NFT stands for “Non-Fungible Token,” a term that most people didn’t understand but repeated anyway, because it sounded futuristic and full of potential. The idea? You could own a unique piece of digital content—an image, a song, a video—secured by blockchain technology. It was like Bitcoin meets art. Or at least, that was the sales pitch.
But what did “owning” a digital item even mean? You couldn’t touch it, hang it on your wall, or keep it in a safe. You owned a code—a digital certificate saying you owned something unique. Sometimes it was a pixelated face, sometimes a virtual sneaker, and sometimes… a cartoon monkey.
Enter: The Bored Apes
In the chaos of the NFT gold rush, one project in particular became the crown jewel of the movement: the Bored Ape Yacht Club (BAYC).
A series of algorithm-generated cartoon apes with different outfits, expressions, and accessories, BAYC was marketed as much more than just “art.” It was a status symbol, a ticket to a private club, and a passport to future wealth. Buyers were promised exclusive access (to what? who knows), VIP events (never saw one), metaverse integration (still nonexistent), and the holy grail of speculative investing: the chance to “flip” your ape for double, triple, or even ten times the price.
People bought in. And they bought in big. Some apes sold for over $1.5 million in 2021. Celebrities jumped on board. Snoop Dogg, Paris Hilton, Eminem, Jimmy Fallon—they all flaunted their apes as if they were holding the next Mona Lisa. The media joined the frenzy, calling NFTs the future of art, ownership, and even the internet itself.
The Digital Gold Rush
It wasn’t just BAYC. The NFT mania spread like wildfire. Digital art marketplaces like OpenSea saw billions in trading volume. Projects like CryptoPunks, World of Women, and Cool Cats soared in value. Artists who had never sold a painting in real life suddenly became overnight millionaires by minting JPEGs.
And for a while, it all made sense—at least on the surface. In a world that was locked down and physically disconnected, the digital space became everything. We worked online, dated online, and spent our free time in virtual spaces. Why not collect art online too?
But beneath the surface, the cracks were forming.
The Collapse
Fast forward to today. The floor price of a Bored Ape—the minimum price you can buy one for—has collapsed by more than 90% from its 2021 peak. That once-legendary $1.5 million ape? Now worth around $25,000.
Yes, $25,000. Still a significant sum, but a dramatic fall from grace. From the price of a luxury penthouse to the price of a mid-range used car.
Some rare apes still sell for higher figures, but the overall market sentiment has shifted drastically. NFT projects that once promised community, utility, and exclusivity have delivered little more than disappointment. The grand metaverses never arrived. The promised events turned out to be either nonexistent or wildly underwhelming. And most importantly, the dream of flipping for profit? Gone.
As the market corrected itself, reality came crashing down: many of these NFTs had no intrinsic value. They were speculative assets built on hype, not fundamentals. And when the music stopped, most people were left holding… well, a low-resolution .JPEG.
A Case Study in FOMO
What really drove the NFT boom wasn’t art, or technology, or even belief in the future. It was FOMO—Fear of Missing Out.
People didn’t want to be the last ones in. They saw their friends making quick money and wanted a piece of the action. It was a psychological gold rush, powered by hype, media, influencers, and Discord channels full of rocket emojis and promises of “going to the moon.”
In hindsight, it’s easy to laugh. But for many, the losses were real. Some people poured their savings into NFT collections that are now practically worthless. Others bought into projects that vanished overnight, taking the money and leaving only empty Twitter accounts behind.
It’s not just a story of digital apes and overpriced pixels—it’s a lesson in how easily mass psychology can override reason.
What’s Left Now?
So, what remains of the NFT craze today?
Mostly, digital ghosts: abandoned Discords, silent Twitter pages, and JPEGs no one wants to buy. Some artists still believe in the potential of NFTs as a way to track provenance and ensure royalties. There are ongoing discussions about using NFT tech in gaming, ticketing, or intellectual property. But the speculative frenzy? It’s over.
What’s left is a lesson that’s worth more than any digital token: never invest in something you don’t understand just because everyone else is doing it.
The Bigger Picture
It would be too easy to write off the entire NFT movement as a scam or a joke. Blockchain technology, after all, is not going away. The concept of digital ownership and decentralized platforms still holds potential. But the NFT boom of 2021–2022 was not about building the future. It was about cashing in on a trend.
It also revealed how desperate people can be for status, identity, and belonging—especially when offered in an exclusive package. The Bored Apes weren’t just pictures; they were digital VIP passes in a world that was increasingly moving online.
In the end, the NFT story is a perfect snapshot of our time: a mix of innovation and illusion, community and manipulation, hope and hubris.
Final Thoughts
Maybe you didn’t buy a Bored Ape. Maybe you never touched an NFT. But the lesson is universal: when something seems too good to be true—and everyone’s shouting about how rich it will make you—pause. Research. Ask questions.
And remember: the only thing rarer than a profitable NFT these days… is a free lunch.
