Squid Game Season 2: When Hype Overshadows Heart

April 4, 2025

By: Eva Zhong

Courtesy of Jonas Augustin via Unsplash.com

When Season 1 of Squid Game South, a South Korean thriller series, first launched in 2021, it wasn’t simply another Netflix hit, it was a cultural phenomenon. With its gripping commentary on capitalism, refreshing visuals, and highly evocative storytelling, the show skyrocketed to become Netflix's most-watched series, with Nielsen reporting 4.9 billion minutes watched between Dec. 23 and Dec. 29. The show’s initial virality was largely organic, as seen through social media memes, iconic halloween costumes of green tracksuits, and global word-of-mouth, giving Netflix a massive hit without heavy promotion. 

Instead of letting the narrative speak for itself in Season 2, there has been a noticeable shift toward more aggressive marketing, including flashy billboards, TikTok advertisements, high-profile brand collaborations, and immersive installations. While the numbers seem promising in terms of audience watch time, the reception tells a slightly different story. Season 2 got mixed reviews and saw a noticeable dip in favorability —  Season 1 had an 84% audience rating on Rotten Tomatoes, while Season 2 landed at a lukewarm 62%. I have to ask, did Netflix’s aggressive marketing fuel excitement but also possible exhaustion? And did Squid Game’s once-organic appeal start to feel manufactured and forced over time?

I would like to preface by saying that Squid Game’s marketing campaigns for Season 2 are not without their strengths. The global buzz they generated is undeniable and the experiential guerilla strategies — like pop-up stores and surprise installations — are undeniably engaging. Nonetheless, I would still like to critique a dire weakness of this push for attention and virality — inauthenticity. As someone who has watched both seasons, I can say that I did definitely enjoy the first season far more than the second. Though the narrative and plot played a large part in this preference, the marketing strategies employed leading up to season two actually deterred my viewership to an extent. Season 1 succeeded precisely because its rise felt organic. It earned its audience by being unflinchingly raw and unexpected. Season 2 tried to replicate that reach with manufactured virality, relying on marketing mechanics rather than narrative depth.

Courtesy of Anil Baki Durmus via Unsplash.com

When it comes to marketing for visual media and entertainment goods, the fundamental purpose is to extend the brand — to exemplify its core message, tone, and emotional resonance. Marketing is not just about sheer visibility, it’s about authentic storytelling across all platforms. For a show like Squid Game, whose brand is built on this dark critique of capitalistic inequality and human desperation, the marketing strategy should — at least to an extent — reflect these values with thoughtful alignment. Instead, I feel as though Season 2’s rollout was tone-deaf at best and clearly contradictory at worst. For example, former Kpop group BIGBANG member T.O.P, the South Korean rapper portraying the douche-bag player 230 was seen making cute finger hearts in promotion videos. I remember opening TikTok and seeing Squid Game ads everywhere I went. Whether it was a short trailer video inserted into my For You Page or different graphics popping up in the comment section, I was constantly reminded that the show was “coming soon”.  But the problem was, I already knew that. Netflix has already established such a strong brand and loyal following with the first season that they did not need to constantly remind people to build anticipation. The excitement was, truth be told, always there. After seeing more than a dozen Squid Game ads while scrolling through social media in one sitting, I got tired and, frankly, slightly annoyed. 

The growing issue of social media fatigue is nothing new. In 2024, consumers were exposed to around 6,000 ads per day. As a result, audiences feel overwhelmed, more selective, and highly woke to inauthentic marketing tactics. This leads to ad fatigue, where users become numb or annoyed by constant promotional messaging — exactly what I experienced with Squid Game. I felt as though I’d already seen enough of the show before even watching Season 2. Over-promotion is a large flaw, where repetitive content may actually subvert initial anticipation with viewers. Netflix tried to make Squid Game more relatable through these social media inserts, which can be effective in moderation, but when done on such a large scale, it risks feeling out of touch or overly corporate. Trying too hard to be viral or “relatable” can alienate younger audiences who are familiar with navigating social media landscapes — a target audience segment for Squid Game. 

Courtesy of Sung Jin Cho via Unsplash.com

Squid Game Season 2 launched with an aggressive slate of brand collaborations that aimed to capitalize on the show’s iconic imagery and global popularity. One of the most prominent was a partnership with Puma, which released a full collection including tracksuits modeled after the players’ uniforms. Household name Crocs debuted a green clog with custom Squid Game charms, and Korean beauty retailer Olive Young dropped skincare and makeup collections referencing key visuals such as the “Red Light, Green Light" doll Young-hee. More surprisingly, Johnnie Walker launched a limited-edition Black Label whisky with numbered bottles referencing the players. Viewers can’t help but notice that these collaborations, though visually engaging and conceptually creative, leaned heavily into consumerism — sparking debate about whether they undercut the show’s core message critiquing capitalist excess.

Furthermore, I feel as though some of these brands’ playfulness clashes strongly with the show’s thematic gravitas. Beyond that, here in the city, there is a Squid Game: The Experience NYC immersive gaming space that allows participants to physically play the games featured in the series. Though this is exciting and undoubtedly fun, it speaks volumes about Netflix’s aggressive attempts to “cash-out” on the show’s IP under its new marketing scheme. A TIME article by Judy Berman summarizes the fault of this marketing approach perfectly. What began as a searing critique of capitalism became a commodified spectacle — oversaturated with branded merch, immersive pop-ups, and influencer spin-offs that reduced its anti-capitalist narrative to entertainment. Instead of amplifying the story’s impact, marketing turned Squid Game into the very system it set out to criticize, prioritizing profit over purpose.

Though captivating and thrilling, Squid Game is ultimately a show about the devastating and emotionally raw aspects of the human condition under inequality. Netflix’s aggressive marketing strategies creates an inauthentic disconnect, and this disconnect matters.  Audiences today are media-savvy; they crave authenticity. When a show like Squid Game, which thrived off the emotional devastation of episodes like “Gganbu,” suddenly starts appearing in snackable branded content or gamified experiences, the dissonance becomes hard to ignore. The marketing turned what was once a haunting social commentary into a spectacle — a product to consume rather than a message to sit with. And when marketing contradicts the essence of the brand, it doesn’t just confuse the audience — it dilutes emotional investment and undermines credibility.

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Eva Zhong is a junior studying media, culture, and communication at NYU Steinhardt. She enjoys writing, from poetry to social commentary, and will go on existential tangents any chance she gets.