I’m going to say it bluntly: Squid Game Season 3 (오징어 게임) left me empty. The first two seasons swept me—hooked me—along with their brutally logical and empathetically insightful storytelling. Season 1 hit me like a bolt of lightning and lingered with me for weeks. Season 2, problematic but engrossing, still managed to get under my skin with moments that resonated with me. But Season 3? It was as if going to see what used to be a favourite restaurant and finding out that dinner was rotten. And the chef is gone.
I still liked Squid Game 3. There were some payoff scenes, some landed symbolism, and some plot reveals that actually got me on the edge of my seat. But what I am not saying is that I can ignore how the season did not really make sense, or live up to what preceded it. This was by far the most incoherent, uneven, and emotionally infuriating entry in the Squid Game franchise.
I’m not being diplomatic about it—this was a disaster. It was sloppy, rushed, and nearly as if the writers were phoning it in rather than giving us a coherent conclusion. The longer I sat here, the more I was sure of it: this was the worst chapter of the Squid Game series. Here’s why, straight from the heart and straight onto the page.
Reasons Squid Game Season 3 Was the Worst Decision in the Franchise
The Death of Player 120 aka Hyun-ju, Felt Fabricated
I can still remember how keenly written Hyun-ju was during Season 2—rough, together, survivor. So when she simply appears in a doorway in a game of life and death, I bristled—and not out of suspense. It was utterly unwarranted. It didn’t come across as fitting for someone as keen as she was to commit such a basic mistake. Instead of shocking me, her death was a message: the writers had no idea what to do with her, so they killed her off on a whim. Was it supposed to be emotional? To me, it was emotional, but more frustrating and annoying.
Player 333 aka Myung-gi’s Character Arc Was Worst
I waited and waited for the show to reward Myung-gi with depth and motivation—something tangible to ground him. But what I got was an atrocity. One moment he’s defending his ex, the next greed-driven, and then ready to murder a baby. And then flip-flop, in love all over again. None of it is emotionally or logically connected. I had no idea who he was or what he stood for—and that refusal to stay true to an organic character development made every second with him feel cheap. If you’re going to invest a character with years of history, don’t make them a plot device that can turn around on a dime. It hurts me more than it involves.
Player 456 aka Gi-hun’s Moral Incoherence
There was one thing that I couldn’t shake: he kills Dae-ho without hesitation, then hesitates later when the stakes are grotesque. Now suddenly, he’s the moral centre of Squid Game? I wanted to be interrupted, but I just wondered if I was being manipulated. This was not a conscience-wracked character. It was a storytelling grasping at emotional capital, but faltering on how he could possibly justify his behaviour. I didn’t end up believing it, or the final sacrifice he made. And that left his death feeling hollow.
Also Read: Squid Game Season 3 Review: Violent, Revengeful and an Ending That Almost Hits the Mark
Front Man’s Backstory was Just Ghosted by the Plot
I waited for his account. I had questions: How did he transition from police officer to lord of death games? What broke inside him? Season 3 teased me with ambiguous flashbacks and then stumbled. I felt betrayed—like I was being led toward an answer that never came. It was like purchasing a mystery thriller and discovering the ending was just “there is no killer.” It emptied out part of me, because that mystery was the emotional gum that was holding me in there for seasons.
The VIPs in Squid Game S3 Were More Irritating Than Ever
The VIPs were borderline cartoonish already in Season 1, but I suffered through it. In Season 3, however, they’re insufferable. Their lines read as if they were written in one sitting by someone who has never had dealings with actual human beings. They gave away scenes with lines such as “Oh, what a thrilling turn of fate!” or “Now this is the drama I paid for.”
Not only were those lines cringe, but actively killed the tension of high-stakes scenes. Rather than being creepy depictions of evil and wealth, they sounded like cheap Bond villains. Not if Netflix is foreshadowing a worldwide expansion of the games, I hope they swap out this whole VIP cast with people who can speak like normal human beings and not broken automata.
Jun-ho’s Search For The Island Was a Waste of Time
Jun-ho’s return was like having an old friend back. I was hoping we’d actually see him finally unveil the island, speak to his brother, perhaps conclude the games. Instead? Five long, drawn-out episodes on a boat. Nothing. The detective suspense build-up disintegrated as the show teased everything into one massive finale moment, then informed me that I should be grateful. I wasn’t. His quest was shoe-horned in, like a cameo for another person’s spin-off idea. Nothing he did granted him the screentime.
Bonus: The Winner Twist Felt Hollow
“Logically,” the baby is the winner because the rest of the players are dead. Deep? Perhaps. I sat in front of my screen, glaring at the ceiling, wondering if that was what they had planned as a cliffhanger finale. A baby’s win was like moral convenience when the season did not warrant that. A toddler cannot be our hero unless we wish to be convinced that nothing else matters—but I did. I felt nothing.
I loved Squid Game. I supported it. I referenced it. I endorsed it with zeal. But Season 3 didn’t just disappoint me—it confused, disappointed, and drained me. That which I once cheered for now makes me ambivalent. The world of Squid Game deserved better than this shaky final performance. And I say that with a heavy heart, because I still feel the resonance of those early seasons in my bones, but this one? Just white noise.
Perhaps I am being unjust. Perhaps someone else did see something within its disorganisation. But to me, as a viewer who loved what might have been, this was goodbye to all that I wished the show might be. And that hurts more than any shock revelation ever could.
Season 3 of Squid Game is now streaming on Netflix.
Also Read: Squid Game Season 3 Ending Explained: Did Player 456 Succeed in His Plan? Who Became the Winner?
