‘Squid Game 2’ Violence: Has It Become More Brutal or Have I Changed?

In times of heightened stress, people often seek solace in entertaining distractions, with engaging TV shows being a timeless go-to. This is perhaps why the release of Squid Game’s highly anticipated second season on December 26 hit home perfectly. However, as I immersed myself in the episodes of Squid Game 2, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the series—particularly its graphic violence—resonated differently this time around.

Reflecting on my experience with the first season of Squid Game, I remember the nail-biting tension that had me on the edge of my seat, often gasping aloud at the shocking fate of contestants. The emotional weight of losing characters I had grown attached to lingered long after the credits rolled. The series presented a harsh critique of capitalism, portraying the brutal reality of desperate circumstances as a cathartic outlet for viewers’ frustrations. It seemed to suggest, “Capitalism is merciless; let’s channel that outrage in the most thrilling way possible.”

However, the exhilarating experience of Season 1 felt morphed in Season 2, transforming the thrill of survival into a heavy burden. The question loomed: Had Squid Game changed, or had I?

Heavy Hearts

With the first season premiering in September 2021 and the sequel arriving over three years later, the world feels drastically different. The weight of time during this gap, especially with January 2025 feeling like a year in itself, amplifies this difference. Watching Squid Game 2 served as a poignant reminder of how much has changed since fall/winter 2021.

A long hiatus between seasons often necessitates a “settling back in”phase for viewers; however, this phase for Squid Game 2 felt drawn out, stretching over at least the first three episodes of its eight-part series. Even when the show finally found its rhythm, an undeniable sense of difference lingered in the air.

This change is somewhat intentional. As Gi-hun attempts to shield others during the “red light, green light”game, the chaos continues unabated. In an effort to add depth, the latest season introduces a new voting mechanism allowing contestants to decide whether to continue playing after each game, adding another layer of complexity to the unfolding drama.

Moreover, the cultural landscape surrounding Squid Game has shifted significantly. Netflix appears to be monetizing its success with the reality show adaptation, Squid Game: The Challenge, showcasing a stark contrast to the series’s critical take on capitalism. This exploitation creates striking cognitive dissonance—watching a studio leverage a narrative rooted in anti-capitalist sentiments while simultaneously profiting from it.

As the deadly games progressed, I found myself grappling with the brutality of it all. The deaths of contenders seemed excessively cruel and difficult to watch. With the contestants caught in a relentless cycle of voting failures, it became painfully clear how this would end—leaving only one survivor out of those seeking refuge from financial ruin. What had once felt like thrilling entertainment now struck me as mere cruelty without purpose. As sympathetic characters were eliminated, I questioned, “Is this what I want to witness right now?”

Like many, I, too, have evolved in the past three years. The collective discourse in my society seems increasingly harsh. Depending on when one views Squid Game 2, we find ourselves either bracing for or already experiencing Trump’s second term. The oligarchic traits of his administration make the ruling class depicted in Squid Game feel alarmingly real.

The contestants’ struggles no longer evoke a sense of catharsis; rather, they feel like relentless blows when we’re already struggling to defend ourselves.

It’s clear that both the world and I have transformed, and this evolution has profoundly impacted my experience with Squid Game, and not for the better.

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