Okay, wow, so I’ve not posted to this blog in a long while. Damn.

Well, I can say that life has kept marching on: I volunteered in Sweden for a time in October and November, helping in the restaurant food prep for a ‘Christmas Buffet’ and walking some absolutely lovely huskies; I put together an itinerary to explore Norway by bus and train, and I enjoyed that with my Mum; Christmas and New Years came and went; oh and the Bartholin Cyst came back, so that’s fun.

But enough about all that, let’s talk about Squid Game season 2 and my main boy, Seong Gi-hun.

Season 1 came out during the ‘pandemic years’, as some people affectionately call our brief experience of societal collapse (I won’t lie though, I miss the peace and quiet and how nature was really starting to make a comeback without so much human activity ransacking the planet for once.) I can’t quite remember if Dad and I watched the show immediately upon its release – we were watching a lot of Korean and Japanese dramas at the time, so we might have, though I’m not sure Netflix had done much marketing for it back then – or if we watched it after word of mouth spread of the hype and excitement. Either way, we both massively enjoyed the show and I found myself drawn particularly to the protagonist, Seong Gi-hun.

I was uncertain of how a second season would fit into the world that was created, and genuinely couldn’t fathom how a show about children’s games could continue when the only existing characters left from the first season know of the existence of the games and know of the near-a-hundred-percent death penalty already, and so obviously wouldn’t willingly join the games again. But, they pulled it off, and season 2 introduced us to a lot of new childhood games from South Korea, some of which were familiar to me from watching Run BTS! episodes, and some of which were entirely new and confusing. (Though, to be fair, half the games that BTS play on their variety show, they don’t actually understand the rules of either, and they normally always cheat as well.)

Indeed, the way the audience were brought back into the games was by following the main character, Gi-hun, as he nobly and defiantly entered the games, for a second time, in an effort to end them from within. And now we come to purpose of this post, as I just have to lament over the rotten luck that life has dealt Gi-hun because I’m worried about that sweetheart for season 3, I really am.

The poor guy has experienced and lost so much during the first games as it is, but the audience are introduced to his story of loss and hurt early on by being told that his ex-wife is moving to the other side of the world with his only daughter. Gi-hun hasn’t had the best hand dealt to him and after losing his job and income, and after developing a bad gambling habit that gives him the experience of brief rush of excitement and happiness of, ‘will he, won’t he, win?’, he divorces his wife and has to move back in with his mother. So enslaved by the dopamine hit he gets and by the optimism that next time will be better, he even gambles for his daughter’s birthday present instead of buying something straight up for her. But there are moments when Gi-hun’s hate for how modern society shines through – in an unhappy conversation with his daughter’s stepdad, and when meeting the Recruiter. When he is playing Ddakji with the Recruiter, there’s a moment where Gi-hun has forgotten that money is involved at all and he is so happy. In fact, when the Recruiter reminds him that what he was playing for was cash, such loss and sadness falls upon his features again and it’s really sad to watch.

Gi-hun, desperate for money to prove he can provide for his daughter, enters into these wild and crazy games that are being run for the pleasure and entertainment of the rich and heartless, and he goes on to experience such stress and anxiety throughout. He makes friends in the games, only to lose them in horrific and gruesome ways, and he has to watch as the other players around him, the other humans, become their worst and most wretched selves, willing to kill each other in order to survive and win a life changing sum of money. People he thought were friends are quick to betray him and each other and Gi-hun loses his childhood best friend this way, in a forced fight to the death for the VIP’s enjoyment. Gi-hun then has to watch as the realisation of what the games have done to him washes over Sangwoo’s face, resulting in him taking his own life right in front of Gi-hun’s eyes. Then, when my poor boy does get out, it’s to find that his mother died as well; he entered the games that second time when he had no other choice or means of paying for his mother’s healthcare, and now he’s lost her as well. He’s so truly and deeply alone at this point and yet he still finds the strength and righteous rage to fight on.

And fight on he does, with no small losses suffered along the way either: a search that takes him well over two years to find the Recruiter again ends with him losing a familiar face in the loan shark leader who had become one of the only constants in his life since he’d gotten out of the games the first time. Kidnapped by the Frontman, Gi-hun sacrificially gets himself back in the games, hoping to end them from within; he has a tracker in his tooth he hopes the police and his comrades will track to get to the ones behind it all. Only, it’s found and taken from him. So Gi-hun does his absolute best to try and save as many people as he can anyway, by bellowing to the other players about the rules of Red Light, Green Light, at no small risk to himself as he does so – every minute movement he makes as he shouts and gestures could result in a shot to the head. But despite his efforts, still so many people lose their lives – so much death is happening around him in a repeat of the human greed and betrayal that he experienced the first time and it must be so soul destroying, horrific and heartbreaking. And yet Gi-hun still tries to see the best in people, still tries to do so much. He continues trying to get as many people out of the games as possible, by voting, by being dangerously sacrificial in his plays and by staging a revolution in an effort to take the control room and reach those in charge by force. He’s so optimistic and earnest of the humanity in humans that he places his trust in those he shouldn’t, and he loses another dear friend. Again, right in front of his eyes, does Gi-hun see Jung-bae shot dead, and I know that he will blame himself for what happened to his friend for the rest of his life.

He entered the games again, determined to save as many as he could and get them all out, but the games don’t leave you unaffected: in an effort to save the many, Gi-hun makes a bold play to not warn everyone of the nightly carnage coming, hoping the distraction will be enough to get the jump on the Pink Guards. But there is such torture on his face at this decision as he watches so many around him get brutally murdered by the opposite team. That soul-crushing decision to sacrifice a few to save the many absolutely killed him.

Gi-hun was already haunted by nightmares of what happened in the first games and, this time, at every turn, he is thwarted and led astray and no doubt will be haunted by the events of these second games as well. I came away from season 2 feeling so incredibly heartbroken for Gi-hun; he’s trying so goddamn hard and I’m so worried about him and what his mental state will be in season 3. He’s lost so much, lost everyone, and so much has been taken from him. He’s traumatised enough as it is. I can’t help but feel defeated alongside him, and I can’t imagine how he’ll feel and react when he realises that player 001 is actually the Frontman. Is actually one of the individuals behind the running of the games. I can’t imagine the betrayal and guilt that Gi-hun will feel for trusting him.

As a sad realisation myself, upon a rewatching, I found that I miss season 1 Gi-hun. He had this spark, this childlike playfulness and innocence and optimistic curiosity and even after some of the earlier games, could still bring a bright, caring and empathetic smile onto his face for the benefit of the others around him.

I hope he can remain strong and determined despite it all, and continue to see the best in people. I hope he proves everyone around him, that are doubting him, and doubting the simple act of kindness, wrong. I hope Gi-hun leaves them all amazed and filled with wonder at his fiery will to live and that he also leaves them in awe at his raw and powerful humanity.

Seong Gi-hun has definitely become a favourite character of mine and I hope he can be happy again.

Oh, and bring back the fluffy hair from season 1 – that was adorable.