Moments In Netflix's Squid Game That Made Us Squirm

There are two types of people who watch Netflix's hit Korean series "Squid Game." There are those who watch it after hearing about how rivetingly twisted it is, and those who watch it knowing virtually nothing about it. It's held the top spot on Netflix for weeks, so why not check it out? The why doesn't really matter, though, because over the course of nine episodes, we're all equally helpless as we watch the unforgettably violent thriller unfold before us. 

The show starts out innocently enough as it follows the affable but irresponsible Seong Gi-hun, played by Lee Jung-jae. He slouches through life, but seems like an overall decent guy. Still, it can be a bit hard to watch as Gi-hun gambles his way into deepening debt and makes everyone around him miserable — especially his family. But these early, cringeworthy antics are nothing compared to what's to come once he enters a competition to win obscene amounts of money. By the time the first episode is over, "Squid Game" has knocked us off our feet and ensured we're never able to regain them until long after the last episode ends. 

It's a brutal show, physically, mentally, and emotionally. It revels in digging into what makes people tick and what makes us do horrible things. It's hard for anyone to watch without a visceral reaction for more than a few minutes. Whether it's violence, betrayal, or anticipation, these are the moments when "Squid Game" makes us squirm. 

While there's violence aplenty in "Squid Game," some of the most uncomfortable moments hit us in the quieter, more cerebral scenes. One of those moments comes in the second episode, "Hell," when the stunned survivors of Red Light, Green Light are told they can leave the brutal games any time they want — provided the majority of players vote to do so. The players are surprisingly torn. Go home and live — or, now that they understand the stakes, stay and risk it all for unimaginable wealth?

Each side seems evenly matched, and watching the vote slowly play out is excruciating. We're just as torn about what we want as the players are. On one hand, now that we have an idea of what's in store, we aren't sure if we can handle another eight episodes of this. How dark can things get? On the other, we're absolutely hooked after those first 60 minutes. We don't want the ride to end, but we aren't entirely comfortable with our eagerness for more carnage. 

Also, it's more than just the drawn out process that makes the vote so unnerving to sit through. It's anticipation for the end. Would the masterminds behind the games really let everyone go just because they voted for it? You're on the edge of your seat through the entire vote, and when the players ultimately choose to go, you breathe a sigh of relief ... and disappointment.

Eventually, with life outside so miserable, most players return to the games. They get back into the swing of things in the third episode, "The Man with the Umbrella," and by the time the second game starts, their mood is almost upbeat. Even after watching half their number slaughtered in the first game, the players decide a slim chance is better than none, and we're ready to cheer them on. They start making friends and forming alliances, with Gi-hun teaming up with his childhood pal, Cho Sang-woo (Park Hae-soo), his savior, Ali, and the elderly Player 001 (O Yeong-su), who doesn't remember his own name.

It feels hopeful and good. And then, before the game starts, Sang-woo ruins it. The players enter a room and are told to line up in front of one of four shapes. It's quickly apparent that Sang-woo has figured out the game, but he doesn't tell his teammates. Instead, he encourages each one to choose a different shape. He chooses first, of course.

It turns out to be a very bad idea for some of them, but it's those first few minutes that make us really anxious. We know Sang-woo makes a calculated decision to betray his team, but unlike him, we have no idea what's to come. His momentary flashes of conscience just make it worse, as it's clear he expects disaster — but still does nothing. Ultimately, everyone survives, but our trust for Sang-woo doesn't.

In the sixth episode, "Gganbu," we come to realize that one of the most disturbing games to watch is also one of the least violent games to play: Marbles. Before the game begins, the players are dumped in a room and told to pair up. They split off into twos with friends, loved ones, and those they think will offer an advantage — except for Gi-hun. He feels bad no one wants to take Player 001, so he decides to save him from almost certain death for being the odd man out.

Then they're told what the rules of the game are, and the cruel irony of Gi-hun's kindness sets in. The pairs won't be playing marbles against other teams to see who survives. They'll be playing against each other. "Squid Game" takes the time to make us care about the main characters, tricking us into thinking they might just come out of this together. Instead, they'll be killing each other. 

It isn't just the main characters who make this so hard to watch, though. One of the most poignant moments comes from Player 069 and Player 070. The look on their faces as the husband and wife team realize that not only will one of them die, the other one will be responsible for their death is heartbreaking. The rest of the episode may be an exercise in dread, but watching the players react to the rule twist is pure agony.

The only word for the "game" in the seventh episode, "VIP," is diabolical. Both contestants and viewers are mentally and emotionally exhausted after the gut-wrenching game of marbles. We've barely caught our breath before the remaining players are told to pick a number between one and 16. They're then led to a bridge made up of two rows of glass panels.

The players have to make it across, jumping from glass panel to glass panel, starting with number one and working their way back to number 16: Gi-hun. One of the panels in each row is tempered glass and can hold the weight of multiple people. The other is normal glass. It shatters upon contact. There's no skill to it, just pure dumb luck. And as the third player calculates that his odds of guessing the right panel across the entire remaining bridge are one in 32,768, it's clear that for all but the last few players, their luck is out.

One by one the players try crossing, pushed on by the ones behind them even when they're too afraid to go. And one by one, they die. Every part of the game, from the sound of the glass breaking to the broken, mangled bodies lined up on the ground far below, is sickening to watch. This game wasn't designed to test the players. It was just designed to thin their numbers. Sixteen players enter the bridge game. Only three make it out.

With everyone else having plummeted to their deaths, only three main characters — Sang-woo, Gun-ho, and Kang Sae-byeok (Jung Ho-yeon) — remain. It's almost a relief that they, at least, have made it to the end, despite Sang-woo becoming more and more problematic as the series goes on. They even survived the remaining glass panels exploding, sending shards of glass flying towards them in what could have been, but mercifully wasn't, a deadly rain.

At least that's what you're led to think. Back in the player's quarters for the eighth episode, "Front Man," the survivors receive boxes with new clothes and are told to change. Sae-byeok shuffles around as if in shock. The feeling is mutual. But when she enters the bathroom, it's obvious her state is far more dire. She's panting, her hand wrapped around a huge glass shard, working up the nerve to yank it out of her bloody abdomen.

"Squid Game" mercifully doesn't show the extraction, but we hear it and get a glimpse of the aftermath as the shard falls from Sae-byeok's nerveless fingers into the sink. Our stomachs churn as she tries to patch up the gaping wound, but it's not just the gore that's upsetting — it's also the realization that Sae-byeok likely won't be strong enough to survive the last game. "VIPS" tricks the audience into thinking three people made it out from the bridge alive. It turns out it was really only two.