Greetings, Fiction Igniters!
Let’s talk about one of the hottest topics in storytelling today—representation. Before you roll your eyes at the billionth debate over “forced inclusion,” let me introduce you to Player 120 from Squid Game Season 2, a masterclass on how to do inclusion right. This character—a trans woman—is proof that representation doesn’t have to feel tacked on or preachy. Instead, it can enhance a story’s narrative, theme, and emotional resonance in a seamless and natural way.
Grab your metaphorical popcorn, my Literary Pyromaniacs, because we’re diving into why Player 120 is a shining example of meaningful inclusion and what lessons we can steal—uh, I mean, learn—from her for our stories.
A Quick Overview of Player 120’s Brilliance
From her first moment on screen, Player 120 feels real. You’re not introduced to her with a giant flashing sign that says, “Look! A Trans Character!” Instead, her identity is revealed gradually and in a way that’s deeply tied to her backstory and the story’s broader themes of survival, sacrifice, and human connection. Her trans identity isn’t just a checkbox—it’s a critical layer of who she is and how she navigates the nightmarish world of the Squid Game.
It’s not about politics here, Fiction Igniters—it’s about character. Her journey resonates with universal struggles: seeking acceptance, fighting for her dreams, and finding strength in the face of impossible odds. When she triumphs, you cheer. When she falters, your heart breaks. That’s storytelling magic.
Lesson 1: Make Identity Part of the Plot, Not Just the Pitch
Great writers don’t slap labels on their characters just to make headlines. Instead, they weave every aspect of the character’s identity into the fabric of the story. Think of Atticus Finch in To Kill a Mockingbird. His role as a lawyer isn’t incidental—it’s essential to the story’s exploration of morality and justice. Similarly, Player 120’s trans identity isn’t a footnote; it’s deeply tied to her vulnerability and resilience.
For example, her struggles with acceptance mirror the brutal alienation the Squid Game contestants face as they’re dehumanized and stripped of individuality. Her ability to remain true to herself, even in a world that tries to erase her, becomes one of the season’s most inspiring arcs. And isn’t that the kind of emotional payoff we want in our own writing?
Actionable Tip: When crafting characters with diverse identities, ask yourself, How does this aspect of their identity deepen the story’s theme or conflict? If it doesn’t, it’s time to dig deeper or reconsider its role.
Lesson 2: Root for Relatability, Not “Relatability™”
You know those characters that scream, “Love me! I’m quirky and different!” Yeah, Player 120 is not one of those. Her relatability doesn’t come from overused tropes or heavy-handed writing. Instead, it’s born from her humanity. She’s flawed, brave, funny, and heartbreakingly real.
Consider another example: Ripley from Alien. Her character wasn’t written with a “strong female lead” sticker on her forehead. She was simply a person trying to survive in unimaginable circumstances, and that’s why she resonates with everyone.
Player 120 follows the same principle. Her trans identity doesn’t overshadow her other traits—it complements them. Her sharp wit, fierce loyalty, and moments of vulnerability make her someone you’d want to share a bowl of dalgona candy with (assuming you survive the game, of course).
Actionable Tip: Don’t write a “label.” Write a person. Focus on universal emotions—fear, love, ambition—and let those shine through. That’s what readers connect with.
Lesson 3: Thematic Alignment is Key
Squid Game isn’t just a blood-soaked thrill ride; it’s a cutting critique of social inequality and human desperation. Player 120’s arc aligns beautifully with these themes. Her backstory highlights the economic and social hurdles she faced as a trans woman, adding another layer of depth to the show’s exploration of systemic injustice.
This isn’t just a Squid Game thing, folks. Look at Huck Finn in The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. His journey with Jim isn’t just about rafting down the Mississippi—it’s a commentary on slavery, freedom, and morality. Player 120’s inclusion works because it serves the same dual purpose: personal story and thematic resonance.
Actionable Tip: Ask yourself, How does this character’s journey reflect or challenge the story’s main theme? If the answer is unclear, keep refining.
Lesson 4: Audiences Crave Depth, Not Decoration
Here’s a hot take: audiences aren’t tired of diverse characters; they’re tired of shallow ones. What makes Player 120 so compelling is that she’s not just there. Her story is rich, nuanced, and integral to the plot. She’s not a rainbow sticker slapped onto the script—she’s the beating heart of some of the season’s most powerful moments.
Want another example? How about Jaime Lannister from Game of Thrones? On paper, he’s a privileged jerk. But his backstory, inner conflict, and growth turn him into one of the most beloved (and hated) characters in the series. That’s the kind of depth we’re talking about.
Actionable Tip: Spend time fleshing out your characters’ inner lives. What are their dreams, fears, and contradictions? The more specific you get, the more universal they become.
The Flamekeeper’s Take
When done right, inclusion doesn’t just “work”—it elevates the story. Player 120 is proof that diverse characters can be powerful, meaningful, and unforgettable when written with care. So, Fiction Igniters, the next time you’re building a character, think of her. Ask yourself, Am I writing someone people will root for, cry for, and remember? Because when you do that, you’re not just igniting stories—you’re setting the world on fire.
Until next time, Fiction Igniters: don’t write, ignite!
