What Is The Main Message Of “Squid Game”?

You ever watch Squid Game and think, “Wow, this is just like my Monday morning—except instead of fighting traffic, I’m fighting for my last ounce of dignity and caffeine?” I mean, let’s face it—some days feel like a survival game, and I don’t even get a cash prize at the end.

So, what’s the deal? Is Squid Game just a really intense version of recess, or is it trying to tell us something deeper? Spoiler alert: It’s saying a lot—and none of it is comforting.

Squid Game Or Real Life? The Brutal Truth About Money

At first, it just looks like a crazy survival game where people are literally betting their lives for a shot at fortune.

But honestly—this isn’t just about the money. It’s about how the system is one giant cosmic joke, and we’re all the punchline. Peel back the layers, and Squid Game isn’t just a thriller.

It’s that gut-punch moment when your bank app asks if you ‘recognize this purchase’—and the only thing you don’t recognize is financial stability.

The kind that makes you side-eye your paycheck, reconsider your overpriced coffee habit, and wonder if we’re all just contestants in a never-ending survival match.

The kind that makes you side-eye your paycheck, reconsider your overpriced coffee habit, and wonder if we’re all just contestants in a never-ending survival match.

To fully grasp Squid Game, it helps to understand South Korea’s unique economic landscape.

The country’s rapid transformation from post-war poverty to a global economic powerhouse—often called the ‘Miracle on the Han River’—came with intense societal pressure.

Success is measured by wealth, education, and job stability. And those who fall behind? They often struggle to climb back up. This extreme competition has created a harsh reality where financial debt isn’t just a setback—it can determine your entire future.

This show doesn’t play nice.

It throws reality in your face like a splash of ice water, daring you to do something about it.

From the very first episode, we meet Gi-hun, our flawed but relatable protagonist. Drowning in debt, struggling to provide for his daughter, and just one bad decision away from complete disaster.

And he’s not alone.

Every contestant in Squid Game is desperate—drowning in debt, betrayed by the system, or crushed under society’s expectations.

It’s not just about the prize money.

It’s about proving you can survive when the world is doing everything it can to knock you down. And honestly? Watching it, I had to ask myself—am I really that far from making desperate choices too?

That’s because Squid Game is basically a documentary in disguise.

In South Korea, economic struggles aren’t just a plot device—they’re an everyday battle. The country has one of the highest household debt levels in the world, and many people work exhausting hours just to stay afloat.

The pressure to succeed leads to high rates of burnout. For some, financial ruin feels like an inescapable trap. It’s a brutal wake-up call, showing just how far people will go when they’re left with nothing to lose.

Who’s Really Running The Game? Spoiler: It’s Not You

Let’s break it down.

Who’s the real villain here? And no, it’s not the nightmare-inducing robot doll (though she deserves her own horror movie).

It’s not just Front Man or the VIPs pulling the strings. The real villain? The system itself.

The game is rigged—like that claw machine at the arcade that lets you almost win before snatching your dreams away.

We’ve all had those moments where it feels like the universe is running on chaos mode just to see us struggle.

We’ve all had those moments where it feels like the universe is running on chaos mode just to see us struggle.

At least in Squid Game, they’re upfront about it.

The rich sit comfortably in their VIP boxes, sipping drinks while the poor are tossed into the arena to fight for scraps.

It’s brutal, unfair, and eerily familiar—like watching a rigged game where you already know the winner.

The ultra-wealthy VIPs treat the suffering of the contestants as entertainment—just as the elite in the real world profit off the struggles of the working class.

It’s a not-so-subtle reminder that capitalism, at its worst, turns survival into a competition.

Some people are born into wealth, lounging in penthouses, sipping champagne like it’s an Olympic sport.

Others? They’re stuck outside, knocking on doors that were never meant to open for them.

Would You Risk It All Or Keep Your Soul?

Squid Game doesn’t just ask, “What would you do for money?”

It asks, “Who do you become when survival is on the line?”

Throughout the series, we see contestants forming alliances, betraying friends, and making gut-wrenching choices.

Do you play fair and risk losing, or do you abandon morality just to stay alive?

Gi-hun’s journey really hits home.

Despite all the chaos, he clings to his humanity—helping others, showing kindness, and refusing to let greed swallow him whole. 

Despite all the chaos, he clings to his humanity—helping others, showing kindness, and refusing to let greed swallow him whole. The show slaps you with the question: If you hustle your way to the top but lose every part of yourself along the way… what’s left?

Congrats, you’re rich but emotionally bankrupt. Hopefully, that mansion comes with a built-in therapist, because a fat bank account means nothing if your soul is out here running on fumes.

Free Will Or Just A Fancy Trap?

South Korea’s intense work culture also plays into this theme.

Many workers experience gapjil, a hierarchical power imbalance where bosses and those in authority exploit their employees, making it nearly impossible to leave toxic work environments.

Similarly, the N-po generation (a term referring to young Koreans who have ‘given up’ on relationships, homeownership, and financial independence due to economic hardships) reflects the reality that, for many, the choices available aren’t really choices at all.

Here’s one of the biggest mind tricks Squid Game pulls: the illusion of choice.

Technically, every contestant chooses to be there. But did they really have a choice? When poverty, debt, and desperation back you into a corner, is walking away truly an option?

This mirrors the way many people in real life feel trapped—whether it’s in crushing debt, toxic work environments, or unfair social structures.

The game may look voluntary, but in reality, the players were already stuck in a system where losing was inevitable.

The Real Lesson Squid Game Wants You To Learn

At its core, Squid Game is a brutal commentary on inequality, power, and the dark side of human nature.

It forces us to confront the harsh realities of capitalism, question the fairness of our own society, and ask ourselves: If the game is rigged, how do we escape it?

It forces us to confront the harsh realities of capitalism, question the fairness of our own society, and ask ourselves: If the game is rigged, how do we escape it?

Maybe the real Squid Game is just… life. The never-ending hustle, the rigged rat race, the capitalist Hunger Games we never even auditioned for. And guess what?

No one even gave us the rulebook. We’ve been playing all along, whether we wanted to or not. If that realization just made you stare off into the void, questioning all your life choices—congrats, you’re one of us now.

Grab a snack, we’ll spiral together.

What do you think? Would you survive, or would you be like me—eliminated in the first round because I was too busy overanalyzing the hidden meanings?

Drop a comment and let’s talk Squid Game! And if you love diving deep into K-drama messages, hit that subscribe button. No life-or-death games required.