With the recent announcement of Modhaus’ new group, IDNTT, and the continued innovative rollout of TripleS, I’ve found myself revisiting a lot of my frustration with SM Entertainment and their failure to truly commit to making the NCT concept work. It’s jarring to watch smaller companies successfully execute the very modular, fluid system that NCT originally pioneered—only for SM to abandon it due to poor management and short-sighted decisions. I can’t help but wonder what could have been if SM had just done things right from the start. When SM Entertainment introduced NCT (Neo Culture Technology) in 2016, it was one of the most ambitious concepts K-pop had ever seen. A group with no fixed size, no set lineup, and an ever-expanding universe of sub-units. Members could be added indefinitely and rotated between units based on concept, nationality, skill, or genre. It was a modular system, more like a network than a group, designed to grow with the industry and push creative boundaries. For fans, it felt like the future of K-pop. The group launched with a strong start. NCT 127 represented Seoul, blending hip-hop and urban pop. NCT Dream followed with a youthful, coming-of-age concept centered around a graduation system. WayV was created as the Chinese unit, and NCT U was a flexible, rotational group that changed its lineup based on the song or performance. It was a fascinating structure, offering something new every time while tying everything back into the larger NCT identity. On paper, this was genius. But in reality, SM never fully committed to the system it created. One of the biggest promises of NCT was that all members would have equal opportunity through rotation. Anyone could shine depending on the unit or project. But SM quickly began favoring a small group of members, mostly Taeyong, Mark, Haechan, Jaehyun, and Ten. These few idols appeared in nearly every major comeback, collaboration, and special project. Meanwhile, dozens of other members were left waiting. Some, like Kun or Hendery, went years with minimal promotion. Others, like Jungwoo or Yuta, were visibly underused despite strong fan support. NCT U, which was meant to be the most flexible and experimental unit, quietly turned into another way to highlight the same few members. The rotation system stopped rotating. At the same time, SM dismantled some of the most unique parts of the structure. NCT Dream was built around a graduation concept. As members aged out, they would leave the unit, making way for new, younger trainees. It was a powerful idea. It gave the group a narrative and emotional weight. Fans watched the members grow up, celebrated their “graduation,” and looked forward to meeting the next generation. But in 2020, the system was scrapped entirely. Mark was re-added to the lineup, and Dream became a fixed seven-member group. The concept that made them special was gone, replaced by a conventional boy band format. It was easier to market, but the creative core was lost. Perhaps the biggest turning point in the downfall of NCT’s original vision was the debut of SuperM in 2019. This supergroup was formed with members from SHINee, EXO, and NCT, including Taeyong, Mark, Ten, and Lucas. It was promoted as the “Avengers of K-pop,” aimed at the U.S. market. It worked. SuperM did well internationally, especially on Billboard. But its success came at a cost. Rather than using NCT’s system to highlight emerging talent or expand the group’s universe, SM extracted the most marketable members and placed them in a completely separate group with no connection to NCT’s concept. SuperM existed purely to generate fast profit. It was a turning point where it became clear that commercial gain had taken precedence over creative integrity. Even the small opportunities to build cohesion were abandoned. When WayV debuted with a Chinese version of “Regular,” fans saw potential for a recurring motif. NCT 127 had promoted the song in Korean and English, and now WayV had their own version. It could have been a symbolic thread tying the different units together, showcasing cultural variation within a shared musical identity. But that idea was never revisited. No follow-up. No narrative. No continuity. Just another missed opportunity in a system that no longer cared about connection. Then came one of the biggest betrayals in the NCT timeline. In 2020, SM introduced Shotaro and Sungchan as new members of NCT, with the promise that they would eventually join fixed units. They were promoted heavily through music show MC gigs, NCT U activities, and a show titled “Welcome to NCT Universe.” This show introduced trainees believed to be part of the upcoming Japanese unit, NCT Tokyo. Fans followed along, hoping to see the next stage of NCT’s expansion. But in 2023, SM quietly removed Shotaro and Sungchan from NCT entirely and placed them in a new group called RIIZE. No explanation. No farewell. The survival show was rendered meaningless. It was a gut punch to fans who had been emotionally invested in their journey. It proved that SM’s system was never built to last. It was disposable, and members could be moved around like pieces on a board without closure or consideration. And then there’s WinWin. Once an integral part of both NCT 127 and WayV, he slowly disappeared from promotions with no public acknowledgment. He hasn’t been in NCT projects for years, and there’s been no official word on whether he’s still part of the group. Occasionally, he appears in solo work in China, but from SM’s side, there’s only silence. WinWin’s disappearance is a painful reminder that even core members are not guaranteed protection or transparency. He was part of the foundation, and yet he was quietly erased from the narrative. So what is NCT today? It’s no longer a limitless group. 127 and Dream are fixed units. WayV is active but disconnected. NCT U is barely used. NCT Tokyo was rebranded into a rookie group called NCT WISH, with almost no ties to the original members. And the idea of expansion is officially over. SM has shifted its focus to solo releases, fan meetings, and tours for the most profitable members, while everyone else waits without updates. The rotation system is gone. The modularity is gone. The vision is gone. NCT had the potential to be a historic achievement in K-pop. It could have grown into an expansive universe with evolving narratives, equitable opportunities, and long-term emotional investment for fans. But instead, it became a brand name. The few members who sell well are pushed to the front, and the rest are left behind. SM took one of the boldest ideas in idol history and abandoned it before it could reach its peak. The downfall of NCT wasn’t inevitable. It happened because SM lost faith in its own creation. The concept wasn’t flawed. The execution was. They sold fans a dream of evolution, flexibility, and limitless growth. Then they chose what was easy, safe, and profitable. What was once the future of K-pop ended up as just another chapter in its past. Not because it failed, but because it was never truly given the chance to succeed. submitted by /u/Illustrious-Cut-1901 [link] [comments]
