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Bricking Bad: How LEGO is Failing the MOC Masters Who Keep Them Alive

Cover Image for Bricking Bad: How LEGO is Failing the MOC Masters Who Keep Them Alive
Bilal Raja
Bilal Raja

Let’s talk about LEGO. That colorful, plastic, foot-destroying empire built on the backs of creative minds. The same company that owes its longevity not just to overpriced Millennium Falcons but to the MOCers (My Own Creation builders)—the mad geniuses who turn bricks into breathtaking art.

And yet, LEGO treats these builders like a stepchild who only gets socks for Christmas. "Here’s a 1x1 tile, kid. Now go play in traffic."

1. LEGO’s "Support" for MOCers is Like a Hot Dog Stand at a Vegan Convention

LEGO loves to say they support MOCers. They’ll point to LEGO Ideas—a system where if you gather 10,000 signatures, endure a corporate gauntlet, and sacrifice your firstborn, maybe your design becomes a set. Congrats! You get 1% royalties and a firm handshake.

Meanwhile, MOCers are out here creating entire functioning cities, life-sized Batman suits, and sculptures that belong in museums—while LEGO’s official stance is: "Cool story, bro. Buy more $800 UCS sets, yeah?"

2. LEGO’s Pick-a-Brick System is a Digital Dumpster Fire

Want to buy specific parts for your MOC? Good luck. LEGO’s Pick-a-Brick service moves slower than a sloth on Ambien. Need a single 2x3 dark red slope? Out of stock since the Mesozoic Era. Meanwhile, Bricklink (which LEGO now owns, by the way) is the real MVP, but even that feels like LEGO adopted a stray dog just to keep it in the backyard.

And don’t get me started on LEGO’s pricing. Buying individual pieces feels like negotiating with a Bond villain. "Ah, Mr. Builder, you want tan cheese slopes? That’ll be your soul and a kidney."

3. LEGO’s Instructions are Locked Up Like the Coca-Cola Recipe

MOCers share instructions online because community is everything. But LEGO? They treat building techniques like classified government intel.

  • MOCer: "Here’s a free PDF for my Star Destroyer!"

  • LEGO: "Cease and desist. Also, here’s another $500 Darth Vader helmet."

Remember LEGO Digital Designer (LDD)? The software LEGO abandoned faster than a sinking pirate ship? Fans had to resurrect it themselves because LEGO’s replacement, Bricklink Studio, is like giving us a bike after taking away our Ferrari.

4. LEGO’s "Adult Fan" Sets are Just Expensive Flexes

LEGO finally noticed adults like bricks too. Great! But their idea of "support" is slapping 18+ on a box and charging $400 for a typewriter that doesn’t even type.

Meanwhile, MOCers are out here:

  • Building working pinball machines

  • Recreating entire Lord of the Rings battles

  • Making functional LEGO cars

And LEGO’s response? "Here’s a $200 set of a flower bouquet. You’re welcome."

5. LEGO’s Fear of the Dark (Side of Creativity)

LEGO is terrified of anything unofficial. Custom minifigs? "Illegal builds!" (Even though their own designers bend rules all the time.) Third-party lighting kits? "Blasphemy!" Meanwhile, MOCers are keeping the brand alive by doing what LEGO won’t—innovating.

How LEGO Could Fix This (But Probably Won’t)

  • Actually sell parts in bulk without requiring a second mortgage.

  • Embrace the MOC community instead of treating them like bootleggers.

  • Release official instructions for techniques instead of hoarding them like Smaug on a pile of 1x1 studs.

  • Give MOCers real royalties when their Ideas get turned into sets.

Final Verdict: LEGO, You’re Better Than This

LEGO, we love you. But right now, your support for MOCers is like giving someone a single brick and calling it a house. The MOC community is the lifeblood of your brand—time to start acting like it.

Or, you know, keep pretending. We’ll just keep Bricking our way to greatness without you.