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.
Posted by Martin Stein on Aug 18, 2012 15:31:23 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
760
0
Jul 2, 2013 5:22:49 GMT -6
Another one, older, whithered like the flowers in the second poem. Another one. Just words lining up for execution under an axe, drawn in bloody red, chopping through the line of words. The blade of the axe? A single word. Axe. (With a handle. Of handle.)
cometomeIsayhopingforyouranswerfromthedarkrisinglikethetideoflightyourvoicefromthedarkandyetIhadhope chuck. End. That was it.
Posted by Martin Stein on Jul 30, 2012 6:36:27 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
760
0
Jul 2, 2013 5:22:49 GMT -6
Another derelict. A ship that has been cast shore in the middle of New York. It lays on its side, rust slowly eating away in the hull, holes big enough to walk through being testament of chemistries onslaught. The load has long been carried away, though the dust suggest it was once filled with coal. The street the ship is stranded in is desolate. Nothing here but the rests of houses, long fallen. Greenery is slowly making its way through the cracks, forcing open what once remained closed. The first dasies are springing up in the asphalt of the streets.
Wind and weathered. Resistance. From afar the sea-wind brings a memory of salted air and with it cries. Of humans, not of gulls. The difference is nor makred any more.
In red on the ships side the words of the anonymous one, shining brightly. They are freshly written.
waves on shore call bright shine the stars in nightly sky over the wilting flowers
Posted by Martin Stein on Jul 25, 2012 15:10:29 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
760
0
Jul 2, 2013 5:22:49 GMT -6
{{ Where was it that you went the night it snowed? Walking down the bend of the road where you went?
}}} And mother always told you so especially from dusk of night to early mornings rosy light I said please stay, don't go
{ To see the things you would out in highest storm out to see the form when young I thought you should
{{{My heart it only sees as so I scribe in what is new a darkness known but once to few the light that on that day was seen }} It was as if you'd never been. Exept inside my mind whereform the darkest kind of thought now goest:
thy death hast sowest. The night you goest light melted every thimble snow And burned my heart
[] afire []
It is written in red ink on one of the many broken walls of what once was New York.
Posted by Martin Stein on Jul 9, 2012 9:22:10 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
760
0
Jul 2, 2013 5:22:49 GMT -6
Killer? Am I? The question bloomed like a growing ice crystal in Martins mind. Slowly it reached its tendrils out, assorted arms moving into the depths of his mind, just where the heeart was hidden. Creeping things, poisonous, were grown there, had grown for the longest time thinkable. unthinkable to anyone alive, was it not? The times thought of here. Too much, too many things cultivates there. Neat rows of ideas under ideas, stacking up in layers his different roles, identities.
Outwardly the killer was nearly unmoved. Only his eyes, those closed for a few seconds as the young vampire spoke on and on. The knife in his one hand was take by a slight shudder, almost one of rejection. Almost like the man was cold... inside. His eyes opened in the shadows. Seeing something grotesque, are we not? We don't like... this, are like this. The knife steadied as his steps, broken by a minute pause, continued. Towards one of the stairs leading down, out. Metal grids upon one another. The depths lay almost open here.
The light of a bare bulb flared overhead, painting harsh shadows on the walls. Martin shook his head, finally. There had been silence for a while as he was lost in his thoughts. He had allowed silence between them as his thoughts ran their course. "I am an assassin, not a fellow killer. While I may take pride in my work, make it good and even aesthetically pleasing, those aspects are not the core of my doings. Wherefore I am unlike you." The notes flowed now like water rushing down a slope. Coldly, inorexably drawing inwards. Sometimes a harsh consonant or vowel might be hinting at undercurrents. Dangerous undercurrents. The man was... slightly angered? Angry at the vampire? Could that be? He now was showing quite a bit of white teeth when talking. Almost like a dare?
Some further steps led the pair away from the harsh lighting. Back into half-shadow. Grays became more pronounced here. Down the slowpes, steps. The spiral went on and on it seemed. Ready to make you fall... for me. "And consider this, young friend: This was the first time I just a rifle during my work." Not that the information was particularly useful. Unless you wanted to go to the police. As a vampire that could be difficult.
Posted by Martin Stein on Jul 5, 2012 7:18:53 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
760
0
Jul 2, 2013 5:22:49 GMT -6
While Megan was still talking, the bartender put down the glass he had been filling and prepared one with a colorless liquid from a pitcher. The glasscame over the counter quickly indeed. Rested for a second before Gretchen. And as quickly as that it disappeared, as the lady with the laced costume showed her rather masculine side. Drowned it all in a few gulps. Surely accidentally it was that during that show her ample bosom popped into even better view by the males around the pair of ladies. Leers became a few catcalls that were met with rather suggestive smiles on her part. Mysteriously suggestive smiles. Cutting across the room to where the rowdiest patrons were congregating around a small table. No Rockers thankfully, but rather the usual assortment of fratboys that were closing on their personal limits. Sadly from the wrong side of the do-not-drink-that line.
Another ruby-red smile was aimed at the man behind the bar. So very red those lips, they wanted to get blood boiling quickly. And quite apparently at least something happened there, for the man quickly glanced away with a smile so full of self-irony that it was abundantly clear that a game was being played by both sides. A game both sides knew about and apparently found quite entertaining. At least Gretchen did not stop smililing. She even added just a tip of pink tounge showing between the teeth. Maybe a bit much, but who would not forgive the outrageously dressed lady for being outrageous?
"Hooooney..." The word flowed like the thing it represented. But tasted more like whikey. Smokey, erotic. Burning your throat. She wasnt loud enough for catcalls - or rather the rowdy bunch was too loud to hear, but Megan would be able to. "... would you mind getting us something more appropriate? And please go easy on the pink-and-sweet." From somewhere a handbag appeared on teh bar. It seemed to be made from pure black lace as well. It regurgitated a few notes that were out under the empty water glass.
This completed, the woman turned back towards her new acquaintance. "Lets see what he can produce with encouragement." She said loud enough for the busy barkeep to overhear. And for those men closer to them. She did not mind playing games, oh Gretchen did not. "my name is Gretchen by the way." She was interrupted by something slapping her backside. Liudly slapping. The smile in the direction of Megan and the Barkeep never wavered, but somehow her lacey handbag found its way into the face of the offender. Head now sprouting something besides badly oiled hair, he started cursing his fashionable acessory. Loudly cursing. Only the catcalls were louder again. Gretchen proceeded talking like nothing had happened. "And indeed... men..." She said. It was a smoky sigh. Even that - an ordinary sigh - sounded like a scene from a movie you should not show minors. And most adults for that matter. "... need to learn their proper place."
