WHEN Squid Game season three premiered on June 27, the expectations were as towering as the doll from Red Light, Green Light. The third and final chapter of Netflix’s most-watched series promised resolution and revenge and largely delivers, albeit with a deeper, more cerebral twist than its blood-soaked predecessors. The games are back, but so is something new, which is the unsettling question of what comes after survival.
What is the cost of playing god?
The season picks up moments after the cliffhanger from season two. Seong Gi-hun (Lee Jung-jae), no longer the dazed winner of the first game, is now a man with a mission to dismantle the system from within. He re-enters the Game not for money, but for justice. However, as the lines blur between infiltrator and participant, he must decide how far he is willing to go before becoming the very thing he vowed to destroy.
Instead of amping up the gore, Squid Game season three leans into psychological warfare. Moral dilemmas are baked into each challenge. In one of the standout sequences, players must kill someone to survive the next round, forcing them to confront their own humanity.
Gi-hun’s arc is the emotional spine of the season. Jung-jae returns with a raw, exhausted performance that mirrors the weariness of a man haunted by the blood on his hands. Supporting him is Lee Byung-hun’s enigmatic Front Man, whose own loyalties begin to fracture
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Unfortunately, the return of Jun-ho (Wi Ha-joon) as the rogue detective feels like a drawn-out misfire. After several episodes of stealthy build-up, he finally confronts the Front Man, only to ask a single question: “Why?” It is an anti-climactic payoff to an otherwise intriguing re-entry. For all his sneaking around, he ultimately adds little to the season beyond that one unresolved moment.
Powerful newcomers, unforgettable exits
While the returning cast brings familiar weight, it is the newcomers who leave a lasting mark. Among them, Hyunju (played by Park Gyu-young) becomes an instant fan favourite. A fierce, sharp-witted player with guarded warmth, her early exit feels shocking and tragic, one of the season’s most heartbreaking decisions. Her presence lingers long after she is gone, and her absence is keenly felt.
Then there is the emotionally resonant mother-son duo, who bring quiet heartbreak to the chaos. Their scenes together, understated but deeply affecting, cut through the larger spectacle and ground the series in human stakes. And finally, Yuri (played by Jo Yu-ri) delivers a quietly stunning performance.
Together, this trio – Hyunju, Geum-ja and Yuri – form the heart of season three. Their impact is strong and their arcs carry the show’s deeper themes better than any monologue ever could.
On the flip side, Im Si-wan’s character Myung-gi, initially teased as a potential game-changer, proves to be a frustrating presence. From the first episode, his character is written as self-serving, manipulative and cruel without layers. Si-wan plays him well. In fact, the portrayal is so effective that it becomes easy to loathe him.
Twisted games, quieter screams
Season three takes a bold risk – it slows things down. The brutality is less visual, more philosophical. Instead of iconic, viscerally shocking moments such as the glass bridge or tug-of-war, this season relies on slow burns. Trust becomes a trap. Sacrifice becomes strategy. Viewers who expected non-stop carnage may be surprised or frustrated by the shift, but there is no denying the growth in storytelling.
A particularly powerful thread involves Gi-hun’s final decision to save a baby at the cost of his own survival. It is a moment that subverts the Game’s core philosophy and leaves viewers with the bitter truth that the system may only break when someone chooses to lose.
Lights, masks and legacy
Behind the scenes, Squid Game remains a juggernaut. Created by Hwang Dong-hyuk, the franchise is now a Netflix legend. The first season crossed 1.65 billion viewing hours in less than a month, while season three racked up 60 million views in its first three days.
But the legacy extends beyond numbers. The series helped put Korean drama firmly on the global map, opening doors for talent and reshaping Netflix’s international strategy. From Halloween costumes and TikTok parodies to academic essays dissecting class and morality, Squid Game transcended entertainment to become cultural shorthand for “what happens when a broken system eats its own”.
If season three has flaws, they mostly lie in structure. Mid-season episodes lose momentum with espionage subplots and too many character threads introduced without resolution. The games are fewer and while they carry philosophical weight, they do not reach the iconic status of earlier entries. Squid Game season three does not try to shock the way season one did but it leaves scars that
linger longer.
Squid Game season three is now streaming on Netflix.
