The final season of Squid Game is here and it's the most disturbing one yet.

The final season of Netflix's dystopian thriller delivers shocking deaths, complex characters, and an unflinching look at humanity's darkest impulses. Squid Game season 3 is back, and honestly? I'm not sure my emotional wellbeing was ready for it.

After six months of waiting (and recovering from the trauma of season 2's cliffhanger), the final instalment of Hwang Dong-hyuk's dystopian masterpiece has arrived to deliver one last gut punch to our collective psyche. And what a punch it is. No, seriously… I'm not okay.

This season we get more painful betrayals, emotional deaths, and the confrontation we've all been waiting for.

For the uninitiated, Squid Game follows desperate, debt-ridden people who enter a mysterious competition where childhood games become deadly. The prize? 45.6 billion won. The cost? Potentially your life, and definitely your humanity.

Watch the trailer for Squid Game season 3. Article continues after video.

Season 2 left us with Gi-hun (Lee Jung-jae) at his absolute lowest point, wailing over the lifeless body of his best friend Jung-bae, murdered by the Front Man who had been masquerading as fellow player Young-il.

Season 3 picks up immediately after this devastating betrayal, with Gi-hun forced to confront whether he can still maintain his mission to save others when the game has taken everything from him. Just like last season, the games go on and the bloodshed continues.

The characterisation this season is phenomenally complex and really leans into ambiguity.

We watch heroes transform into morally grey figures who make choices that feel irreversible. The show brilliantly calls into question whether there's truly a "good guy" in this nightmare, whilst simultaneously showing us the absolute best and worst of humanity.

Some characters refuse to let the game compromise their morals, whilst others... well, let's just say the descent is both frustrating and heartbreaking.

Image: Netflix

The deaths this season are more shocking and emotionally traumatic than anything we've seen before. Without spoiling anything, the emotional weight of losing certain characters in season 3 hits differently.

The writers know exactly which heartstrings to pull, and they pull them mercilessly. I found myself genuinely sobbing at my TV screen — the kind of ugly crying that makes you question your life choices and wonder why you do this to yourself for entertainment.

And THE GAMES. The games themselves feel exponentially more brutal this time around. Not necessarily more violent in terms of blood and gore (well, maybe a bit), but infinitely more personal. There's something deeply disturbing about watching participants inflict violence on each other rather than being eliminated by faceless guards.

The psychological torture of turning people against each other just feels… so wrong.

Image: Netflix

Now, while I was still engaged by the season, that's not to say that there weren't things that didn't quite hit the mark.

First of all, why do the VIPs still talk so bloody weirdly? Three seasons in, and their dialogue remains absolutely ridiculous with that strange artificial sound quality — not to mention TERRIBLE dialogue — that completely takes you out of the moment. It's like they're performing in a completely different show; one that's significantly less sophisticated than the show surrounding them.

I've also come to realise that excessive violence just isn't my vibe anymore. This isn't necessarily a criticism of the show — it's doing exactly what it set out to do. But after three seasons of psychological and physical brutality, I found myself questioning my own consumption of this content. Which, to be fair, is probably exactly the point Hwang Dong-hyuk is trying to make.

Ultimately, season 3 feels like the perfect conclusion to this trilogy. Squid Game has always been a searing critique of modern capitalist society, highlighting the desperation and exploitation of those trapped at the bottom of the economic ladder. It's about the illusion of choice and the lengths people will go to for money and survival.

But here's the thing — it was never about good people making good choices and bad people making bad choices. As one character perfectly summarises in a poignant moment this season: "We made our choices."

Image: Netflix

This line cuts to the absolute heart of what makes Squid Game so devastatingly effective. The show refuses to let us off the hook with simple moral categories. There are no clear heroes or villains here (well, for the most part) — just people pushed to their absolute breaking point, making impossible decisions in an impossible situation.

The genius of this final season is how it strips away any remaining illusions about moral purity. Characters we've rooted for across three seasons make choices that feel unforgivable. People we've written off as irredeemable show flashes of genuine humanity. The game doesn't corrupt people so much as it reveals who they truly are when everything else is stripped away.

"We made our choices" isn't an excuse — it's an acknowledgement of agency even within a system designed to eliminate it. These characters aren't just victims of circumstance… they're somewhat participants in their own moral destruction. They walked into that room. They signed those contracts. They picked up those weapons.

Image: Netflix

The show forces us to confront the uncomfortable reality of what human beings can do when they're pushed to their limits. When faced with crushing debt, family obligations, and the promise of financial freedom, how many of us would really walk away? When survival is on the line, how quickly do our moral principles crumble?

This is what makes Squid Game so much more than just a violent thriller. It's a mirror held up to our own capacity for both cruelty and compassion, and the terrifying realisation that the line between the two is far thinner than we'd like to believe.

What haunts you long after watching isn't just the violence, but the characters who maintain their moral compass even as everything around them collapses — proving that whilst evil may be systemic, goodness remains a deeply personal choice. Even though society's structures may be designed to bring out our worst impulses, there will always be those who still choose to hold onto their humanity — even if it costs them everything.

Season 3 doesn't offer easy answers or comfortable resolutions. Instead, it delivers a brutal, unflinching examination of humanity that will stay with you long after the credits roll.

Squid Game season 3 is now streaming on Netflix.

Feature Image: Netflix.