was worse was that it usually didn't register until after it had happened, so it felt like his choice even though with hindsight it was something he would have never done. And right now it felt like he was a dangerous animal that had mauled civilians, no matter how innocent they were or not. He felt like throwing up again, the taste of blood was still in his mouth, and as much as it sickened him, his animal side liked the taste, just as when he had devoured raw meat. Oh god, did that make him a cannibal? He didn't think he could handle that, not on top of everything else.
He tried keeping close, stumbling from time to time over his own feet, but managing to at least stay upright. At least until the next wave of nausea hit min. He doubled over, throwing up again, there was less blood this time, but he still felt god awful as he struggled with the conflicting mindsets about the taste in his mouth. At this point he was sobbing, the choking sound in his throat coming out as muffled whines and growls. He staggered to his feet again and tried to keep up, trying to ignore the lightheadedness and sparks darting around the edge of his vision.
I don't think people understand how stressful it is to explain what's going through your head when you don't even understand it yourself. Wolf
Tyson nodded, trying to navigate his emotions, "hrrrrrrr faaaatheeeeer diiid this trrrrrrr meeeeee," he said "grrrrr turrrrrned meeee intooooo thiss hrrrr, brrrrrrooought heeerrrr aftrrrrrrrr rrrrrescue rrrrr." How long had it been? He tried to think on it, it was hard for him to remember the when of it, the experiments his father had done on him left many gaps where he was unconscious or under the effects of a control collar. He couldn't tell it it had been weeks or month while he was captive. But here at the institute it had just been a few weeks hadn't it? It felt like so much longer, but that was more likely due to every day feeling like a struggle. Time went very slowly when you were uncomfortable in your own body.
"I've been as I am now since I was a kid."
So Adder had always been like this. No wonder he had control over it, it was probably second nature to him. That helped him feel... slightly better. He still didn't have any clue on how to control himself, but there was obviously some way, just not one that Adder could explain. "Rrrrrrr everrrrrything is sooooo diffrrrrrerrrrent, harrrrderrrr." he said, refering to his own struggle. He couldn't talk right, he couldn't use his hands correctly, sounds and smells were overwhelming and the wild impulses just made it worse.
I don't think people understand how stressful it is to explain what's going through your head when you don't even understand it yourself. Wolf
Tyson considered the name and the animatronic on stage. The name was a bit weird but he was no one to judge. The music was good and that is what counted for him. As people started heading up for autographs, Tyson stayed where he was. He may have considered it in his old life, but now it would probably be a bad idea, not only because of the crowd, but because he was sure if he got anywhere near 'celebrities' he would cause a scene. Maybe when he could get a more convincing costume. And had learned to speak without growling half the time.
Honestly Tyson couldn't drink coffee, not without spilling it all over the place. His mouth just wasn't designed for drinking in a normal manner, and he had not figured out a way to drink without making a mess. But he did like the idea of just sitting and talking. He found venting on people helped a bit, and the idea that there was actually some place he could go that was okay with how he looked was very appealing. "Hrrrrrr sooounds gooood rrrr," he said, "rrrrrrrr haaaave vooiice deeespiiiite thrrrrrr whoooole wooolf thing." he shot back, attempting to show he had some form of humor despite his appearance.
I don't think people understand how stressful it is to explain what's going through your head when you don't even understand it yourself. Wolf
Tyson didn't understand, well, he understood the words, but he didn't understand how it worked, as so far, everything the animal part of him wanted seemed contrary to what he wanted. It wanted raw meat, it wanted to attack people, it wanted to chase people off. He didn't want to do those things, so how could it be the same? He shook his head, unable to sort it, he just wished that things made sense again, that he could wake up and have all this be a dream he never had to think about again.
What shocked Tyson even more was that Adder said he didn't control his instincts. He couldn't believe that since he seemed in control of himself, more so then he had been. "rrrr hoooow... rrrrr hrrrrr dooon't unnderrrrrstaaand," he said, grasping at his head and shaking it as he struggled to figure it out. Was it just him? Was he the problem? How could it be that it was so simple for others but he was out of control? Was there just something wrong with him? Was there just something.... bad in him that made him do those things? He didn't have any answers, and he felt even worse, helpless, wrong.
I don't think people understand how stressful it is to explain what's going through your head when you don't even understand it yourself. Wolf
"Yeah DNA results are back. Confirmed an active X-gene. Couldn't tell you if it would have activated anyway, but it is now."
Tyson didn't know much about genetics, it hadn't been his focus in school, so what Cafas said didn't convey the intended message, "Hrrrrrr theeeen theeey can fiiiix rrrrrrr, deeeaciiiiivattee?" He had no working knowledge of how his father had done it, all he knew is that he had done something, pumped him full of chemicals, and experimented on him, in his mind the entailed that it could be undone, reversed it by undoing whatever it was his father had done. What it sounded like to him was that they discovered the cause, and could therefore undo it.
But then Cafas went on, describing mutation and learning control, and he became confused, and a lump started to form in this throat. "rrrrrr but.... cuuurrrrre? Suupposeed torrrrr geet... theey werrr suuuppoosed to hrrrrrrrr..." he didn't understand, he was here for help right? They were supposed to fix this, he was supposed to be going home to a normal life. He had to be misunderstanding, there was a cure, there had to be a cure. He looked at Cafas, a desperate expression on his face, almost pleading that he was missing something here.
I don't think people understand how stressful it is to explain what's going through your head when you don't even understand it yourself. Wolf
