9dcc: A Case Study in Web3 Hype and Broken Promises

As the curtain falls on 9dcc, the self-proclaimed "first crypto-native luxury brand," it's imperative to scrutinize the trajectory that led to its demise. Founded by the pseudonymous crypto influencer Gmoney in 2022, 9dcc aimed to revolutionize fashion by intertwining physical apparel with blockchain technology. However, what began as an ambitious endeavor has culminated in disappointment for many early supporters.

The Allure of Admit One

9dcc's journey commenced with the distribution of 1,000 "Admit One" NFTs, touted as exclusive access passes to the brand's ecosystem. These tokens were not merely digital collectibles; they were marketed as keys to a realm of privileges, including early access to product drops, exclusive events, and potential financial rewards. The promise was clear: hold onto your Admit One NFT, and you'll be part of an elite community reaping ongoing benefits.

However, as the three-year mark approached, the anticipated advantages failed to materialize. Instead, the brand announced its shutdown, leaving holders with little more than depreciated digital assets.

The Black Box Controversy

In December 2024, 9dcc introduced the "Black Box"—a limited release of 2,750 NFTs priced at 0.069 ETH each. Each box promised a mix of physical and digital rewards, with the tantalizing possibility of obtaining a rare CryptoPunk NFT. The drop sold out in a mere 45 seconds, generating significant buzz.

However, smart contract reviews uncovered risks in the raffle system, specifically that the Chainlink VRF (used to randomize results) could be manipulated within a predefined range. When a user raised this concern in the private Admit One Telegram group, they were removed from the community—an action that revealed a troubling pattern of censorship and refusal to engage with legitimate criticism.

Another disappointing aspect of 9dcc’s operation was the misleading promise around OpenSea XP rewards during the Black Box drop. While there was hype suggesting that buyers would earn a meaningful amount of XP—OpenSea’s native reputation system—users later discovered they received an insignificant amount, often just around 20XP. 

There was no clear pre-announcement or transparency about what the XP reward would be, and when the dust settled, many realized the rewards were practically worthless. This added to the growing sense of deception, where expectations were inflated during the drop, only for the actual benefits to be trivial or unacknowledged after purchase.

Community Censorship and Red Flags

Perhaps the most damning aspect of 9dcc's downfall is its intolerance of dissent. Instead of welcoming security-minded feedback, the team quietly removed those who raised uncomfortable questions. The community was effectively a gated echo chamber where trust was demanded but never earned. This, combined with failed promises and technical glitches during product redemptions, paints a picture of a brand more focused on maintaining appearances than delivering value.

A Pattern of Overpromising and Under-Delivering

From the unfulfilled XP rewards tied to OpenSea, to the buggy Black Box burn mechanism, to over-hyped carabiner add-ons that had no real utility—9dcc consistently overpromised and under-delivered. Despite working with external platforms like POAP early on, they later insisted on building isolated systems like their own sticker collectibles, which only introduced complexity and bugs. 9dcc positioned itself as a “lone wolf” in Web3 fashion, but ultimately alienated the very community it needed to survive.

How Did 9dcc Turn a Luxury Fashion Brand Into a Web3 Casino?

One of the most confusing aspects of 9dcc’s ecosystem was its attempt to mix high-end luxury fashion with gamified Web3 elements that resembled online casinos more than an exclusive brand experience. This strategy was not only tone-deaf but functionally flawed and misleading.

For example, to earn network points, users were incentivized to participate in gamified mechanics like daily spin wheels and blackjack simulations. The goal? To climb a leaderboard and potentially win undisclosed “benefits.” But these benefits were seldom detailed, sporadically distributed, and ultimately hollow. This mechanic turned user engagement into a grind-based experience rather than an elevated brand interaction.

As shown in the above screenshot, the 9dcc platform pushed users into daily spin streaks and multipliers for additional points, with visuals and design borrowed straight from mobile gambling apps. This raises the critical question: What place does a digital slot machine have in a luxury fashion experience?

Were Community Members Forced to Pay Hidden Fees for Basic Access?

Adding insult to injury, even after buying Admit One NFTs, users often faced unexpected and unexplained royalty fees simply to unlock advertised benefits like access to a private Telegram group or network points. If you happened to purchase your NFT from a secondary marketplace like OpenSea or Magic Eden, you may not have realized that simply holding the token wasn’t enough—you had to “pay to activate” your utility.

This screenshot illustrates the extent of the monetization: holders were forced to pay 0.0154 ETH (~$55–$60 USD at various points in 2024–25) just to qualify for points. The mechanism wasn’t clearly communicated during the purchase process and caught many off guard. The ambiguity around royalty payment and verification left users locked out of key community features, all while being asked to spend more.

What’s worse, 9dcc never delivered a fix to this system, and instead gave vague promises that “payment mechanics” would be clarified soon—something that never came before the project's shutdown. 

Was the Points System Ever Fair or Transparent?

Another key flaw in the system was the glaring imbalance of its “Network Points” leaderboard. This was supposed to reward active participants in the community, but instead it seemed to reflect opaque, inaccessible mechanics. For example, top accounts had hundreds of thousands of points—raising questions about fairness, reward distribution, and whether true meritocracy ever existed in the system.

In this leaderboard, the user “not-poap.eth” holds a staggering 420,000 points—more than six times the second-place user. Even the project founder, Gmoney, only has 59,856 points. Meanwhile, most community members sit far down the list with barely 10,000. This skewed distribution raised serious questions: Were certain accounts preloaded with points? Were internal actors disproportionately rewarded? Why weren’t the earning mechanisms made public?

For a “community-first” Web3 project, this lack of transparency reeked of gatekeeping and artificial advantage.

Together, these screenshots and platform design choices paint a damning picture: 9dcc didn’t just fail—it actively gamified its downfall. A luxury Web3 brand built on promises of digital exclusivity, fashion-tech fusion, and transparent community engagement instead became a casino-style interface riddled with errors, hidden costs, and uneven reward mechanics.

When you zoom out, it’s hard to see 9dcc as anything but a well-branded cash grab with a crypto-themed spin wheel at its core.

The Final Act

On May 27, 2025, Gmoney announced the winding down of 9dcc, citing economic challenges and a premature entry into the market. While acknowledging the innovative efforts, he admitted that the brand might have been "too early" for its vision to resonate. The timing of the closure—coinciding exactly with the three-year expiration of the Admit One NFT benefits—raises serious questions about whether this was a graceful exit or a calculated rug pull.

Gmoney’s Shutdown Statement

In his tweet titled “A letter from @gmoneyNFT”, Gmoney expressed “a really heavy heart” as he announced the brand’s closure. But for many in the community, the letter read more like a damage control PR statement than an honest reckoning.

By blaming "macroeconomic headwinds" and "luxury retail softness"*, Gmoney attempted to deflect accountability from the brand’s internal failures—failures that included opaque communication, misleading promises, technical flaws, and the silencing of critics. His letter made no mention of the Black Box controversies, nor of the raffle manipulation concerns, nor of the community backlash over failed expectations.

The phrase “we may just have been a little early to that vision” has become a cliché in Web3 postmortems, often used to excuse poor planning, half-baked roadmaps, and lack of sustainable strategy. It shifts the blame from execution to timing—a convenient narrative that sidesteps the hard truth: the project was not only premature, it was grossly mismanaged.

Even the so-called redemption plan for leftover products (IT-01, IT-02, and Stapleverse hats) comes across as a last-minute formality rather than a genuine attempt to make things right. And ending the “original membership commitment” right as the three-year window closes feels suspiciously transactional—as though the obligations were only ever meant to last that long, regardless of the community’s expectations.

Conclusion: A Scam Wrapped in Luxury?

9dcc’s narrative is emblematic of how flashy branding, celebrity crypto figures, and vague roadmaps can mask deeper issues. From failed promises and questionable raffle practices to censorship of dissent and a final shutdown just before milestone obligations—everything reeks of calculated misdirection.

Supporters who believed in the long-term vision of a decentralized luxury brand were instead left with dust—some stickers, some hoodies, and broken promises. If Web3 wants to evolve, the industry must stop tolerating projects like 9dcc that use "community" as a buzzword while operating with zero accountability.

Tomorrow marks the end—not just of 9dcc, but of another cautionary chapter in crypto’s turbulent history.