Changing value is easy. Making profit is different.
In a quiet corner of Greenwich, a man named Jamie Moakes has spent fifteen years and thousands of pounds asking one of philosophy's oldest questions through an unlikely medium: a minor plastic toy from a 1980s cartoon. Inspired by the financial crisis and the arbitrary nature of gold's worth, Moakes set out to prove that value is not discovered but invented — and chose Ram Man, a forgotten He-Man character, as his instrument. His experiment sits at the intersection of performance art, market theory, and stubborn human belief, reminding us that the distance between a worthless object and a precious one is often nothing more than collective agreement.
- A man has spent fifteen years and thousands of pounds hoarding nearly 300 copies of the same obscure 1980s action figure, betting that artificial scarcity can manufacture real value.
- The scheme began as a Fringe Festival provocation — live auctions where audiences set the price — but quietly became a genuine, continent-spanning market manipulation attempt.
- An economist warned him over a pint not to spend too much money on this, and the fundamental math remains brutal: an estimated two million Ram Man figures were produced, making a monopoly nearly impossible.
- Moakes refuses to reveal current resale prices, fearing it would 'anchor' the market and collapse his long game before it has a chance to pay off.
- His best remaining hope is a new He-Man film driving collector demand — and the quiet satisfaction of someone searching everywhere for a Ram Man, not knowing one man in Greenwich has most of them.
Jamie Moakes lives in Greenwich surrounded by nearly three hundred identical plastic figures of Ram Man, a minor and largely forgotten character from the 1980s cartoon He-Man and the Masters of the Universe. He has been at this for fifteen years. Some figures cost him twenty pence; one cost eight hundred pounds. He found them in British markets, Chicago shops, Parisian flea stalls, and even on his honeymoon. He is 42 now, and he is not a collector in any ordinary sense — he is running an experiment in the nature of value itself.
The idea arrived in 2011, during the financial crisis, when television advertisements urged people to sell their gold for cash. Moakes found himself asking who had decided gold was valuable in the first place. His answer: nobody and everybody — value is not inherent, it is agreed upon. So he chose Ram Man, a character he notes is mocked in the show for being unable to do anything but ram things, as his test subject. Make something rare enough, he reasoned, and people might decide it matters.
He debuted the scheme at the Edinburgh Fringe that same year, presenting slideshow arguments for Ram Man's worth before auctioning a figure to let the audience set its price. The performances drew attention and launched his systematic accumulation. He consulted Prof Eric Smith, an economist at the University of Essex, who met him in a pub, found the whole thing amusing, and offered one piece of advice: don't spend too much money on this.
The core problem has never gone away. Mattel has never disclosed production numbers, but estimates place around two million Ram Man figures in the world. Moakes' three hundred represent a vanishingly small fraction — nowhere near enough to corner a market. What he attempted was a monopoly strategy, and monopolies require actual scarcity to function.
Still, he plays the long game. He won't say what his figures currently sell for, worried that any public number would anchor expectations and undermine years of careful positioning. His remaining hope is the new He-Man film, which he believes could reignite collector interest and send people searching for Ram Man — only to find the shelves mysteriously bare. 'I love the idea of someone going to finish their He-Man collection, only to find they can't find a Ram Man anywhere,' he says. Whether fifteen years of accumulation will ever be vindicated remains, like value itself, entirely undecided.
Jamie Moakes sits in his home in Greenwich, south-east London, surrounded by nearly three hundred plastic action figures of Ram Man, a minor character from the 1980s cartoon He-Man and the Masters of the Universe. He has been collecting them for fifteen years. The figures cost him anywhere from twenty pence to eight hundred pounds each, purchased from shops and markets across Britain and as far away as Chicago and Paris—he even acquired one during his honeymoon. By any conventional measure, this is an unusual way to spend thousands of pounds. But Moakes, now 42, is not collecting for nostalgia. He is conducting what he calls an experiment in value itself.
The idea came to him in 2011, during the financial crisis, when television advertisements urged people to sell their gold for cash. Moakes watched this happen and asked himself a simple question: who decided gold was valuable in the first place? The answer, he concluded, was that value is not inherent—it is decided. So he chose Ram Man, a character he describes as bullied in the show because he cannot move and only rams things, as his test subject. If he could make Ram Man rare enough, he reasoned, people might decide it was worth money. The logic was tongue-in-cheek, but also not quite.
His opportunity came that same year when he secured a performance slot at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. Each night, he would present a slideshow attempting to convince the audience that Ram Man was worth money, then auction off a figure to let the crowd determine its price. The performances drew attention, and Moakes began his systematic accumulation. He is a tile seller by trade, but his real work became the pursuit of Ram Man figures across continents.
When the BBC reconnected with him in 2026, ahead of a new He-Man film, Moakes reflected on what he had learned. "Changing the value of something is easy," he said. "Making profit out of it is a different thing." He had consulted with Prof Eric Smith, an economist at the University of Essex, who met him in a pub and was amused by the scheme. Smith's advice was blunt: don't spend too much money on this. But Moakes remained convinced that if circumstances had aligned differently, Ram Man could have become what Bitcoin became—a thing people decided had value, and then it did.
There is a fundamental problem with his strategy, however. Mattel, the toy's manufacturer, has never disclosed how many Ram Man figures were produced, but estimates suggest approximately two million entered the world. Moakes' collection of three hundred represents a fraction so small that cornering the market becomes nearly impossible. An economist would call what he attempted a monopoly strategy—if you control access to a resource, you control its price. But you cannot control what does not exist in limited supply.
Still, Moakes refuses to disclose what his figures are currently selling for, saying the number would "anchor the price" and undermine his long game. He holds out hope that the new He-Man film will spark renewed interest in the character, driving collectors to seek out Ram Man figures and discover that they are difficult to find—mostly because he has them. "I love the idea of someone going to finish their He-Man collection, only to find they can't find a Ram Man anywhere," he says. Whether that moment comes, and whether it will vindicate fifteen years of accumulation, remains to be seen.
Notable Quotes
It's quite a clever experiment to do, but as an economist I did think, good luck.— Prof Eric Smith, University of Essex
To me, it's not about the money, it's about convincing people to look at value differently.— Jamie Moakes
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
What made you think an action figure could actually become currency?
I wasn't thinking currency literally. I was thinking about how value gets decided. Gold isn't inherently worth more than plastic—we just agreed it was. I wanted to test whether people could agree on Ram Man the same way.
But you must have known two million of these things were made. How does that work with your plan?
I did know, eventually. That's the hard part. You can't create scarcity when scarcity doesn't exist. But I thought if I could get enough of them off the market, into my hands, maybe the ones still out there would matter more.
Did you ever actually make money?
I won't say what they're selling for now. But that's not really the point. The point was proving the concept works—that you can shift how people think about value.
An economist told you not to spend too much money on this. Did that sting?
No, it made sense. He was right. But I wasn't trying to be rational. I was trying to prove something about how the world works.
Do you think the new He-Man film changes anything?
It could. If people suddenly want to complete their collections and can't find Ram Man, then the scarcity becomes real, not manufactured. That's when the experiment actually works.