When Mystery Boxes Stop Being Fun: My Experience With Steve Aoki’s Comic Debut

I don’t love writing posts like this. Comics, collecting, live shows, the community—we’re supposed to be having fun. But sometimes something happens that gnaws at you long enough that staying silent feels worse than speaking up. This is one of those times.

Recently, the comic world saw something unexpected and honestly pretty exciting: world-famous DJ Steve Aoki stepping into the comic niche. CGC posted reels featuring him holding major key books, and the vibe was positive—energetic, fun, and fan-forward. Aoki has a well-earned reputation for being good to his fans, so when I got a Whatnot notification that he was going live selling mystery boxes, I jumped in with genuine enthusiasm.

And the hype was big.

On stream, Steve and his co-host (also named Steve) showed off massive keys they said were going into the boxes: Daredevil #1, Amazing Spider-Man #300… books any collector would love to chase. He handled everything with charisma and excitement, and it really felt like the type of event where you overpay a bit for the thrill but know the boxes are built with intention and care.

Then came the part that stung.

Steve grabbed a CGC 9.8 X-Men #1 (1990) Jim Lee)—roughly a $75 book—and announced that the winner of the first mystery box would get that slab on top of the 10 comics inside. It felt like the first box was being positioned as a special one. That’s why I decided to go for it.

The bidding started, and I won the first box for $630, which after taxes, fees, and shipping came out to $687.15.

And then Steve started pulling out the comics inside.

One after another… after another… until all 10 were shown. My heart sank. Not a single meaningful book. Not even mid-grade nostalgia pieces. Just a handful of extremely low-value titles—books that aren’t even filler material for most mystery boxes.

Here is the exact list of the comics I received:

• Beetle Bailey #20 (Dell, Apr 1, 1959)

• Spike and Tyke #10 (Dell, Jun 10, 1957)

• Spike and Tyke #4 (Dell, Dec 10, 1955)

• Mickey Mouse #72 (Dell, Jun 1, 1960)

• Mickey Mouse #66 (Dell, Jun 1, 1959)

• Looney Tunes #225 (Dell, Jul 10, 1960)

• Fightin' Air Force #31 (Charlton, Mar 10, 1962)

• Walter Lantz Andy Panda #40 (Dell, Nov 1, 1957)

• Looney Tunes and Merrie Melodies #148 (Dell, Feb 1, 1954)

• Looney Tunes #186 (Dell, Apr 1, 1957)

Vintage? Yes. Valuable? No. None of these books are remotely close to the level of hype presented before the auction. This wasn’t just “not a hit”—this was ten complete misses. About $20-$30 worth of books total, and that’s being generous. These are books I would have in my dollar bins. 

A fella who had watched the show messaged me on my website and this is what he had to say:

I appraise books using eBay Sold listings, a covrprice subscription, and my years of experience in the business. I asked people for their perceived value, as a social experiment, in case I was missing something. I gave no context, just asked them to chime in with value. This is what they said:

Steve offered to sign one of the books in the box and asked me which one I wanted. I told him to let the chat decide. Steve grabbed a random Looney Tunes issue with Bugs Bunny on the cover and signed it himself. It only emphasized how disconnected the box felt from the level of excitement and key books he’d been showcasing earlier in the stream.

Collectors in the chat noticed instantly. After that first box, none of the remaining boxes broke $200.

If this were simply a bad roll of the dice, I could live with that. Mystery boxes are games of chance. Not every box is going to win. But no mystery box should ever be worthless, especially when the host is showcasing high-end keys and building anticipation in a way that implies every box has meaningful value.

As both a retailer and a collector, that’s the part that didn’t sit right.

So I reached out privately. I wrote Steve a respectful message explaining how the experience made me feel—no accusations, no insults, just honesty. I told him I felt sick about the purchase, that it didn’t align with how mystery boxes should be built, and that it left me feeling swindled rather than entertained.

As of today, the message remains unread or simply ignored.

And that… honestly breaks my heart a little.

I wasn’t demanding a refund—just hoping for acknowledgment or any sign that someone cared about making the situation right. But silence can say a lot.

I want to be clear: I still think it’s cool when influencers, artists, musicians, or creators from outside the comic world join our hobby. Cross-pollination brings new collectors, new energy, new excitement. But when someone with a massive platform steps into a niche community like comics, there’s a responsibility to respect the people who keep this industry alive—both emotionally and financially.

Mystery boxes should be fun. They should have hits and misses, sure—but no one should walk away feeling genuinely taken advantage of.

I hope Steve or his team eventually addresses this. Not because I want anything back, but because I’d hate to see other collectors—especially newer ones—feel the same sense of disappointment and betrayal.

Comics are supposed to bring us joy. This experience did the opposite.

And that’s why I’m sharing it.