Opinion on Squid Game Season 3 — An Emotional and Utterly Disappointing Finale

Squid Game — without a doubt, one of the defining shows of its generation and a true phenomenon. When the first season premiered in 2021, audiences were stunned by the story’s uncompromising brutality. However, the ending felt complete: Seong Gi-hun won the games and managed to change his life. Unfortunately — as is often the case — Netflix couldn’t let a project with such overwhelming popularity simply end. A full continuation was announced, extending the story for two more seasons. Viewers were promised answers to all the bloody games’ secrets, and the lore — which desperately needed more depth — was set to be expanded. Who’s behind it all, what’s the deal with the VIPs, and how can it all be stopped — these were questions begging for resolution. Season 3 did, in fact, bring the main character’s arc to an end — just not in the way many hoped. In fact, it might even be the year’s biggest letdown. Critics, of course, handed out glowing reviews — but we completely disagree. And here’s why…

Let’s get one thing straight: if you’re reading this, you’ve likely seen the previous seasons — and maybe even season 3. So we won’t waste time explaining what the games are or how they work. The previous season (season 2) ended on an obvious cliffhanger — Gi-hun had rallied a player uprising against the organizers but ultimately failed. The games continued, and many of the brave Korean’s allies had fallen.

By now, the narrative has moved far beyond the actual games themselves. In the finale, we were given six more episodes meant to provide real closure to the key mysteries — the very reason this continuation existed. However, the show’s writer and creator, Hwang Dong-hyuk, blatantly ignored this obligation and instead continued to drown the story in bleak despair, adding three more games that consume most of the runtime. To say we were disappointed would be an understatement.

It’s also important to understand one key point: seasons two and three are not separate chapters like the first. There’s no clear break in the story; the events pick up exactly where they left off. To be fair, season 3 is more like season 2.5. They’re meant to be watched together, back-to-back, because only then do the characters avoid coming off as paper-thin — which was one of the main criticisms of the second chapter. Netflix did its best to rush out the finale as quickly as possible, but the production gap was inevitable — and it shows. We’ve forgotten who’s who and why some characters are good while others are bad. It’s not hard to recall, but still, the ending deserved more than just a recycled set of games and character infighting.

In the end, because of how event-light season two was, the creators now spend far too much time trying to wrap up character arcs that have little impact on the bigger picture.

At the time season two ended, hype had reached such a level that the internet was flooded with videos dissecting theories and Chekhov’s guns that the plot had carefully placed wherever possible. But in the end, they remained just that — theories. There’s nothing even close to the kind of twist we saw in season one, where Player 001 turned out to be a VIP and one of the game’s masterminds. This time, Hwang Dong-hyuk simply recycles his own idea, having Game Master Hwang In-ho betray Gi-hun in exactly the same way as the old man did in the first part. And even that is revealed back in season two. In season three, there are no new revelations about the lore at all.

Let’s quickly go over the biggest fan theories and questions we were hoping would get answers or development: the Game Master and his detective brother are actually the sons of Player 001 from season one; some of the VIPs are secretly participating in the games themselves; the games aren’t just about money, but also serve to recruit new organizers — Gi-hun is being groomed to become the next Front Man; the VIPs are a secret society with goals beyond entertainment; there’s someone above the VIPs and the Game Master — a shadow figure pulling the strings; Hwang In-ho will eventually switch sides and help Gi-hun, or vice versa; and finally, the big one — Gi-hun will find a way to end the games for good. All of this provided rich soil for a meaningful finale, and six episodes would’ve been more than enough to gradually explore everything the characters have been building toward.

And let’s be clear: these weren’t baseless fan fantasies. For example, the theory about the detective and the Game Master being related to Player 001 was strongly hinted at throughout season two — the theme of their father came up repeatedly. Sure, fans can misread things or look for deeper meaning where there is none. But in exchange, the creator offered nothing at all. They went with the most basic, unimaginative outcome possible.

Let’s start with Gi-hun. In the first half of season three, the main character is barely present. He’s broken — by everything that happened and by the fact that many players now blame him for the failed uprising. Gi-hun’s main goal is to take revenge on the guy he had sent to fetch ammo in the season two finale — the one who chickened out and doomed the rebellion. That revenge plays out for a bit, and then… nothing much happens to Gi-hun. He just plays the games and tries to kill as few people as possible.

The focus shifts to a pregnant girl and an elderly woman with her son — two characters who originally felt like filler, but now suddenly become central. We don’t know who Hwang Dong-hyuk consulted with when writing the script, but it clearly wasn’t women. The pregnant girl gives birth during one of the games — in about 5 to 10 minutes of a 30-minute blood-soaked game of hide and seek. Every woman watching will probably just cover her face with her hand. And as if that weren’t enough — after giving birth, the character stands up and walks away. The baby becomes important to the plot, but the whole thing feels unrealistic and even unintentionally comical.

Could this have been done better? Easily. The fact that childbirth takes hours and the game doesn’t stop should have broken the whole concept wide open. The girl was clearly supposed to lose, and Gi-hun — maybe along with other players or even the Game Master — could’ve stepped in to protect her. Sure, that would’ve disrupted the rest of the game structure, but honestly, it’s not like we needed two more rounds of childlike fun turned into gruesome bloodbaths. Any AI could generate a hundred such "games" if needed. What’s truly difficult is taking the story in a bold new direction and actually building momentum. That takes imagination.

Instead, the birth is used as the emotional trigger for a personal tragedy involving the elderly woman and her son. Yes, it hits emotionally — but it could have been delivered under much more grounded and believable circumstances.

Gi-hun’s ending becomes obvious the moment the newborn baby is officially declared a player. It doesn’t take much to guess the finale, though we kept hoping the creator wouldn’t go with such a clichéd twist. Unfortunately, he absolutely does. And that’s a problem — because Gi-hun’s entire reason for returning to the games was to get close to the organizers and dismantle the system from within. In the end, he accomplishes absolutely nothing and is left with nothing.

Sure, his final moments may squeeze out a manly tear or two, but once you start thinking about what actually happened, a harsh realization sets in: this story could’ve functioned just fine without the familiar main character. All of Gi-hun’s efforts serve no greater purpose — they simply fill up runtime, and his arc wraps up before the final games even finish. Season two could’ve just as easily introduced a completely new, decent person who ends up on the island by chance. That character could’ve done everything Gi-hun does — but without the weight of Napoleonic plans. Just a normal guy trying to survive. And that’s exactly what season one was. That’s why its ending hit so hard.

Now let’s talk about the Front Man. From the start of season two, we already knew he was a fake contestant. Gi-hun, having gone through everything with Player 001, should’ve known better — but he ignores every red flag, which leads to a forced friendship between him and the Front Man. Their dynamic had potential, but ultimately it just echoed what we’d already seen in season one — only worse. The main character stays in the dark until the very end, while the viewer sees everything coming. When Hwang In-ho exits the game and returns to his official role at the end of season two, it just feels confusing. Why was he even playing?

There were a few possible explanations. Maybe the Front Man was genuinely intrigued by Gi-hun’s worldview and wanted to observe it up close. Maybe he had his own doubts and hoped to help Gi-hun succeed. Or perhaps he just wanted to break him — and offer him his own place in the hierarchy. But the final version never really clarifies anything. The Front Man clearly empathizes with Gi-hun and even offers him a chance to cheat in order to save himself and the baby. But the protagonist stoically refuses, unable to kill unconscious opponents — even knowing full well they’ll try to kill him when they wake up.

This might look noble on the surface, but it completely contradicts Gi-hun’s previously stated goal of saving the baby at any cost. In trying to explore the boundaries of humanity, the writer ends up outsmarting himself. The entire emotional weight of the finale rests on Gi-hun trying to prove something to the Front Man — but in the end, he’s the one who loses the most.

As for the Front Man’s personal arc with his brother, the detective — it borders on surreal. Across all 12 episodes, the detective just swims in the ocean trying to find the game island. And when he finally does, he shares a long-distance glance with his brother… right before the island self-destructs and he quietly returns home. This subplot ends up being one of the most pointless in the entire show — an utterly hollow storyline included solely to pad out the runtime.

It’s hard to even grasp how much potential was lost here. If the detective had arrived earlier, he could’ve caught the VIPs in the act, helped Gi-hun, confronted his brother. There was so much he could have done. But once again, disappointment kicks in — there’s no hint of any connection to Player 001. We’re shown a brief flashback revealing that the Front Man once participated in the games himself, and the old man (Player 001) offered him a chance to cheat — exactly the same offer the Front Man later gives to Gi-hun. Unlike the protagonist, Hwang In-ho accepted the deal and slaughtered his opponents in the night.

The moral? There really isn’t one. After all, Gi-hun also kills people in the games — so there’s no meaningful difference. The Front Man simply chose the easier path and came out on top. And despite all that, there’s still no suggestion in the flashback that he has any familial ties to the old man.

The climactic confrontation between Gi-hun and the Front Man ends up unintentionally comical. The latter sits in dramatic fashion and invites Gi-hun to do the same, declaring that the conversation will be long. At that point, the viewer is on high alert, expecting a massive reveal or a shocking twist. Instead, Hwang In-ho calmly states who he is and offers Gi-hun a knife for a little nighttime slaughter. Gi-hun takes the knife and walks away. That’s it. The long-awaited "reveal" lasts five minutes.

A side plot from season two also limps its way into the finale — the female guard. She always felt unnecessary, but there was hope her character might pay off in season three. No such luck. She saves exactly one player… and that’s it. Another waste of runtime on filler that adds nothing to the central plot.

The VIPs remain as mysterious and shallow as ever. They show up, watch the games, and disappear. There’s no reckoning, no additional context, no real explanation. Just the same caricature of wealthy sadists looking for new twisted thrills.

Is there anything else? Sadly, no. What we’re left with is three new games and a limp, painfully predictable wrapping up of various story arcs — that’s what the final season of Squid Game has to offer. Sure, we’re teased that the games will continue in America, but that’s a whole different story. According to rumors, David Fincher is set to direct the U.S. adaptation — but again, that’s just it: an adaptation, not a continuation. That the games exist in the same universe as Gi-hun now feels like it barely matters.

If there’s anything unintentionally memorable, it’s the atrocious CGI. In one of Netflix’s most expensive shows, they apparently couldn’t afford decent digital models for the newborn baby or the dog. Both look worse than characters in modern video games and immediately make you want to cover your eyes.

The verdict, unfortunately, isn’t great. In the moment, season three is capable of stirring emotions. Major character deaths are staged with care and cinematic weight. But the issue is simple: we’ve seen all of this before. It worked in season one, but the conclusion to this story needed a completely different approach. No one asked Hwang Dong-hyuk to just do the same thing again. Quite the opposite — most of the anticipation centered on the hope that the narrative would finally move beyond the games, especially since the rebellion in season two clearly pointed in that direction.

Seasons two and three of Squid Game perfectly illustrate what happens when a creator pours all their best ideas into a single, self-contained story — and then is suddenly asked to stretch it out. The result feels rushed, almost as if the show had been unexpectedly canceled mid-production and the team had to wrap up every major arc in just a handful of episodes. The only difference is that Squid Game was never canceled. There was time — plenty of it. Had Hwang Dong-hyuk asked for more seasons to flesh out the story properly, Netflix surely would have agreed.

Instead, we got three seasons that, in many ways, mirror one another. For some viewers, that might be enough. For us — it isn’t.

***

Season three — and final — of Squid Game leaves behind only one emotion: disappointment. And that feeling only deepens with every new episode, peaking in the finale. In interviews, Hwang Dong-hyuk admitted that creating a satisfying ending for such a massive show was almost an impossible task. Who knew he’d end up delivering something eerily close to the Game of Thrones finale? Honestly, we would’ve preferred to believe Squid Game had only one season. Drawn out over two follow-ups, the repetition and uninspired narrative turns feel like a disservice to what was once a groundbreaking and unforgettable story.