Squid Game players, prepared for action. Photo credit: Netflix
Introducing the DMCBH’s Neuroscience in Film series, where we take a closer look at the science behind what we watch on screen. In this series, our researchers share their expertise on neuroscience topics featured in popular TV shows and movies.
Squid Game at a glance
Squid Game is a South Korean survival drama where hundreds of cash-strapped individuals accept a mysterious invitation to compete in children’s games for a chance to win a life-changing amount of money. The series follows Seong Gi-hun, a gambling addict drowning in debt, who joins the game alongside other desperate individuals. The players soon discover that losing a game results in death, with each elimination contributing ₩100 million (CAD$99,988) to the potential ₩45.6 billion (CAD$45.58 million) grand prize. Based on classic Korean children’s games, the series becomes a brutal fight for survival, with the last player standing taking home the jackpot. Along the way, it explores themes of desperation, inequality, and the lengths people will go to in order to survive.
Why don’t they stop the games?
Throughout the series, it’s emphasized that players have the choice to vote and leave. If the majority opts to stop, they are free to walk away. In Season 1, leaving meant forfeiting the accumulated prize money. But in Season 2, a new clause was introduced: all players could leave with their fair portion of the jackpot. While far from ₩45.6 billion, it was still money — and, more importantly, survival. So why didn’t they take it?
Dr. Catharine Winstanley, a behavioural neuroscientist who studies impulse control and gambling, offers some insight.
Thrill and desperation
She explains that part of it comes down to the thrill — the excitement of putting everything on the line and taking a chance. Some players even seemed to relish the dangerous games, finding genuine joy in narrowly escaping death and winning.
Dr. Winstanley also notes that many participants were so deeply in debt that smaller amounts of money wouldn’t make a difference. Take Player 100, for example: an elderly man facing ₩10 billion in debt, clinging to his desperate catchphrase, “One more game!”
Inflated sense of control
Another factor is the illusion of control. Players often believe they have more power over the outcome than they really do. In truth, most of the games rely on luck and guesswork rather than skill — yet players convince themselves they can beat the odds.
In Season 2, the Six-Legged Pentathlon highlighted this perfectly. Teams of five are tied together and set out to conquer a series of children’s games — Ddakji, Flying Stone, Gong-gi, Spinning Top, and Jegi. At first, it seemed like strategy could win the day. Players carefully picked teammates, divided tasks, and reassured one another that teamwork would carry them through.
But once the clock started, reality hit. Coordination faltered, panic set in, and even the strongest alliances began to crack. What looked like careful planning quickly dissolved into chaos — a reminder that in Squid Game, no amount of strategy can outplay chance.
And, of course, as Dr. Winstanley reminds us, there’s always greed.
What about you?
Would you take the safe payout and walk away — or risk it all for the jackpot?
