Secrets of Bagatelle, a Mootix’s Confessions

A little less than a month ago, I was a poor Mootix, living in the in the Haunted Woods. Fending for myself, I lived off scraps of food from the local Food shop, and slept just outside the Deserted Fairgrounds gate. One morning, while rummaging through some spoiled goods the Food Shopkeeper had given me, I was approached by a scruffy looking Lupe. He promised me food and a place to live and some extra Neopoints in return for my assistance at his stand in the Fairgrounds. My Mootix instincts told me I was better off fending for myself, but my curiosity got the better of me. Anything had to be better then this, right?

He told my stories of the millions of Neopoints there were to be made off "Deserted Fairground tourists" who pass through the gates everyday. He told me he was opening up a game stand where Neopians of all ages would gather to try their hand at winning a huge jackpot. I listened cautiously, as I’d heard stories of live beyond the iron gates of the Fairgrounds. I heard the shady Neopians who lived there were not to be trusted, and they mostly kept to themselves, but this Lupe seemed like a savvy businessmen and I was in need of some extra Neopoints so I reluctantly agreed.

Now, one month later, I know the ways of the Deserted Fairgrounds. I see all that goes on from my Bagatelle stand with the Lupe, though hardly anyone ever notices me. Everyday I see tons of unsuspecting Neopians come through the Fairgrounds looking for some fun. The spin the Wheel of Misfortune and play the Scratch Cards. They eat at the Spooky Foods shop and browse the Haunted Weaponry goods. They look warily at the Coconut Shy stand, and gather for a photo op at the Deserted Fairground mountain. But when they come to my stand, they are always intrigued.

The game seems simple enough. Drop the poor, little Mootix down the board and watch as he knocks his way down the pegs into the holes. Depending on where I land, they may (or may not) win a prize. The Lupe charges 250 NPs a play. A steep price if you ask me, but I have seem some win millions! When they win, they holler and hoot, and dance all about - but, do they ever thank the Mootix? No . . . but maybe they should.

Since I came to the Fairgrounds on that fateful day, I’ve seen the way these secretive Neopians live. They steal and squander their Neopoints, ready to take advantage of any unsuspecting Neopians. The shop owners are shady, telling you anything to make a sale. The inhabitants are ghastly creatures, emerging only at night to pilfer what they can. But the worst of them all, is my boss, the Lupe.

Every night before, just after he closes his stand, he adjusts pegs on the board. Every night he oils them on the sides to make them slippery, almost guaranteeing I can’t be knocked over to the “winning” side of the board. Then, every morning, he reminds me “Stay on your side, Mootix!”. Encouraging me to lean my way to the “losing” side of the board. And if I don’t? Then I can kiss my daily meal of Mouldy Cheesy and Pickled Eyeballs goodbye.

Sure, many times Neopians toss me in such a way I land somewhere in the center, winning then 5,000 or even 25,000 Neopoints – but it’s rare. Most Neopians walk away cleaned out of their hard-earned Neopoints. So what keeps these eager Neopians coming back, you rightly ask? Simple. Because, not often, but just a few times, a lucky Neopian has struck it rich. Every now and then, a Neopian will drop me down in such a manner that makes me roll to the “winning” side, and they win the jackpot! The last winner at my stand won 8,000,000 Neopoints. But is it all luck? Or is there something more?

For the first few weeks of our stands operation, I saw Neopians clean out their wallets and selling their favorite Usuki Dolls for this game, hoping to strike it rich, but no one ever did. And they would keep playing late into the night, hoping for one lucky drop. Finally, I had to intervene. It wasn’t fair that the Lupe wasn’t letting anyone win, so every once in a while, I would see to it that a deserving Neopian would come across a “lucky” drop. I would feel sorry for some poor Neopian spending his last Neopoint and winning nothing, so I would wobble myself towards the "winning" side to score them a few thousand Neopoints.

But, soon enough, the Lupe caught on. He wouldn’t have me helping any Neopian simply because their “luck ran out”, so he limited the number of plays per day. He would let no Neopian roll more then 20 times a day, and after all, he wasn’t hurting for customers. And though I’m kept under tight watch by my boss, every now and then I can’t be blamed if a “lucky” Neopian gets in a good drop and wins millions, can I?

So the next time you visit my humble little stand, if you happen to find yourself walking away with a few extra Neopoints, please be sure to show gratitude to a certain little needy Mootix, and toss a Pumpkin Cookie crumb my way, will ya? You never know when your kindness might be rewarded.