Why Is It Called The “Squid Game”?

I watched Squid Game and immediately thought, “Wow, childhood games were supposed to be fun. Not a high-stakes anxiety marathon where losing means, well … let’s not talk about it.”

Who decided that childhood games needed a terror movie makeover? Because I have questions.

At some point—probably while clutching my blanket like a life vest and questioning my faith in humanity—I had a thought:

“Wait… why is this even called Squid Game?” Is there an actual squid involved, or am I missing something?” Did Netflix just pull two random words out of a hat, or is there an actual, mind-blowing reason behind the name?

Spoiler alert: The meaning behind it is way darker than you think.

Wait … Squid Game Isn’t About Actual Squids?!?

Let’s clear this up—Squid Game is not about actual squids battling for dominance in the deep sea. (Although, I wouldn’t mind watching that show too.)

The name comes from an old-school Korean children’s game called ojingeo (squid game), which was all the rage among kids in the 70s and 80s. Hwang Dong-hyuk, the mastermind behind the series, chose this name because the final round of the show features a deadly, high-stakes version of this very game.

The game gets its name because the playing field, drawn in the dirt, sort of resembles a squid.

The game gets its name because the playing field, drawn in the dirt, sort of resembles a squid.

If you squint, tilt your head, and use the same level of imagination that lets you see shapes in the clouds. Sounds innocent, right?

But this game? It’s anything but easy. Players are split into two teams—attackers and defenders. The attackers? They have to hop on one foot at times while trying to invade the defenders’ territory. If they succeed, they win.

If not? Well, in the childhood version, the worst that happened was a scraped knee and a bruised ego.

But in Squid Game?

Losing doesn’t mean sulking on the sidelines while your friends keep playing.

It means an immediate and permanent game over. No extra lives, no respawns, just existential regret. No rematch, no do-overs … and, well, the obvious.

A Fun Childhood Game … Now With Extra Trauma!

Hwang Dong-hyuk had to convince Netflix to keep Squid Game as the title. They worried global audiences wouldn’t ‘get it.’

But he stood his ground. And for good reason.

It perfectly symbolizes the brutal, high-stakes world of Squid Game itself.

Think about it.

This is a game where you either strategize like your rent is due tomorrow (because, spoiler: it basically is), or you get booted faster than a free trial subscription expiring.

This is a game where you either strategize like your rent is due tomorrow (because, spoiler: it basically is), or you get booted faster than a free trial subscription expiring. If you’re not strong, fast, or just ridiculously lucky, you’re out.

No second chances.

Sound familiar? That’s because Squid Game (the show, not the playground version) is basically real-world capitalism on steroids.

Survival depends on how well you outmaneuver others. And that’s why the final round isn’t random.

It’s Squid Game itself, closing the loop between childhood nostalgia and grown-up survival. It ties everything together—from Gi-hun’s innocent childhood memories to the gut-wrenching reality of his adult struggles.

What Squid Game Says About Life In Korea (And Why It Hurts)!

The show takes this childhood favorite and twists it into something hauntingly symbolic.

In Korea, competition isn’t just a thing—it’s practically ingrained in the national DNA. The country’s rapid economic rise, known as the ‘Miracle on the Han River,’ fueled an intense culture of hard work, academic excellence, and social mobility.

But with this came immense pressure to succeed. From the moment kids enter school, they’re thrown into a hyper-competitive system.

Success is measured by rankings, grades, and the prestige of the university they get into. Parents pour money into private tutoring, known as hagwons.

Students endure grueling study schedules, often sacrificing sleep and social lives just to stay ahead. High-stakes exams? Job hunting? Keeping up social status?

In Korea, it all feels like an endless survival game. The CSAT (College Scholastic Ability Test) is so intense that flights are grounded, and police escort students running late to their test sites. Landing a job at a chaebol (a major conglomerate like Samsung or Hyundai) is like hitting the jackpot.

But even then, employees deal with cutthroat office politics and extreme work pressure. And if you lose?

No masked guys will be chasing you down, but you will get ghosted by society while your bank account silently mocks you. Honestly? Equally terrifying.

The pressure to succeed has led to stress, burnout, and even alarming rates of mental health struggles in South Korea.

The title Squid Game isn’t just a quirky childhood reference. It’s a brutally honest metaphor for the way life works. Some people start ahead, while others claw their way to the top, hoping not to get knocked out in the process.

The title Squid Game isn’t just a quirky childhood reference. It’s a brutally honest metaphor for the way life works. Some people start ahead, while others claw their way to the top, hoping not to get knocked out in the process.

It’s the world we live in—some get a head start, while others have to fight twice as hard just to stay in the game.

Be Honest—Would You Even Survive Squid Game?!

Now that we’ve cracked the mystery behind the name, here’s the real question—would you make it past the first round, or would you be the poor soul eliminated in the first episode, crying in a corner before even understanding the rules?

Me?

I’d be out before I even realized the game started. One step, one mistake, and boom—eliminated. Probably while still adjusting my shoelaces. Honestly?

I’d probably be too busy having an existential crisis about the deeper meaning of the game while everyone else is actually trying to stay alive.

What about you? Would you win, or would you be emotionally spiraling with me from the sidelines?

Drop a comment, and let’s talk Squid Game! And if you love breaking down K-dramas as much as I do, don’t forget to hit that subscribe button. No life-or-death games required.