Squid Game is a thrilling ride. A bunch of folks enters a deadly game. Stakes? Life or death. It digs into big issues like wealth gaps and survival instincts. People love it for its nail-biting twists and deep characters. It shines with sharp storytelling and stunning visuals. Performances? Top-notch. You will not want to miss this show.

Meet the characters from Squid Game

Seong Gi-hun

Seong Gi-hun is the messy, utterly human center of the chaos — lovable screw-up who keeps making the worst choices but somehow you keep rooting for him. He laughs too loud, cries harder, bets on everything (even things that make no sense), and the way he fumbles through moral decisions is somehow endearing. He’s protective in a scattershot way, kind of like a puppy wearing a suit, and also kind of exasperating when he won’t take the obvious route. He hoards snacks like it’s a survival skill and sometimes forgets his own phone number — or maybe that was one time, I can’t remember.

Cho Sang-woo

Cho Sang-woo is the coldly brilliant guy who used to be the golden student and now carries that pressure like armor, sharp and heavy. He thinks ten moves ahead, judges everything like a math problem, and then gets eaten alive by pride and panic — tragic and infuriating at the same time. He can be ruthless, pragmatic, and weirdly tender in flashes you almost missed, which makes him more complicated than a one-word villain. Also, rumor has it he likes classical music or at least pretends to so people listen — not that I’d volunteer that info loudly.

Hwang Jun-ho

Hwang Jun-ho is the dogged cop type who sneaks around with notebooks and a face like trouble, obsessed with truth in a way that becomes kind of beautiful. He’s stoic and methodical but occasionally cracks and becomes this suddenly tender person who will stare at a photograph until it blinks — okay not literally, but you see what I mean. He’s all patience and hidden panic, very much the “I’ll find you” kind of guy, and you believe him. Also, I’m convinced he owns a pen he never lets anyone borrow, which feels oddly specific but true.

Kang Sae-byeok

Kang Sae-byeok is ice-edged and low-key poetic, a defector who trusts few and survives by measuring every risk. She’s quiet but communicates like a whole novel with a single look, fiercely practical and secretly sentimental (don’t tell her I said that). She keeps little comforts like lip balm or a lucky hair-tie stashed away, like a squirrel for feelings, and she’s faster than you expect. Tough, sharp, wary — and also the person who would steal your last cookie and then apologize in the exact right way.

Oh Il-nam

Oh Il-nam is the tiny old man who shuffles and hums and seems fragile, but there’s a mischievous glint that makes you doubt the first impression. He offers snacks and small smiles and you want to protect him, but there’s also cleverness wrapped in that frail body that keeps you guessing. He’s part grandfather, part uncanny oracle, sweet and cryptic and occasionally a little frustratingly inscrutable. Also, he definitely misplaces his glasses like ten times a day — or maybe that’s everyone’s grandfather, I don’t know.

Jang Deok-su

Jang Deok-su is the loud, violent hothead who solves most problems with his fists and a terrifying grin; think bluster with muscles. He’s boastful, aggressively crude, prone to bullying and then panicking when things stop going his way — big bark, sometimes small cowardice. He’s the kind of person who will threaten you in a hallway and then call his mom at night, so equal parts menace and human mess. Also, for reasons I can’t explain, he’s oddly obsessed with chewing gum — like a nervous tic.

Abdul Ali

Abdul Ali is the enormous-soft-hearted worker whose loyalty is just gigantic and a little tragic. He’s steady, hardworking, the person who sacrifices quietly for family and believes in people until that belief gets him into trouble. He laughs easily, hums sometimes, and keeps a tiny photo of his kids tucked away like a talisman, which makes you ache. Strong as an ox but kind in a way that’s almost old-fashioned, and honestly he makes everyone else look worse by comparison.

Han Mi-nyeo

Han Mi-nyeo is pure theatrical chaos — dramatic, slippery, and delightfully unpredictable; she’ll switch lanes and allies like it’s a hobby. She’s loud, dramatic, cunning, and also weirdly emotive in tiny moments that make you go, wait, what was that? She loves attention, plays people like puppets, and then throws a tantrum like it’s performance art. Trusting her is a very bad idea and also secretly exhilarating; she definitely keeps a tiny compact and maybe a hidden diary, maybe not.