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.
But what if it were so dangerous there wasn't time to find anyone- oh. Oh oh oh. He recognized that face. That was the Memo-forgot-to-explain-context face, the this-guy-is-totally-nuts face. It was certainly common enough to remember what it looked like, and he raised his hands in quick protest. "No no no! I mean I'm offering because it won't kill me. Or it might, but I won't stay dead. Really. I forget about dying pretty much as soon as it happens, so I don't die. Really."
Maybe at some point he'd remember to work out the details, and then put them on a business card or something before he forgot what he'd worked out. Maybe he had worked them out, but had then forgotten. But if he had it on a card, he could just pass it out! And remind himself. That would so super useful.
Oh look it was time to go inside! Memo sprang back to his feet, came extremely close to falling over when he realized how burdened he still was, and then paraded in behind the green skinned girl he still wanted to photograph.
It was the most fun hat ever, and she was a good person for recognizing that. "Totally super fun. There's a bell on it too. Not intended to remind me that I'm wearing it, but it totally does the trick. It's from my dad, back when I was a kid. The hat, not the bell. I got the hat with the bell." Probably. That was a detail about his hat he didn't actually remember. Mostly he remembered how it felt to wear it, how it squished down his hair and made it fluff around his face. Like it was doing right now! Because he was remembering it. Sometimes he remembered things that didn't hurt.
He patted his hair and smiled at her. What was her name? Er-
Oh, she was telling him again! Oh good. "Serena is a nice name. I have no idea if I've said that already, but it is." He offered her a thumbs up. "Were you headed anywhere? Talking to you is nice but I feel like bad things have happened for standing around talking on the sidewalk forever. Although maybe it was just getting yelled at a bunch. I'unno. If I have to be somewhere, my phone'll go off soon enough, so yeah."
"True; a lot of people who see me think I'm just really heavily tattooed, but all of these are memories." Memo held out an arm and pulled his sleeve up with a gloved hand to reveal the glossy black markings on his dark skin. "I feel like I've freaked people out before too, though. And I remember seeing parents move their kids across the street from me. Dunno if that's the mutant, the perceived tattoos, or the hat." Such a great hat-
HE WASN'T WEARING HIS HAT IT WAS IN HIS ROOM
"The hat I'm not actually wearing. It's a super awesome hat. Think wizard hat with a toothy face on it. It's great." He did love his hat.
He settled his sleeve back into place and scratched his head a bit. "I don't see why not. I'm okay at not remembering things as long as no one touches any of my markings. Including me. Hence the gloves." He wiggled his fingers. "Not sure how that one got triggered, though. It's, well, you saw where it is." He rubbed his clothed stomach. How did that happen? Eh, he couldn't remember.
Unique indeed. If Memo had ever come across someone with a similar power, he'd managed to forget it, but he felt like that would be more than distinct enough a situation to carve a permanently visible memory into his skin. Blood manipulation was a first for him too. "I haven't actually met that wide a range of mutants, for all I live with a constantly changing group of them," he said, curiosity rising now that most of the confusion had moved away.
"Being able to control something must be nice," he continued. "And blood's got a lot of uses. Like today." No everyone forgot if they died. Rather few people did, in fact. Perhaps only one did. Who knew? It wasn't as if there was a master list of mutations in existence.
Names! A name he'd almost certainly soon forget, along with so many others, whether or not he intended to. "I'm Memo. It's originally from my middle name, but it stands so well on its own too. I have to have reminders for almost everything."
Memo was so glad she was willing to explain a bit. This was always so much smoother when someone could explain what in the world was going on. That person never seemed to be him, although he frequently had to try.
Bleeding to death. Unpleasant but not especially surprising. It definitely felt like a habit of sorts. An unpleasant habit, and one that most people didn't have to deal with. He nodded his understanding. "I feel like you distracted me enough to forget about it," he mused aloud. "I think it's that or I died, anyway. I'm not sure I could tell the difference, though. Actually, I'm not sure there is a difference for me. It's kind of hard to figure out and I'm not sure I'd remember it if I did."
WAIT A SECOND HE HADN'T EXPLAINED YET probably
"I'm a mutant. I basically forget stuff. And then remember stuff. Which exists if I remember it but not if I forget it. Like bleeding to death. Or dying. Or being drunk."
Great, now she was confused too. Maybe his mutation should just be to instill confusion in everyone. Or maybe that was just an actual side effect? He hadn't run into another power-reader since the group with the last one tried to kill him and only kind of succeeded.
Errrrrr
Could barely stand? Memo looked down again, expecting to see something going on with his legs, but instead noticed that his shirt was wide open. Embarrassment kicked in before recognition of the blood bandage, and his dark skin flushed as he hurriedly moved to button up his shirt and cover his binder. He'd had people react worse to things like that than to his mutation. When he was half done with the buttons, though, he felt the hardened blood through his gloves.
He stopped to poke at it and kind of stare. "What is that?" he asked, confused but also curious before a familiar realization dawned on him. "Oohhhhh was I dying again? No, that doesn't explain why I'm not covered in blood." His forehead wrinkled in thought.
Memo leaned back a little bit, feeling much better. The sun was really quite nice, sitting here. Soft and warm. He'd been feeling a little bit cold, but the sun was definitely fighting that off. The ground was warm too. It was nice to sit down and just enjoy the world sometimes, even on a random sidewalk. Relaxation was so underrated sometimes.
"Ambulance?" Memo asked, vaguely confused. He looked around. The woman was standing up, but she was covered in blood and his hands were clean. He always seemed to get blood on his gloves, but they looked just fine. Usually he was the one covered in blood, but he didn't hurt at all. He scratched the side of his head and looked back at the woman without examining himself further. She was talking about him being hurt, but she was the one who looked hurt.
He pushed himself to his feet, blood loss literally forgotten. "Are you okay?"
Memo had time for exactly one wibble before the winged murderer fell upon him again, bloody crystal flashing in the casual lighting of the living room's lighting. Somehow, the room seemed both completely unsurprised at the violence and also completely unassociated with it.
He tried to raise a hand in protest, and for a moment it seemed as if she was satisfied with the repeated stabbing.
Then the feather-shaped crystal descended once more, closer to his face, and he closed his eyes as fire ripped into his neck.
A decidedly lethal amount of blood was soaking the couch now, and even as Memo's body slid sideways to hit the floor while his head stayed on the cushion alone, his array of markings determinedly turned white once more. The way his body reset was definitely describable only as mutant, and once again Memo was left unharmed but covered in blood, this time lying on the floor. Fortunately for his stomach, there was no sign of the head he'd left behind. Other than, well, the extreme amount of blood.
He started breathing again before he opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling for a long moment.
A bit of blueishness caught the edge of his vision, and he glanced down to see if it was just his eyes messing with him, or lack of blood or something. It wasn't, but his blood was moving and also there was so much of it and it really didn't help him feel better. Hair. Hair was safe to look at.
Staring at the woman's hair, he at least kept from fainting (and more from looking at all the blood than from losing that blood) and stayed calm enough to notice the pressure. It felt much better than the whole freely bleeding out scenario, and it became a little easier to stay sitting up.
"You are very helpful," Memo said, as if saying that would help her even more. Or maybe he just wanted to say it. He wasn't sure. Thinking wasn't so much like slogging through thick, sticky stuff as trying to catch a laser pointer that was being shaken at a disco ball.
"Are you a nurse? I think you remind me of one. I think I ruined her froyo. Have we met before?"
Calm down? He hurt and he was bleeding and he hurt. That wasn't very calming. He made to wibble a bit at her, but then she was making him sit down and he was way too dizzy to do both at once and sitting down was clearly not optional, so he just did that.
Aw, she sounded so nice and helpful. "Okayyy," he said, somewhere between faintly and almost dreamily. When had he started to take off his shirt? Oh, she had. Ohhhhh that was not a pleasant sight. She might be able to look at the stab wounds buuuut he would really rather not. There had to be other things to look at. Ummmmmmm uhhhh oh! He could stare at her hair. That was better than nothing.
Something about mutant. Yes, yes he was a mutant. He gave a floaty thumbs-up, intending to confirm that yes, he was a mutant, but hey it worked to confirm that he wasn't bothered by mutantness too. The sun was reflecting off of her hair. The little skinny bright lines looked cool, when he could see them clearly.
From, er, what? He was bleeding, and he really hurt, but his power had activated a little too sporadically in the last few moments for the actual attempted mugging to make much of an impact. Perhaps he was going to look like a dying fool again. That felt vaguely familiar, so he probably did it a lot.
If nothing in particular had happened... oh, he must have remembered getting hurt again. That would probably help his saviour understand. "I think I remembered this," he said with all the helpfulness in the world, and wobbled where he stood. Looking down, that was really a lot of blood. How had this injury not killed him the first time. Or had it?
"I'd really rather not die again," he said wistfully. "I think I've done that too much lately."
It had never been a normal day. Seriously. Memo started off by going for a walk, since he'd spent the previous day scrubbing dishes and standing in one place and wanted a change (and that mood had stuck around through the night). But then he'd forgotten where he was going, and then why he was walking and not running, and then he'd run through an alley during an apparent gang fight, and they'd all yelled at him, and then he'd kept going and got caught up in some sort of pro-mutant protest.
And then the cops had come and lined the streets, and he couldn't run out the other side because there was a wall of uniforms and META bots, and he was just running! He wasn't doing anything. The protest didn't explode or get violent or anything, though, and after nearly an hour of forced walking the protest tapered off and people started heading home. With the group splitting up quietly, the police let them go and the bots didn't even go rampage-y and try to arrest anyone. Memo was vaguely surprised but couldn't quite put a finger on why.
He'd returned to jogging after that, only to be stopped by a lingering police officer who wanted to know why he was running. He was just trying to go for a run, really! He'd just run into that group, and then he couldn't get out for a while. There wasn't much the cop could argue with there, and there was no robot logic around to interfere, so Memo got to continue on with a warning to behave himself.
A few blocks later, someone jumped him in another alley, grabbing him around the middle and trying to haul him to the ground.
For better or worse, his would-be mugger's hands slipped under his shirt and clamped down on a pattern of streaks just below his ribs. Which then turned white, and featherstab gashes tore themselves back into existence as something about maps and children with pretty wings forced its way back into his head.
The mugger freaked out and bolted, shoving Memo aside to get out of the way himself. His bare hand caught the back of the bleeding mutant's neck, and by sheer luck brushed another marking.
Sunburn. So much sunburn. Last summer, seasonal job working outside, forgot sunscreen. NEVER FORGET SUNSCREEN AGAIN.
Perhaps if he hadn't been looking at his very much bleeding guts at the time, all that would have been left of that memory would have been the fresh blood on his shirt, but he was. So the memory was interrupted, and less lethal than the original, but now he also had a severe sunburn across the back of his neck and most of his arms. And the backs of his ears. The back of his neck was definitely the worst, though.
He staggered onto the main road, arms clamped over his very, very painful belly and tried to yell for help. It was kind of tangled up with colourful swear words, general confusion, and the complete forgetting, for the moment, that he could just forget about the injury.
Sadly, not the first time he'd forgotten that he could heal from whatever.
Oh wow, attempt number one was successful. Score. The walk was just long enough for Memo to almost-forget everything leading up to it, and he blinked at the doctor-healer-guy with a start.
"Oh, I'm Memo," he said after the kid they were carrying answered. "Things that are really ingrained are harder to forget. Recent things, little things tend to get overwritten, though. So that stuff doesn't stick around. Or sometimes it does, and I'm never all that sure why."
Why was he talking about his mutation so much? Eh, didn't matter. It wasn't like they could probably actually kill him if they turned out to be violently anti-mutant.
She was going to let him liiiiiive! At least for a bit. Okay, okay, map. Map map map. Where was his map. Maaaaapppppppppp
Paper! Memo whipped the folded sheet out triumphantly, but it had been in his hoodie pocket and easily three quarters of it were dripping red. Memo blinked at it. It was very soggy. "I'm, uh, not sure how much of this I can read," he said quietly. "Stabbing me again might make you feel better, but I think that's why my map is so, uh."
The map split in the middle of the red part, too soggy to support its own weight. It wobbled for a moment, while Memo stared at it, and then the tear made it to the other edge and a chunk of bloody paper mush dropped onto the couch beside Memo.
That had been the part with the kitchen, hadn't it?
Food? "Food's in the kitchen," Memo said helpfully. "And the kitchen is.... gimme a second. I have a map around here somewhere." Would she kill him if he lowered his hands to look for it? It had to be in a pocket somewhere. He was always fishing out fuzzy paper balls from his laundry because he had copies in pretty much every pocket he owned.
Had going for the map gotten him killed yet? He kind of felt like it had. He couldn't tell how many times he'd been stabbed, or killed; he was really just going by the cuts in his shirt and the amount of blood on it. And the couch. And just kind of everywhere in general. When had his gloves picked up all the blood on him? He liked these gloves.
"I can show you where the kitchen is if I can get my map out without dying," he offered in all reasonableness.
