Nameless Neopians

Have you ever strolled along somewhere in Neopia, hands in your pockets and enjoying the weather, when you come upon a lone vendor on the side of the road? With nothing to do and nowhere else along the road to go, you buy a few knickknacks and hoozie-wutzits. Leaning on the counter of this poorly made booth, you gaze out the wonderful world and try to start a conversation with this helpful Neopian. "How's business?" you ask, or "How is life treating you?"

The vendor responds with a smile and gives you a few statistics and comments to answer you. Together you talk for a few minutes until the conversation runs thin, and looking at your watch, you realize it's time to go home and make dinner. You ask his name so you may return one day when you're bored again, or just need a friendly face to talk to. But instead of grinning again and satisfying your inquiry, the poor vendor only frowns and shrugs. He doesn't have a name!

There are several poor, lost Neopians in the world who have been passed up by the name-giver. Many are people we talk to and do business with every day, pets who give more help than they receive. Day after day, week after week they continue with what they are doing, never complaining and never growing bored with what life has dealt them. But do they even have a single word to call their own? No sirree!

Take the pink Uni at the pound for example. She assists thousands of Neopians a day in finding caring and loving homes, but through all those days she remains without an identity. I mean, really, Mr. Chipper in Happy Valley has a name, and does anyone ACTUALLY ever have an ice cream coupon?

I'm sure everyone has met this pink Uni with glinting blue eyes and a pleasant pearl white smile. Unlike her partner, Dr. Death (who, may I add, has things named after him like plushies and cards and other fripperies that come with having fame and a name), she has no identity to go by. I'll bet she's even a ton nicer than him.

When you're visiting the pound and you run your pointer over Dr. Death, he frowns at you for even thinking about abandoning your pride and joys into the cold unknown. But the pink Uni frowns not because you wish to adopt. No, the slight chance of you even considering to possibly take a shivering Neopet who was so cruelly and carelessly tossed aside into your warm and loving home is the best thing that could ever happen to her. Uh-uh. She frowns because in all the world, she only wishes that there was a name she could supply you with to better help you in your time at the pound. It frustrates people when they look at you and see no "Hello, My Name Is..." tag, and having any unhappy customer sends shivers down her spine and steals the shimmer from her coat.

Or take the busy little Flotsam constantly laboring over a hot fire and stove to cook a meal for the great Mumbo Pango every five minutes. Wouldn't it be nice if he was able to complete his bleach white outfit with a neat little "Chef *Name Here*" embroidered across his chest? He cooked for years for the royal family of Maraqua, and is pushed every single day to produce hundreds of fancy dishes with no pay. And he isn't even rewarded with a name!

I'm sure you've been kind enough to stop by his little kitchen at least once or twice. And if you have done that, then you know how he humbly asks for an itsy bitsy little bit of help with his work, and how he rewards you graciously each time you bring by the ingredients he needs. His quests are famous throughout Neopia, but he is only known as the Kitchen Quest Flotsam. In the Marketplace, shop owners put up posters for help with Light Faerie quests, the Brain Tree Quest, and... the Kitchen Quest. Boring! I don't know about you, but personally, I would hate to have that name shouted to me by a friend from across the street with the chance that other people might hear it. I would cringe in embarrassment and run home crying. This noble Flotsam is too strong for that, but how do we know if possibly every night before going to bed, he gazes out his window and wishes upon a star for something as simple as a decent name?

We might even go as far as to mention the Space Faerie, the Soup Faerie, and the Water Faerie at the Healing Springs. Fyora, Illusen, Jhudora, and Taelia the Snow Faerie all have names, and none of them so tirelessly and graciously help poor little Neopets every day like the nameless ones do, may it be guarding the Space Station from certain destruction and doom, cooking an endless cauldron of soup for pets unable to buy their own without leaving any for herself, or using all her magic to cure thousands of pets of illness and injury every half an hour. Now, don't you feel ashamed of yourself? There are plushies and stories and even holidays for the named faeries, but the nameless ones remain in the shadows, forgotten by the textbooks. Go ahead and argue with me about this, but I don't see why Jhuidah the Island Faerie on Mystery Island should have a name, while the Space Faerie, Soup Faerie, and Healing Springs Faerie don't.

I don't know about all you people out there reading this article right now, but every now and then I take a few seconds out of my day to sit and appreciate these hard-working, nameless workers of Neopia, hoping that some day they may wake up in the morning and suddenly know who they are. After all, without a name, how can you possibly fare well in life? Maybe if everyone had something to be called by, the world would be a nicer, less confusing place, loving and welcoming every person and creature into it with equality and kindness.

Or maybe it would stay the same, but it's a good thought to end this article on.