Would Squid Game’s greatest trick be making you root for its real villain?

Disclaimer: The opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not reflect the official position of any organization or entity. This analysis is based on the author’s interpretation of the characters and events in Squid Game and is intended to offer a critical perspective on the series.

Back in 2021, Squid Game quickly became a worldwide sensation. With its thought-provoking societal commentary, multifaceted characters, and suspenseful plot twists, the series took the world by storm.

Fans were especially drawn to Player 456 (Seong Gi-hun) in the first season because he was shown as the figure who needed atonement the most. Many believed he held the secret to unseating the repressive system that underpinned the game, and he became a symbol of the struggle against inequity.

However, as the story progresses, it becomes clear to those who are truly paying attention that Player 456 was never a hero. He is a man shaped by his own flaws, by a selfish drive that made him more of a pawn in the system than someone who would break free from it.

Player 456 isn’t the hero they tried to sell us. He was never a hero. From the first scene, the show wanted us to root for him, painting him as the underdog, the broken man desperate to fix the world—a victim of circumstances.

Strip away the sad story, and what’s left? A man so obsessed with power and control that he let his daughter grow up without him, ignored the people he swore to protect, and turned every second chance into another excuse to chase the game.

But the game never really ended, did it? While 456 might have left the arena three years ago, his mind never truly escaped. The second season of Squid Game picks up where the first left off (and moves on to another edition of the game, two years later). It takes us even deeper into the complex web of manipulation, betrayal, and greed.

After the horror of the original game, it quickly becomes clear that 456 didn’t learn the lessons the game tried to teach him. He re-enters this twisted world as if nothing has changed, thinking he has control now. However, he’s still just a pawn, desperate to keep playing the game.

The stakes are higher, the games (and players) more dangerous, and the lines between hero and villain blur even further. 456 may have survived before, but his obsession with the game—his ego—keeps him tied to this deadly cycle. The façade of leadership, the desire to win at any cost, leads him straight back into a deadly spiral.

The Recruiter showed us what true resolve looks like

Now let’s talk about the recruiter—the man who actually played the game by the rules. He knew what was coming, but he sat down, gun in hand, and faced death with something 456 never had: honor.

The recruiter didn’t flinch. He didn’t break the rules. He knew it would be a certain death, and he took the shot, accepting the consequences of his actions and decisions. Meanwhile, 456 hid behind excuses, disguising his obsession as justice when it was always personal. The recruiter left us with one simple question: Who’s really stronger—the one who dies standing or the one who lives crawling?

The mask never came off

And speaking of masks, 456 never needed one. The others wore theirs out of fear, but his was different. His was built-in, the mask of the “broken hero” who was always more interested in control than compassion.

Look at Jung-bae—the friend he abandoned for three years without a word. When they finally meet again, does 456 apologize? No. He takes charge. Commands him. “Do what I say.” That’s not protection; that’s domination. And domination is exactly what the game is built on.

He’s not tearing down the system; he’s copying it. The pink suits, the symbols, the rules—it’s all about power. Is it possible that this man who says he wants to end the games and the suffering will end up replacing the king in this metaphoric chess table?

Follow the money and the lies. Why didn’t he use the millions he won to help people? To save lives? Instead, he poured it all back into his obsession, using the same dirty money to play their game by his rules.

They want us to believe this is justice, but it’s not. It’s vengeance wrapped up in savior’s clothing, and the closer you look, the more it falls apart.

He’s always been a villain in the making. From the recruiter’s honor to his relationships falling apart, every interaction peels back another layer of 456’s mask until there’s nothing left but desperation and control. And desperation for control.

The truth about his failure

Let’s get one thing straight: 456 never had a plan. After all this time, after everything he’s been through, what does he bring to the table? A half-baked idea, a “plan A” that was shaky from the start, followed by a “plan B” as a backup.

But let’s be real—there’s no such thing as plan B in a life-or-death game like this. The only real plan should’ve been surviving, and to do that, you need a clear, decisive mind. 456 couldn’t even figure out what he wanted. He was just reacting, making things up as he went along.

And yet, he still tries to pass himself off as someone who understands the game. The same game that nearly killed him once before, and still, after these years of thinking, he learned nothing.

He still didn’t figure out 001 was someone from inside (this time, the Frontman).

Remember the 001 twist from the first season? It should’ve been the moment 456 opened his eyes, the moment he understood he was just a pawn in a bigger game. 001 was one of the creators of the entire sick system then.

This isn’t a small detail. It’s a glaring sign that 456 missed. After everything he went through during his first experience there. The deaths, the deceits. The horror, The lies. Even now, he failed to see the connection. He didn’t even question it.

Not even when 001 called him by his name this time around, in his second round in these games. He still couldn’t put two and two together. This is a man who didn't learn much from his first experience.

Ego over everything

(It seems this person agrees with my point of view. I couldn't have summarized that better!)

At the end of the day, Player 456 doesn’t care about anyone but himself. His ego drives all his actions and decisions. The show tries to show his growth and redemption, but it’s just smoke and mirrors.

He’s not saving anyone; he’s saving himself to feed his need for validation. He wants to be the hero. He wants to be the one who controls the narrative. But he’s not. He’s just another man too afraid to face the truth about himself, too obsessed with winning to stop and think. To me? He’s a villain in the making, one mistake at a time.

Here’s a summary of what makes Player 456 (Seong Gi-hun) more of a villain (and comparisons with iconic villains of pop culture):

Selfishness (Voldemort, from Harry Potter): Gi-hun acts for his own benefit. He puts his survival above others. Voldemort is hungry for power and shows little regard for life in his quest to dominate the wizarding world.

Lack of growth (like Scar, from The Lion King): Gi-hun survives the games but doesn’t learn from his mistakes. He keeps on making reckless choices. Scar, too, never learns from his rise to power, driven by an obsession with the throne.

Obsessed with control (Cersei Lannister, from Game of Thrones): Gi-hun craves control, manipulating situations without caring for others. Cersei's need for power leads her to deceive and destroy anyone who threatens her rule, disregarding others' well-being.

Ego-driven (Thanos, from Avengers: Infinity War and Avengers: Endgame): Gi-hun's actions are driven by his ego, seeking validation. Thanos, similarly, believes his destructive pursuit of control will bring balance, but it causes immense harm.

Neglect of responsibilities (Norman Osborn, from Spider-Man): Gi-hun neglects his responsibilities, focusing on his own desires. Norman Osborn, driven by greed and ambition, abandons his family and ignores the consequences of his actions.

Vengeance masked as justice (Lex Luthor, from Superman): Gi-hun's actions are motivated by personal vengeance rather than a genuine desire for justice. Lex frames his vendetta against Superman as a fight for justice. However, the truth is that it is rooted in resentment and the pursuit of power.

Failure to recognize the bigger picture (Dr. Doom, from Fantastic Four): Gi-hun fails to see the deeper truths behind the game, lacking strategic insight. Dr. Doom's obsession with control blinds him to the larger consequences of his actions.

Manipulation of others (Walter White, from Breaking Bad): Gi-hun manipulates others for his benefit, like Walter White, who justifies his actions with noble pretexts while using people to serve his own ends. Both mask selfish motives under the guise of doing 'the greater good'.

These traits combine to make Gi-hun more of a villain than a hero, trapped in a cycle of ego and control.

And that’s the true trick of Squid Game—making us think we should root for someone who was never meant to be saved in the first place.

As the Squid Game saga continues, the ultimate question remains: what will Player 456 become in the third season? After the Frontman’s brutal question—“Are you enjoying yourself, playing the hero?”—and the cold execution of his friend, we’re left to wonder how deep 456 will spiral into the darkness of the game.

Will he finally embrace his true nature? Will he keep pursuing the concept of atonement, now aware that every decision he makes drives him farther away from any possibility of actual heroism? Only the next season will show how far he is ready to go in his unrelenting quest. What's your bet?