US users of ReelShort — the most popular microdrama platform — now spend an average of 35.7 minutes a day on the app, according to Omdia and Sensor Tower, which isn’t far off the 47 minutes that US users spend scrolling TikTok. Obviously TikTok has far more users, but it’s still a noteworthy achievement for a format that barely existed in the West a year ago.
Microdramas are expanding into new genres, too. What began as a steady stream of low-budget romance serials now includes action, comedies and thrillers. My Drama’s male monthly active user base has grown from 1.1% to 30.3% of its total audience in just seven quarters.
On the surface, it looks like the hype about this novel format is justified. What makes microdramas especially compelling is that they compete with the scroll, not the stream. After years of social media rewarding short, disposable content, the prospect of audiences choosing to spend their in-between moments with original, scripted storytelling is a refreshing one.
But while there is some evidence that microdramas have gained traction with audiences, there is little to show that this format will present a significant opportunity for brands.
For a start, the business models of microdrama platforms have more in common with mobile gaming than streaming television or social media. They spend aggressively on TikTok and Meta ads to acquire users, then recoup those costs through subscriptions or in-app purchases of tokens, with which they can buy more episodes. Like in mobile gaming, a relatively small number of ‘whales’ account for a disproportionate share of microdrama revenues, effectively subsidising everyone else watching for free.
But even if a microdrama platform were to alight on a more ad-friendly model, there is a more fundamental problem — a traditional 15-second ad eats up a quarter of a two-minute episode, making conventional ad loads hard to justify. Spending several dollars to acquire a user through social media ads, only to earn pennies back through programmatic advertising, simply doesn’t make financial sense.
Without an obvious advertising route, some brands are trying their hand as creators of microdramas. Nivea Malaysia, for example, launched a four-part Raya mini-drama across Facebook and Instagram Reels, exploring family expectations and self-confidence, weaving its products subtly into the story. The campaign generated around 1.57 million views and more than 550,000 engagements, outperforming the brand’s usual engagement benchmarks.
Others have gone much bigger. In China, KFC integrated its weekend meal deals into the plot of Rebirth of the Foodie Queen, a 13-episode time-travel comedy on Douyin that generated 1.4 billion views. Skincare brand Kans partnered with influencers on five microdramas that reportedly generated more than 50 billion views and over 3.3 billion yuan in sales.
This isn’t a new proposition. Brands have been creating entertainment to sell products since soap manufacturers sponsored daytime dramas nearly a century ago. Branded entertainment has enjoyed sporadic success since, but it hasn’t become a mainstream advertising strategy because producing genuinely compelling content is expensive, creatively demanding and difficult to scale. There’s little reason to think that those dynamics will suddenly change, even if microdramas do grow more popular.
And it’s no guarantee they will. Media analyst Simon Owens calls microdramas ‘inherently spammy,’ and argues that a genre optimised for cheapness is unlikely to build any lasting cultural footprint. It’s a fair challenge to the growth narrative. Rapid user acquisition and genuine cultural relevance are not the same thing, and plenty of formats have posted impressive early numbers without ever escaping their niche.
Overall, the format leaves advertisers in an awkward spot. The same economics that make microdramas viable as a form of entertainment also leave little room for traditional advertising. Microdramas look less like the next chapter of streaming than an intriguing offshoot of the attention economy. One worth watching, but perhaps not quite believing in.
