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.
This seemed like a very new situation. A rather young girl was very, very angry with him. And had attempted to murder him. Had murdered him? He had been told by police that it wasn't murder unless he stayed dead, otherwise it was attempted murder. But wasn't it also still murder if the person died because of an unknown factor, like heart trouble? So shouldn't it be murder still if he survived because of an unknown factor? She probably didn't know he didn't die.
Or did she? It wasn't like he wouldn't agree to prove it, or to let people try stuff on him. It wasn't like it hurt for very long, although it was hard on his clothes. He should probably do laundry. Laundry took effort but he remembered he had a really good way to get rid of blood stains in his phone in his Important Notes thing.
Oh, did he do something weird? Was that why she was upset? "Did I forget something important again?" he asked meekly, holding his hands in front of himself and hoping they could sort whatever this was out before she killed him.
Again.
Would this be the second time or had they been through this more than that?
Memo's biggest regret, when he realized that his chest hurt and he couldn't breathe? He didn't have time to even look at how pretty the shiny version of the wings were.
For a moment, he simply twitched and oozed blood onto the couch, and then eased into stillness.
And then all the markings on his skin pulsed white, his skin put itself together, and his chest began to rise and fall again. During the change from black to white, a number of small markings, mostly on his hands, flickered and faded out, and then everything left darkened to a duller black than before as he sat up and rubbed at his face.
Mrrrrrr mornings were hard. And this wasn't his room. This wasn't the first time he'd woken up somewhere unfamiliar. Well, it wasn't quite completely unfamiliar. It was, uh.
Um.
Oh hey, a person. "Where is this?" he asked, a little bit dazed. What was she holding? It was shiny. And dripping.
It was dripping blood. Memo glanced down. His shirt was torn and soaked in blood. Wait, how high up were the gashes? He fumbled at the holes, heedless of the still-warm blood staining his gloves, and then sighed in relief. His binder might be bloodied (again) but it wasn't damaged.
Wait a second. He looked back at the girl and her shiny wings and shiny murderstabbingweapon. "Did you try to kill me?"
Why was she screaming. WHY WAS SHE SCREAMING. WHY WAS SHE SCREAMMMIIIIIIINNNNGGGGGG was she hurt? Did he need to call an ambulance or something? This was hurting his ears and he couldn't figure out why she was screaming and also it felt like his veins were vibrating, even the ones by his eyes and in his fingertips. Did his hair have veins? No, it wasn't like it bled when it got cut. So his hair was sugarrushing on its own. That was interesting. How much sugar must he had had? He must have been super super super tired.
"What is going oooonnnn??" His voice was still rising in a rather high-pitched wail when his vision flashed and the texture of the pillow imprinted itself into his face. "Wha??"
OOOOOOHHHHHH HER WINGS WERE SO PRETTY POOFED UP LIKE THAT!!! He wanted to take pictures and touch them and squeal like a fanboy over the cutest cute thing ever they were so awesome! His fingers twitched, and his complete obliviousness to the fact that she was trying to intimidate him was marked by the open joy at seeing such pretty wings.
Oh food! He knew where food was. It was in the kitchen, and he even knew what the kitchen - looked like. How did he get there, again? He held up a quick finger to the gorgeous-winged kid while he fought to remember. Nothing especially dramatic had happened there yet. WAIT he had a map somewhere!
"I can help with that! Once I remember how to actually get there. Gimme a sec." Map, map, map. He had copies in all sorts of clothes. There had to be one in one of his pockets here. Not that one, or that one, or that one. Oh hey, he had a text message! ... telemarketer. Boo.
He put his phone away and looked up. Oh hey, a kid with pretty wings! "Hello!/color]"
Zzzzzzzzzzkittens were fun, and fluffy, and cute, he should totally get a kitten but what if he forgot about it or forgot to feed it or??? That wouldn't be fair at all. Not one bit!
FOOD WHAT WHERE wait he wasn't actually hungry. He sat upright, blinking sleep out of his eyes again even though he shouldn't really have to, given, uh
What was he thinking about? He had been sleeping recently, hadn't he? Riiiiight, because he was so tired because he hadn't slept at all! Bam, braintired was back and caffeine took a back seat.
Oh hey, a person he didn't recognize! "Hello!" he said brightly. Kiddo had gorgeous wings. He wanted to take pictures of them but he didn't have his camera on him. That was sad. Wait! He was in the mutant shelter with the newly-shiny-again doors. So she was probably also staying here, so he would have more chances to take pictures! If he remembered. Or happened to have his camera next time he saw her.
"Can I help you?" Memo asked, in all earnestness trying to be helpful and completely forgetting that she had just asked for something.
Sometimes it was spectacularly awesome, his forgetfulness. It was ingrained enough that he generally didn't forget he was forgetful, which was helpful in daily life and conversations with new people, and it wasn't like he'd ever forgotten something like how to speak english. That would be super awkward. He'd never made it anywhere close to fluent in his dad's tongue before he'd died and Memo had moved across the continent in two directions.
Sometimes he forgot that he'd slept spectacularly well, and couldn't shake the knowledge that he hadn't slept at all, or that it had been completely useless.
So he was suuuuper tired, and had done what he did when he needed to work and was exhausted. He had made a giant cup of coffee, and then loaded it with sugar.
And then chugged it, and made another. And then a third.
He was sipping that third mug now, meandering around the shelter in mismatched socks (left foot tiny angry dragons of cuteness, right foot sparklekittens), somehow not mismatched chocolate brown full-finger gloves with turquoise cuffs, super comfy black sweatpants and an oversized hoodie with an amazingly soft fleece lining - lime green fleece, dark blue outside. His hat was back in his room, though. He wasn't going outside, probably, and this way he could flop on assorted furniture or counters or people and just snuggle into his hoodie. So fluffy.
Memo might be loaded with sugar and caffeine, but his brain was also insisting on TIRED, and then he saw feathers and he wanted to touch them. Except then he started nodding off and maybe on his way to leaning against them for a nap.
"I'm used to playing for people," Memo threw in, more or less maybe on topic. For now. Kind of. Was the timing right? He never could really remember, but that was okay because usually people figured out how to jump around with him. Or they just smiled and nodded. A lot probably did that, in all honesty, but that was okay because they were still being polite! It was good for people to be polite.
Oh, he should expand on that. He lifted the keyboard in its case, a three and a half foot long black mass that had done more than its share of wearing him out on the way here. It was more important to not hit it against stuff than the backpacks so yeah. "Keyboard. I can play lots of stuff. The particular array of stuff depends on what I remember at the time, though. Like everything else." Memoryyyyyy
"I'm Memo, and I don't remember if I said it already either. I also don't remember if I've said this yet, so here's a maybe repeat! My mutation involves memory. Plus I think I was an airhead before hand." If only he had a free hand. He loved giving a giant thumbs-up with that proud label. "I do feel like I've told someone that recently, though. Hm." He attempted to tap his chin, but all the straps and attached weights got in the way. "If there's any random things that need doing that might prove lethal to the people doing them, I can probably help there too."
His grin at the last was the naively casual grin of the immortal who forgot to specify that he was functionally immortal. It may have just come across as the grin of the mentally unhinged.
Clearly the solution is a series of otherwise identical sigs on a rotator, so that people will wonder if they're going mad when it always reads differently BUT IS THE SAME SIG?!?!
-piles on board and tries to find space for EVEN MORE THREADS so that he can bring back Aiden in time for this because Adder has too much education to catch up on and Memo has gone Sancdark-
Okay, they were doing heat stroke. He just had to remember which marking that was until it reset and he could just poke it instead of trying to remember the details of it on his own. Heat stroke. Heat stroke. Heat stro-
his phone was buzzing, but he was in class and there was no answering phones in class. He waited, and it eventually fell still again in his back pocket. Probably nothing anyway. Now, where were they-
He wasn't a student, right. He was guest teacher assistanting. And was going to be demonstrating.... um.
Maybe he should listen to the class for a bit. That would probably help.
....something about heat, but what was going on, exactly? Er. Um. Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhheatstroke that was what he was doing. Yes. He would leave the rest of what was going on to someone else, because he did not get it one bit, and just trigger some more torture he'd forget soon enough anyway.
In the corner, Memo casually poked the inside of his elbow, doing his best to keep a straight face.
Right up until his pigmented skin darkened considerably, sweat pricked against his skin as his body tried to ramp down his skyrocketing internal temperature, and it started to become rather difficult to see straight or sit upright. Maybe both. It was hard to tell.
Perhaps he should have waited until Juliette explained how to treat heat stroke.
...
What was the worst that could happen anyway? Death? Hardly permanent.
Woooo bed! Memo totally would have spun around and done a little dance if he weren't anchored in place by all his stuff. And he might forget what his goal was by the time he unentangled himself, sooooo
was he hungry? He had no idea when he'd eaten last, but that was hardly new. "I'm only hungry when I remember to be," he said cheerily, with a brief nod at lady green. "On the other hand, I'm only full when I remember I am too." He shrugged. It didn't bother him even when he thought about it.
Ooooh there was stuff to do? "I'd totally help out! This whole sell-everything-and-start-walking thing started by losing my job so it's not like I have much else to do. I think. I should probably check, but I'm pretty sure just about everything went poof like a little cloud of smoke out of phone that went swimming in the ocean."
Haul someone around? Sure, why not! He hadn't done all that much today, had he? Nah, and he wasn't going to stop to think about it because that might make him tired. Who needed to remember what they'd done recently? Not him, that's who not! Was that too many negatives? Also, wasn't he supposed to be doing something?
Memo put the pieces together again, courtesy of the very clear evidence and a few absent flecks of memory, and flashed the old dude a thumbs up. And then -
ahem. Then he crouched down beside the kid (was it this kid who had vomited on him at some point? Seemed a bit familiar that way. Whatever. More important things!) and poked his maybe-vaguely-awake shoulder. "This would be... somewhere in New York. Planes and buses are pretty memorable, after all. And don't worry about chattering, I won't remember how long you've been talking anyway." So, so true. "Up we go!"
Attempt number one to initiate hauling-around-of-kid-who-maybe-threw-up-on-him-and-possibly-got-him-killed, go!
Dang right it was a nice hat! Memo would have tipped it to the guy, but his hands were kind of occupied and there was a girl beside him what where did she come from???
Eh, he'd probably been talking to her or something and just completely forgot. Super pretty skin colour, though. He could do some cool photography stuff if -
if he weren't currently homeless and unemployed and trying to not sleep on the street tonight because streets were cold and hard and dirty and he kind of associated lying on them with dying.
"A place to put this down and forget how heavy it is would be a glorious start," Memo said cheerfully. "I do like to sleep, though, and I kind of had to sell my bed on short notice this morning. And almost everything else. A good time to not have pets, not a good time to exist."
Oh, door-cleaning? They were very gold. "They're looking very shiny," Memo said congratulatorily. Oooooh all this stuff was heavy. He should put it down.
...It might have worked better if he hadn't, er, just sat down. It kept him from dropping his keyboard, dropping that was bad, but the two backpacks were kind of stuck around his arms. Whatever, he hadn't broken anything and now the ground had the weight. Not that he exactly remembered how heavy the stuff was now, as long as he didn't think too closely about it.
Best way to be left along on sketchy streets of sketchiness? Make a huge racket and present as unpredictably, unreliably insane as mutantly possible. Plus singing made everything better, especially when it distracted him from how far he had hauled so much weight. Distractions made everything better!
"I WANNA TRY EVERYTHING! I WANNA TRY EVEN THOUGH I COULD FAIL!"
People were also moving out of his way, when he passed them, so he didn't have to weave around them and potentially lose balance. Ooooh, another good song! And another movie song cover. Had to love flashy becoming-a-superhero movies. Especially ones that didn't attempt to be about mutants and then just get everything so incredibly wrong. A few were just about people behaving like heroes. Really, that made a bigger impact in the world, didn't it?
Although mutants who acted impressively undeniably had a larger effect. And were less likely to be killed in action. Like him! Well, he was very likely to die but he wasn't going to stay dead! Take that, ye cloaked spectre with a scythe-y sceptre!
YOUR DESTINATION IS ON THE RIGHT.
Wait what? His destination? He wasn't just wa-
oh.
Memo pushed the skip forward touchscreen-button on his phone to change the song and distract himself before the new, tangled ring on his chest could turn white again and put him through everything all over again. He'd had enough today. He really had, even with almost all of it pressed into the faded distance of half-forgotten.
Oh hey, there was someone polishing doors that looked like they used to be maintained by a gold-shining mutant who was no longer around to shine them up. Gold doors. That was where he was headed! Sanctuary. Mutant place for mutants with nowhere else to live.
"Hellloooooo!" he called, freeing a gloved hand (dark purple with stars and multiple moons, and fingerless) from the strap of the backpack that wanted to cut off his arm more. At least for the moment. It wanted to cut off the arm that was currently carrying his keyboard in its case.
Fast post because I'm on my way out the door. I just ruined Memo's life, and he is going to show up to Sanc if your open thread is still open tonight, he might show up there with all his remaining stuff.
if your open thread is still open tonight, he might show up there with all his remaining stuff.