The Controversial Preliminaries
"It's not a full live broadcast, obviously. The main episodes will be pre-recorded, but the preliminary performances themselves are done live in front of an audience."
Of course, Myeongjeon thought. Who the hell would run the prelims as a complete live show? If there were 50 teams, even at 10 minutes per performance plus 5 minutes setup on both ends—that's 20 minutes each, totaling 1,000 minutes. That's basically the runtime of a full regular episode.
"But even doing it live in front of an audience seems impossible. There are just so many bands..."
"That's why I'm not the PD—I wouldn't know. But it is definitely live."
After a bit more chit-chat, Park Hwiseok wrapped up the call with some encouraging words. Myeongjeon stared at the ceiling for a moment.
Even if it's not fully live, I still can't guess how they're gonna pull this off.
Live broadcast or not, it still takes time. The 1,000 minutes don't air, sure, but they still have to record it all.
What the hell are they planning?
The first episode of Invasion from Seoul wasn't a total flop, but it wasn't a massive hit either. It generated decent buzz in the rock scene, and music enthusiasts enjoyed it—but that was it.
The bands scouted from that first episode got some fame, but nothing on the scale of the grandiose "Invasion" name they'd borrowed.
Mtown, the network behind it, was baffled by the mediocre results. They'd lined up musically talented bands, delivered thrilling competitions, solid band pools, great rivalries, killer songs, hot visuals—everything was perfect. Yet it bombed in ratings.
What went wrong? Instead of digging deep, the execs decided to throw in star power guaranteed to boost season 2.
"Negative emotions are key," Yoon Dongwook said, puffing on his cigarette.
Who was he? The legendary PD who'd helmed season 2 of Mtown's iconic audition show—and turned it into a nationwide phenomenon. That season had everyone glued to their screens. And the backlash? Massive.
Iconic moments included long takes of eliminated trainees sobbing as they left, followed by instant interviews with them and their peers sharing defeat reactions. It drew KOCSC warnings and a flood of "Is this cruelty okay on TV?" hit pieces.
Online death threats calling him "Yoon the bastard" were too extreme even to log as mere negativity. Despite the historic success, Mtown had to boot him.
But sometimes, for victory, you swallow the poison knowingly. The execs yanked Yoon Dongwook from other duties and made him main PD for Invasion.
"What do you mean?"
"To hook viewers, you can't just feed them positive vibes. Throw in negativity, show it resolving—that's real immersion. Season 1 lacked that negative edge."
Dongwook stubbed out his cig in the ashtray. Beautiful competition? Fair and just process? Nice in theory. But it doesn't suck people in.
"Won't running lives like this just scream 'unfair'? How do you handle the backlash?"
That came from Kim Jiwon, the PD. Mtown had assigned her to rein in the main PD's excesses, even if just a bit. She thought his prelim format was utterly absurd.
Lives in Hongdae, Gangnam, Sinchon, and other spots. Only 30 invited audience members—volunteers who'd signed up. Bands perform for them, get scored. Passersby can vote too, duplicates filtered. Scores out of 5, total and average both matter. Combined with expert panel scores from videos, that decides prelim advancement.
Performance window: 9 AM to 9 PM. 45 minutes per band including setup—overtime means auto-elim. Order randomized.
This is controversy bait from start to finish, Jiwon thought. Even filtering duplicates, how do you stop fans from swarming? What about dead early slots? Location picks? Total mess.
"Why handle it?"
"Huh?"
"It's fair. Random. That's it."
Classic "alppano" logic—short for audition participant hardship denial. No one forced them with a knife. Bad conditions? Play great music anyway.
"We ran it fair and random. Drew the short straw? Band's problem to overcome."
"And the hate?"
"Jiwon, you still don't get TV? Hate means noise. Noise means eyes on us. How do you not know that basic shit?"
Dongwook clucked his tongue, lighting another smoke. Jiwon coughed, waving away the haze. He chuckled and continued.
"Only mains air anyway. Bands that flop on bad slots? They were goners regardless—viewers just see their pathetic fails, 'cause that's all we'll show."
"...And existing fans voting? How do you stop that?"
"Why stop it?"
Jiwon stared like he'd lost it. He just shrugged.
"We randomize slots and send 'em. Job done. Fans swarm? Can't block 'voluntary' action. Plus, diehard fans turning into viewers? Pure win."
"Bands without fans get screwed."
"Exactly why..." Dongwook tapped some samples. Makeupped band faces, boosted to look like idols.
"Post-prelim signups, we viral these hard. Even casuals will flock for pretty faces. We'll shoot appeal videos too—of course, they pay their own dime."
Jiwon was speechless. Pulling stunts like this for early buzz? Explained his season 2 smash—and the hate tsunami.
Once the format dropped after signups closed, Myeongjeon felt beyond stumped—straight-up baffled. How the hell do you tackle this?
Fuck fairness, apparently...
In a twisted way, maybe it was fair. Everyone had equal shot at ruin. But post-draw? Garbage slot? Just blame your luck and bow out?
"This is too much, right?"
Choi Iseo voiced Myeongjeon's exact thoughts, tone dripping disbelief. Jeong Hyeona kept double-checking if she'd read right.
"Internet's a total shitshow."
Yoo Seoha flashed her community feed. Studio sneak peeks from pre-shoots had been Photoshopped to hell online.
"Deciding before even hearing the music? Based on faces?"
"That's how that scene rolls."
Iseo played know-it-all, like she'd dabbled in idols once. What hasn't she tried? Myeongjeon wondered, digging deeper into posts.
Viral marketing worked—tons of Invasion buzz. Some music talk, but mostly faces and "chemistry."
"Band audition, and this is okay?"
"Main PD this season ran that idol show. Makes sense."
"Huh..."
Group Sound got some love too. Obvious fan posts like:
Music mentions too. But positive or negative, the volume was low. Average at best—no hard numbers, just the vibe.
"Can we pass prelims like this? Honestly, not confident."
"Yeah."
Experts weigh in too, but articles downplayed it. And killer music won't save a dead slot in a dead zone.
"Overcoming shit conditions makes you shine brighter, though. More dramatic—could mean more airtime."
Myeongjeon muttered. No point overthinking. Prelims kicked off next week—practice was the only answer.