Since its release on September 17, 2021, the Korean drama series Squid Game has become a global hit—receiving critical acclaim, topping Netflix’s charts in 66 countries, and sparking crucial conversations about our society’s relationship with money.
The show follows Seong Gi-Hun, a debt-ridden man who lost custody of his daughter after a divorce. Along with hundreds of other players, he competes in six deadly games in hopes of winning a staggering 45.6 billion won (roughly 38.7 million US dollars). Through nine episodes that are just as gory as they are heart-wrenching, both the audience and Gi-Hun witness the erosion of morality in each of the players. They are corrupted by the conditions of a life-or-death game, turning against each other and stabbing each other in the backs—sometimes literally.
Even at surface level, it is impossible to ignore the show’s focus on the hardships of the impoverished. The conflict is driven by the characters’ individual struggles: Gi-Hun’s inability to provide for his daughter, Sang-Woo’s fight to keep his mother’s store, Sae-Byeok’s search for her lost family, and of course, the colossal debts looming over each of their heads. It comes as no surprise that Squid Game contains heavy social commentary.
However, it may not be obvious on the first viewing that the game itself is a metaphor for human society. Specifically, it’s meant to represent a capitalist society, the more severe effects of which director Hwang Dong-Hyuk witnessed first-hand. Hwang’s own life experiences as a native South Korean directly inspired main characters Gi-Hun and Sang-Woo, as well as the series itself. In an interview with Variety magazine, Hwang said that he “wanted to write a story that was an allegory or fable about modern capitalist society” but that he also wanted the story “to use the kind of characters” that one would experience in real life.
But how can such a brutal game be based on reality?
(Light spoilers ahead, in case you’re among the seven people who haven’t seen the show.)
Desperation is one of the main themes that Hwang uses to illustrate the exploitation of the working class. It’s the reason that the players participate in the game in the first place. Ultimately, each of them makes the same decision—that the brutality of the game pales in comparison to whatever awaits them in the outside world, and the chance of a brighter future, however slim, is worth the deadly risks of playing. It’s the reason that characters who we might otherwise deem “good” sabotage fellow players to get ahead. It’s the reason that, even after being given the chance to leave, most of the players choose to stay. It’s the reason for the existence of the game itself. The game relies on wealth’s veneer of hope to lure in desperate targets. It builds this hope by constantly reminding the players of their goal, converting casualties to currency at the end of every round.
The characters’ struggles, which reflect real-life problems, make it easy to compare their world to ours. Gi-Hun, Sang-Woo, and Sae-Byeok are spurred on by a lack of resources and the pressures of inescapable debt—outcomes of a system designed to exploit workers. They are driven to keep competing for survival and to succeed at any cost, incentivized to play the game and go through life with a zero-sum mentality (the idea that one person’s gain is another’s loss). Both in the game and in the outside world, they are powerless to band together. Instead, they see themselves as individuals who must fight to survive, even if it means destroying others in the process.
The illusions of choice and fairness are also central aspects of the game. In episode one (“Red Light, Green Light”), the game’s three clauses are established, with the last one being: “The games may be terminated if the majority agrees.” This rule is what allows the players to go home after a vote. However, when given the option, the vast majority of people choose to return and keep playing. 93 percent of surviving players, including those who initially voted to leave, choose to risk their lives again. After all that they’ve witnessed and experienced, why would they subject themselves to the game a second time?
Following a revisit to the outside world, Player #001 declares, “Now that I’m back out, I realize… It’s a worse hell out here.”
This moment ties back into the players’ desperation. It is with the presence of that desperation that choice becomes an illusion. For those in dire situations, the only option is to keep playing the game. The third clause fools the players into thinking that they can vote their way out of injustice when in reality, their situations will likely never change. They end up being drawn back into the systems that beat them down.
The illusion of fairness is highlighted most notably in episode five (aptly titled “A Fair World”), where the Front Man who runs the game says, “…the most crucial element of this place [is] equality. Everyone is equal in these games. Players compete in a fair game under the same conditions. …we offer them one last chance to fight on equal footing and win.” The Front Man does not acknowledge the lopsided odds of success for players who are elderly or disabled. He makes no mention of the advantages granted to those who are physically strong. Despite presenting the game as fair, he does not see or care for the plight of those below him as long as he is in a position of power.
All of these elements mirror aspects of our society: workers that have been pitted against each other, the false hope of success, the unbreakable cycle of poverty… These dark concepts sit at the core of the series, constantly prompting viewers to make connections and see the big, bleak picture. Squid Game’s record-breaking popularity could simply indicate a widespread love for gory television. However, it also proves the universality of the themes in the show. The harm caused by exploitative systems isn’t limited to South Korea—it’s a global phenomenon that many audiences can relate to, and that is what makes the series so powerful. Whether you agree with Hwang’s message or not, it is undeniable that the world Squid Game depicts is far from mere fiction.
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