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Once upon a time (read: a few years ago), there were a pair of upstart streaming services called Quibi and Go90 that were supposed to appeal to phone-addicted millennials. These platforms were supposed to compete with Netflix and Amazon by offering up short-form videos designed to be watched on the go. Both services were touted as being the future of entertainment, and they had sizable financial backing. But neither Quibi nor Go90 managed to gain any real traction before their names became shorthand for “bad ideas exemplifying how out of touch studio and telecom execs can be.”

Quibi and Go90 were not long for this world, and much has been written about how they were doomed from the jump. Quibi was oddly expensive, Go90’s landscape mode-focused branding confused people, and neither service made it easy to share their content on other platforms. Back then, people — especially here in the West — laughed at the idea of watching scripted series that were meant to be viewed on a smartphone. But that same basic concept began to take off in China as the covid-19 pandemic ground the entertainment industry to a halt and forced movie theaters to close. Some were supernatural period dramas, while others were romantically charged thrillers set in the modern day. And their stories were all filled with wild twists that played out over the course of dozens of episodes.

In 2025, “micro drama” companies like DramaBox and ReelShort have demonstrated that there actually is an audience willing to pay for content that can be consumed in small, quick bites. And the recent micro drama boom has been a fascinating case study in old, failed ideas finding wild success in the present day because the way people think about and interact with media has changed.

When you open up any of the dedicated micro drama apps, you can see that the companies behind them took notes from social media platforms like TikTok and streaming services like Netflix in order to create a new, slop-filled third kind of thing. You’re immediately presented with a grid of posters for multipart series whose “episodes” each run for about two minutes max. And the titles — gems like I Kissed a CEO and He Liked It, Betrayed Alpha Queen Rises from the Ashes, and The Unwanted Wife Strikes Back — are as self-explanatory as they are ridiculous. Almost all of the shows involve elements of pulpy romance and women getting revenge after being scorned for not embodying the “right kind” of womanhood or femininity.

Many of the series frame fertility, motherhood, and werewolf / Omegaverse culture as the things that define their heroines’ sense of self. And while these female characters are often introduced as people who are able to fend for themselves independently, their main goal is usually to find a man who can sweep them off their feet and take care of all their worldly needs.

Micro dramas’ overwhelming focus on stories about downtrodden damsels in distress speaks to the fact that female viewers make up a substantial chunk of these platforms’ subscriber base. On some level, these series are tapping into the same kind of tawdry energy that kept the romance lit space humming along even as the larger publishing industry has seen a steady drop in sales. But unlike romance novels from traditional publishing houses with rigorous editorial processes, there’s a slapdash shoddiness to micro dramas’ production values that reflects how incredibly inexpensive they are to make compared to a Netflix or Hulu original.

Though you would be hard-pressed to find a micro drama that felt like a strong piece of storytelling, there’s no denying that people are paying to watch them at a time when traditional streamers have been struggling to draw in new subscribers. Are series like Carrying His Triplets, Becoming His Wifey, and Found a Homeless Billionaire Husband for Christmas destined to become mainstream pop cultural phenomenons? Probably not. But these kinds of projects are keeping people employed and making enough of a profit to justify their existence.

By launching a new kind of labor contract designed to address “the unique needs” of actors working on serialized micro dramas, like ensuring they’re paid a fair wage and earn screen credits for their labor, SAG-AFTRA has sent a signal to the rest of the entertainment industry about this kind of content’s future potential. These shows might not be particularly good right now, but that could change if the studios put more effort into producing them. And even if micro dramas were to stick to their current style of stilted acting / lackluster directing / weak writing, their success right now suggests that their subscribers might not really be interested in something “better.”

As different segments of the tech and entertainment industries vie for people’s attention, micro dramas feel like an unusually strong contender. Micro dramas don’t quite add up to streaming series in the way we typically think of them, and they don’t exactly scratch the same “look watch some randos do stuff” itch that TikTok is built for. Ironically, ReelShort and DramaBox’s success feels like a direct byproduct of the way that TikTok, Instagram, and YouTube have gotten people into the habit of endlessly scrolling through vertically shot video. But these micro dramas are their own weird thing that have carved out a unique niche and found a ravenous audience in the process. And if these new platforms can keep their upward momentum going, it wouldn’t be at all surprising to see their streaming and social media competitors rushing to make the similar content of their own.