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 Welldrinker Cult
A shadowy group is gaining power, drawing in people who are curious, vulnerable, or malicious, and turning them into Mystics. They are recruiting people into their ranks to spread the influence of magic in the world, but for what end goal?
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.
The plane shook as it reached the proper height for the jump. 34,000 feet above the pacific ocean almost 40 miles out from the coast of North Korea. The Ranger checked their location on a GPS and gripped his throat mic, "Five minutes out." His oxygen mask precluded use of a conventional microphone. He turned to Cafas and continued. "Remember, after ya jump count t' 15 then pull yer shoot."
The Ranger crossed to the back of the aircraft, took hold of a bar and waited for the door to open. And when it did there was nothing but stars. They plane was above the clouds in the dead of night. The red light changed to green and the Ranger jumped out into the night.
Unofficially Ranger was acting under a nonexistent contract to quietly enter the North Hamgyong Province of North Korea, enter a hidden facility where it was believed a mutant was being kept who was crucial to the North Korean nuke program, and eliminate the threat in whatever means necessary. No markings as to his country of origin, non of his gear was American, and the aircraft was "borrowed" and never entered entered Korean airspace. Cafas was brought along due to his unique ability to be a human shield while also being competent a fight.
13... 14... 15 and the Ranger pulled his shoot. Now he would slowly parachute a few miles inland using a GPS attached to his forearm to navigate. It would serve as the only light once they passed below the clouds.
The Ranger shrugged and finished his beer. It didn't make much of a difference to him whether or not the X-Men relegated themselves to a state of being less useful than your average beat cop. Certainly this meant talented people who could be useful to society would be held back, but it also meant there was one less hand in the pot of actually trying to bring justice.
"It's been a pleasure, but it's time to call it a night." He then held out his hand to shake Cafas' while palming a card for Blackforest Tactical, only the name in embossed lettering with a phone number below, and quietly added, "If ya decide ya wanna do some actual good on the side." And with that he left.
"There is no goin' back," the Ranger agreed, "but they could be used as cover fer another team. Smaller, quicker, stealthier. Built outta the most apt. Leave the X-men for rescuing kittens and shaking hands with the boys in blue, let this other team handle the real threats with whatever the appropriate response may be, unbridled by rules imposed by traditional law enforcement who are otherwise woefully ill equipped."
The Ranger raised his beer, but stopped short of drinking. He laughed at a thought, "You could even go back under. Be Cafas the useless X-man reading to kindergarteners by day and wear a mask and silly costume for anonymity and actually do good." That said he drank from his beer.
Cafas gave a brief assessment of the current X-Men power structure. All names he'd heard, but only one he'd met. The intel wasn't immediately valuable to the Ranger, but a working knowledge of the organization of the major players in the city was always useful to have stored away for a later date.
"Work's been good. I run a PMC, so I move more paper than lead. Though ever' now an' again I get t' kick in a door."
Cafas mentioned he was an X-man. The Ranger hadn't met many but had heard much about them. His impression of them was that they aimed to do good, but their structure limited their ability to function. A mutant militia masquerading as a law-enforcement agency with no governmental liability. And it seamed Cafas to think along those lines.
"Their image is too big, their focus to broad. Leave police work t' police an' shift t' covert activity." The Ranger began, "They should maintain a combat force of only those who can, all else in support roles. If mutant fightin' is the game only use combat capable powers in combat unless they are otherwise skilled enough. They don't carry a badge so they shouldn't act as them. Worry about justice, let police worry about law."
"Cold blooded or content t' keep mostly t' themselves." The latter plus his ability to defend when the former came knocking had kept him alive. One could argue the Ranger's willingness to do what must be done makes him cold hearted, but those people live in a fantasy land... and a fine beer with lime was now in front of him.
Squeeze the lime, stuff it in, tip the bottle, enjoy. There is a reason some poople go to work just for cerveza money. "It's an excuse," He started with a wave vaguely toward the stage."a reason t' play. Not t' mention a chance t' culture these Yanks." A smile crossing his face with the last line. "What 'bout you? The booze is fair enough, but I can' say much about who they allow t' play here."
"Oh? Bullets don' work on you? That seems rather unfair." He mused, "Had I shot an' it didn' drop you, would going up t' bat something built Ford tough have worked?" He waived off the comment he'd made with a dismissive grunt. It didn't much matter and no need for a pissing contest. "I hadn't wanted t' shoot yah. Even then I still wadn't a cold blooded killer."
The barkeep made his way over at Cafas beckoning. He wanted another drink, but after looking at is beer he decided he didn't want another of these. Yankee beers, like everything else they did, left much to be desired. "Best Mexican beer yah got, with lime." He'd learned a long time ago you had to ask for that here. Most bartenders knew you served Mexican beer with lime, but it seemed one too many didn't. He then drank the rest of the beer and set down the empty bottle.
"If nothin' else the vision showed I'd be able to do much more than jus' survive in an apocalypse. The Ranger began soberly, "But, only with a lot of hard work, sweat, an' blood. Much of it not mine." He looked down at his hands, images of memories from the vision flashed in his mind. He'd done what was necessary.
He took a long swig of his beer. For the most part he'd pushed aside the dream of the future. Until now there was no way to validate it as more than just a bad dream. Thanks to his time in the military he had been prepared mentally and physically, but he was not as materially prepared as he could have been. Certainly he was better off with regards to ordinance than virtually any other single person in the city, but food and a shelter had to be taken.
"A warnin' makes sense. Though, a vision alone is about as believable as a homeless guy with an 'End is Near' sign." He took a sip. "An' if it was it'd make more sense t' show more of what caused it instead of what happened after it went t' shit."
The Ranger had to snort at the line regarding Cafas' hair. The statement was nearly ridiculous enough to make the hair not dumb as hell. "An' here I thought you'd exhausted all the pink dye in the world."
The man answered with his reply from the dream. So it was real or at least real enough, more than just a dream in any case. Which begged the question, what was it? Shared dream, vision of a possible future, or a glimpse into an alternate reality. Thanks to mutants, nothing is outside the realm of possibilities.
"My questions are what and why. What caused it and why? It likely wasn' jus' a dream. Things are never that simple, or convenient."
He picked up his drink again, went to take a drink, but stopped. He had to ask, "An' whats with the damn hair?" Then he took a drink.
The other man turned and addressed him and the bartender produced the beer. Had they met before? The Ranger took a swig of his beer and looked at the man. He looked familiar, only younger and with hair that could only be challenged by a rainbow in gayness.
The Ranger believed he had seen him once, in a dream. A dream of a future Earth blighted by nuclear fire, a future where survival required strength, skill, and willingness to do what was necessary. A world where the strong do as they can and the weak suffer what they must.
In that dream the Ranger had fired on this man. This man he had never met, but who happened to be a real. Could this mean that it was more than a mere dream? What had his name been? ...Cafas sounded right.
Setting down the beer he repeated the first thing he'd ever said to the man, "Roadwork ahead."
Open mics, a guilty pleasure of the Ranger's. They were an excuse to play his guitar and harmonica and to give him a distraction from working. Normally he's play something more in like with Stevie Ray Vaughn so as to not scare away to Yankees, but tonight Yanks be damned. Tonight it was Texas Country. Tonight he was playing some Roger Creager.
The Ranger took the stage an acoustic guitar in hand and slung a harmonica holder around his neck. After announcing the song he began to play Storybook by Roger Creager. A personal favorite of his.
When he finished there was some applause and some confused faces. Clearly country, even Texas country which is to Nashville country as as prime rib is to a cracker, was not something they were used to up here. It was a good thing the Ranger didn't think highly enough of his audience to care about their opinion on his choice of song.
Leaving the stage, the Ranger stashed the harmonica and headed for the bar. He took a spot at the bar next to some pink haired weirdo. He leaned his guitar against the bar and ordered a beer.
As the bartender was fishing the Ranger out a beer, the Ranger looked at the man next to him. Pink hair aside, he looked familiar.
Through the city the Ranger drove, his eyes checking the readout to make sure he was traveling the correct direction. As he drove he realized he was heading to a much more run down and destitute part of the city. The culprits were likely hiding their activities behind the already high crime rates of poor areas of the city.
After a couple hours of driving across the city the instrument was finally showing truly promising information. Likely he was within a few blocks of wherever they were hoarding the radio-iodine. It was then that he finally noticed his tail.
A small grey car that looked innocent enough by itself. It would never stand out, except the Ranger had seen it one too many times. It was why the past few days he'd felt like he was being watched.
The Ranger immediately wheeled the car around, a car horn blared as he nearly ran over some Prius, and stomped on the gas pedal. The pursuing car tried to get out of the way, but the driver reacted too slow and the Fordasaurus plowed into the side of the other vehicle. The momentum of the massive SUV took the other car for a ride, eventually stopping several yards later. The Ranger jumped out of the truck and approached the other car, glancing at the damage to his four wheeled titan. The grill guard had done its job, the damage to anything vital to the car was miniscule at best. The other car, not so much.
Ripping the passenger side door off , and throwing it behind him, the Ranger looked inside. There was no one. "Shi-" The Ranger wheeled around in time for a fist to drive into his gut.
A few staggered steps away and the Ranger was ready to go. Bringing his fists to bear he got a good look at his assailant. It was Blur. "You know, I really liked that car." Blur commented before throwing a punch. The Ranger brought an arm up to block but it just went through it and struck the side of his head. "Sorry about that, here try again." Again Blur threw a punch, but this time the Ranger ducked away and threw his own punch. His hand passed right through Blur causing no damage. "Oh, that tickles!"
Another dodged strike from Blur and the Ranger gained some distance. He knew Blur could move fast enough to phase through objects, it was how he was able to break into places and steal equipment. It was unlikely a fast moving object would have any better shot, but it was worth a try. He drew his Sig, moved to where a brick wall was behind his target, and fired. It phased passed right through, but it did stop Blur for a moment. "Nice try, but you can't hurt me. Nothing physical can touch me if I don't want it to."
The Ranger used this time to reach a door to the Fordasaurus and pull out a stun gun. "You can't run, you just got here... and who would drive me home. You totaled my ride after all." The Ranger could hear his steps as he ran up behind him. The Ranged whirled about when Blur was right behind him and fired up the stun gun as he drive it toward Blur.
Blur tried to phase through it, but when his torso went through the electrodes the electricity arcing across them didn't seem to care how fast he was moving. "I wasn't plannin' on leavin'."
Blur shrieked as he visibly phased in and out, his control of his muscles clearly obstructed. After a few seconds the Ranger cut it off and immediately punched the man. He wasn't ready for it and the blow knocked him off his feet.
Again electricity arced across the electrodes of the stun gun as the Ranger took a step forward. "Time t' talk."
A green energy blade slashed at the Ranger, he dove to one side just in time. The other man was exceptionally fast. The man swung again using the momentum from the last strike. Again the Ranger dodged it, the blade slid through a stack of ammo cans like a hot knife through butter. There was no indication that the blade melted its way through, it was as if all the atoms touched just decided to go it alone as the blade passed.
The Ranger raised his Sig to shoot his assailant, but had to dive to avoid another strike. Again the man tried to follow up, but this time the Ranger stopped the strike by throwing his tomahawk into the man. He recoiled as the blade sunk into his side.
Seizing the opportunity, the Ranger took hold of a shelf with his now free hand and as his power augmented his strength, bitch slapped the man with steel shelf that dumped boxes as it was wheeled around. The blades cut through the shelf, but it did no good. The shelf still struck him and drove him into another shelf which toppled backward behind him.
Weighing his options as the man freed himself from the shelf sandwich, the Ranger raised his gun, and fired.
If anyone heard the gunshot, they might call the police. Depends how neighborly they're feeling. It was best to air on the side of caution. He policed his brass and set to work.
Radio-iodine goes through beta decay, the isotope fires off positrons, an antimatter particle, which when they interact with an electron cause an annihilation event which results in two gamma rays traveling in opposite directions. This allows for it to be used as a tracer. All that was needed was a device that used X-Ray diffraction. Essentially when the gamma rays interact with non-radioactive material they produce fluorescent x-rays which can be used to identify the radioactive material present.
Larger than a Geiger counter, but smaller than a laptop, the device was cumbersome to use by hand, but not impossible nor did it negatively impact function. The ranger powered his portable XRD instrument and quickly confirmed there was radio-iodine here. The geniuses had hardly shielded the stuff. Well at least tracing it would be easy enough.
The Ranger retrieved his tomahawk and left the warehouse, through a back door. He fired up the Fordasaurus, turned on the much larger, much more sensitive, XRD instrument he wired into the vehicle and pulled out onto the road. The radiation as his guide.
Down the stairs the Ranger went. His first goal was to kill the lights in the warehouse. From what he could see, any natural light would have to be filtered down to the ground level through the upper level he was just at. In essence killing the lights would radically darken the ground level despite the sun light beaming in through the windows.
Quietly moving along the walls the Ranger searched for and eventually located the fuse box for the warehouse. The case was locked. It would have been easy enough to pick, but were he to just flip the circuits off someone could easily flip them on. Instead he unclasped the sling holding his tomahawk and with one good swing severed the wires. There was a flash of electricity, the grip of the tomahawk protecting him, and then all the lights died at once.
Immediately cries of irritation and surprise rose up from the men in the middle of the industrial labyrinth. In the darkness he could easily see a glowing green light flare up somewhere past loaded pallets and shelves, later followed by flashlights coming on. Then, the Ranger's perception changed. There was a ripple in his vision and suddenly the darkness with a distant island of light was gone. The structure of his retinas had changed to allow him to see infrared light. Night vision. Certainly a major advantage in a situation such as this, except when it happened his eyes would shine like an animal's. Which itself had some advantages, namely, instilling fear.
His eyes adjusted, the Ranger went on the move. The severing of the cables made noise alerting the guards that it was likely someone had done it not just a random power outage. He made his way into the narrow passages.
He could hear the other men moving, they weren't trained for this kind of situation. Their footfalls were too loud and their lights telegraphed their movements.
Before long the Ranger had moved up behind one of the men. Quickly choked him out, tied him up, and was off. Soon he found another. The man was headed toward him. The Ranger hid behind a pallet and watched as the pool of light from the flashlight grew brighter. When it was evident the man was right around the corner he rounded it and struck the man in the throat with his palm so he couldn't call for help and then when he leaned forward to instinctively guard his neck the Ranger put his hands behind the man's head and drove it into his raising knee. The man went down. Two down, two to go.
The sound of the man dropping attracted a yell from another of the guards. The Ranger pulled back to a more secluded area between two pallets where he could watch for the man's arrival. When the man ran past him, the Ranger choked him out as well. One left.
And then there was a crash behind him. The Ranger wheeled round and saw the source of that eerie green light. The final guard had a pair of green blades comprised of some type of energy emanating from his forearms. He had sliced through a steel shelf and it's contents with ease to confront the Ranger, who could now be easily sen in the green light bathing the area.