Squid Game: 12 Hidden Details You Definitely Missed

A lot of theories have popped up about Squid Game, and one of the most popular ones is a theory surrounding the red and blue envelopes presented by the recruiter at the beginning of the series. It's so popular, in fact, that the director actually spoke up about it, confirming that this theory is not true.

The theory posited that the red and blue envelopes provided during the recruiter's ddakji game would decide the character's role in the games, whether they'd become a guard or a player. This was based on the idea that the guards were in a similar position to the players, trapped and forced to follow orders on threat of death.

However, director Hwang Dong-hyuk has since confirmed that the colours were actually chosen based on an old folk tale, in which a ghost in a bathroom would offer a person a red or blue tissue, forcing them to choose one. Unfortunately, whether you choose red or blue, the ghost kills you either way - similar to how the people willing to return to the Squid Game see no difference between the killer games and their life outside.

The final showdown between Sang-Woo and Gi-Hun is appropriate for many reasons, not least of which because their character backgrounds are both based on director Hwang Dong-hyuk's own life, experiences, and some of his beliefs.

Like Gi-Hun, Dong-hyuk grew up with and lived with his single mother in financially troubled Ssangmun-dong, and like Sang-Woo he attended the well respected Seoul National University and had high expectations placed on him. The philosophy of both characters contradict each other completely, because Sang-Woo believes he got to the final game by beating the "losers", while Gi-Hun understands he got there through the sacrifices of the "losers" and never forgets to be grateful to them.

It's interesting to note that even among the actors, Sang-Woo is seen as the most "realistic" character with his survival instincts, and yet even he sees that between himself and Gi-Hun, he trusts Gi-Hun to take care of his mother and do better in life than he would - given that he was ready to commit suicide even at the beginning of the show.

So ultimately, even if he understands both characters intimately, the director still presents Gi-Hun as the one who "wins".

Revealed by director Hwang Dong-hyuk and art director Chae Kyoung-sun are some of the thoughts behind designing the series, which is one of the most visually interesting and memorable series Netflix has released.

In a video where they react to scenes from the series, Chae Kyoung-sun mentions how the director originally envisioned the guards as wearing boyscout outfits, but they eventually scrapped the idea for something that provided more anonymity and less individuality. The final outfits of the workers were designed to look like ants with no discernible individual features, and the colour pink was used since it was a colour often associated with fairy tales. In contrast, the green tracksuits of the players (based on green outfits from the Saemaul Undong movement and tracksuits worn by children in the 1970s) are being watched over and overtaken by the pink coloured guards.

The symbols on their helmets also represent their roles: circles for workers, triangles for armed soldiers, while squares for managers - symbols seen making up the drawing for the titular Squid Game, as well as the show's title, where the circle, triangle and square become part of the letters OJM - the series' Korean name, "Ojingeo Geim".

Oh Il-Nam's eventual twist in the series surprised many, but his role was foreshadowed heavily throughout the series.

The most obvious clue is when the fight breaks out in the night and Player 001 begs the cameras to make it stop, which the Frontman immediately capitulates to. Though only briefly seen onscreen, it's shown that 001's cuffs did not have a distinct padlock during the tug of war game. When Detective Hwang Joon-ho finds records for the current 2020 Squid Game, there's no Player 001, and the count starts from 002. Even when he "dies", he's shot off-frame.

Oh Il-Nam's name means "first man", which implies he was the one who created the games in the first place even from name alone.

Another interesting aspect of the character is how Gi-Hun treats him. From the beginning, Gi-Hun had treated Il-Nam with the respect granted to the elderly in South Korea, primarily in the way he addresses him. However, when he finds out the truth, Gi-Hun shows him the utmost disrespect, from a change in his language to the way he hands Il-Nam a glass of water with only one hand - which is disrespectful in Korean culture.

The Frontman is an interesting character from the get-go, but his reveal as Hwang Jun-ho's brother In-Ho makes him a lot more interesting when looking at the small details the series provides.

Despite winning some years ago, he was living in a Goshiwon - or a small, usually temporary, room usually rented by poor workers or students, which shows he wasn't at all interested in spending his winnings, similar to how Gi-Hun spends a whole year living in poverty due to the trauma of his experience. He also used to be a police officer, and the director has stated he wishes to dive into The Frontman's story due to the "issue of cops not only in South Korea, but globally", which implies The Frontman's role as an ex-cop as a much bigger element.

When Gi-Hun was offered VIP treatment at his bank, it implies that In-Ho took the offer, in contrast with Gi-Hun's decision to actively oppose the entire system. In-Ho's ideology of "true equality" in the games also clearly reflects his boss Il-Nam's view of what the truly rich and the truly poor have in common.

Ironically, both ideologies are proven false by Gi-Hun, the show's protagonist.

Though the VIPs were the least favourite of many an audience member, their characterisation and writing - though sometimes over the top and clunky in dialogue - were fairly accurate to how the director wanted to portray them.

It's not hard to see why the VIPs, though masked, are mostly white, all men, and mostly American. The US has one of the biggest, if not the biggest, superpowers' global economies, so the inclusion of more than one American feels like a decision rather than an accident.

The director even once stated that one of the VIPs resembled Donald Trump, and that he meant for them to represent "the powerful elite, the global CEOs."

The way their jokes are crass and low hanging fruit was also a narrative choice, to show that their riches didn't mean they were better or even classier people. The sexual overtures of one of them towards detective character Hwang Jun-ho may also be in reference to Western sexpats in Asian countries like South Korea. The painted figures in the room they were in also contained painted men and women and used as furniture, which, as the director points out, shows how they objectify human beings.

Another of the series's pointed references to real life social ills, Ali clearly represents how vulnerable immigrants can be.

Ali appears to be undocumented, which makes his situation even more terrifying, but even as a legal worker on EPS (Employment Permit System), Ali would be restricted to one employer only. Even with his employer in the show actively withholding money from him, he can't even change jobs. Even if he had come as a legal worker, Ali would have become illegal by virtue of leaving an abusive job.

Numerous immigrant workers in South Korea are exposed to terrible working conditions, including sleeping on site at factories at risk of freezing to death, and like Ali, losing fingers or gaining other disabilities without receiving compensation for workplace injury.

Though Ali is often being overly respectful in his language and how he addresses the Koreans he speaks to, it's clear from his fight with his boss and his mockery of Han Mi-nyeo that he doesn't have a passive personality at all. The way he calls people "sir" until he's given leave to call Sang-Woo "big brother" (hyung) shows just how even social situations can be a minefield for him.

Though many were baffled and shocked by Gi-Hun's choice of new hair, with its bold, almost cartoonish red, there was certainly more than one narrative reason for it.

The director pointed out that Gi-Hun's new hair was in part due to him wanting to have a huge change, show that he could never go back to his old self. It was, according to the director, something Gi-Hun would have never done before, showing just how much he'd changed after experiencing the games and his many losses. After losing his best friend, the people he'd come to trust in the game, as well as his own mother, there was no way the Gi-Hun from the beginning of the series would have survived to the end. And he didn't.

The colour of red also represents his rage, and how it would drive him to act against the Squid Game's leadership with his newfound wealth, power, and drive. It's in stark contrast to his paralysing grief, the year he spent destitute despite having access to immense riches.

Now that a fire has been lit under him, Gi-Hun's ready to fight, red hair and all.

Revealed in interviews with the cast and creators, and perhaps very much familiar to Korean viewers, is the "identity" of the iconic and terrifying doll in the Red Light Green Light portion of the Squid Game.

Apparently, in textbooks distributed in South Korean schools for many people growing up, there were two main "characters" represented by two pleasant looking children, a little boy and little girl. The little boy's name was Cheolsoo, and the little girl's name was Younghee. They're considered to be the South Korean equivalent of the American "Jack and Jill", just some stock children's names to teach young kids about basic educational concepts.

In line with the show's theme of taking innocent, even adorable children's imagery and turning them sinister, these characters, though mostly Younghee, were the basis for the Red Light Green Light doll.

Many international viewers assumed her song was unique to the show, but it's in fact the common children's chant attached to the South Korean version of the game, 무궁화 꽃 이 피었 습니다 or "Mugunghwa kkoci pieot seumnida", which literally means "Mugunghwa has bloomed". The Mugunghwa is the national flower of South Korea, its red centre like a traffic light.

Many viewers might have heard Ali saying "Hyung" when Sang-Woo said he could call him by his name instead of Sir. It's clear that "Hyung" isn't Sang-Woo's name, but to the very end, this is how Ali refers to him.

"Hyung" is a term that means "big brother", and can be used by younger males (younger females would use the term "oppa") to show familiarity and even affection toward an older brother figure. It's an important marker for closeness for someone like Ali who, up to this point, had to walk on eggshells when interacting with other Koreans due to his shaky status in the country, as well as the racism he likely experienced.

The term is also used when Sang-Woo talks to Gi-Hun early in the series, despite how he often otherwise looks down on Gi-Hun as time goes on. This provides even more insight into Gi-Hun and Sang-Woo's relationship, showing how Gi-Hun used to take care of Sang-Woo when they were kids, including bringing him to school.

It makes the scene where Sang-Woo betrays Ali way more heartbreaking to imagine Ali saying "big brother?" when calling for Sang-Woo before his death.

Though many are aware of the conflict between North Korea and South Korea, as well as the struggles of those trying to escape North Korea, a lot of the Kang siblings' issues may not be clear to non-Korean viewers.

Kang Sae-byeok is looked down on for being North Korean, referred to as a "North Korean spy" and looked down on for her origins. Her brother, Kang Cheol, is bullied by the children in the home she put him in to be cared for while she's away doing jobs.

Sae-byeok spends all her money that she gets from pickpocketing supporting her brother and trying to find their parents and bring them to South Korea after their escape ended with their father being shot and their mother sent back to North Korea by Chinese border agents. Her skinny appearance and prominent bones may even represent one of the main reasons North Koreans try to escape - starvation.

Another aspect that wouldn't be obvious to international viewers is Sae-byeok's North Korean accent. It's clear to Korean viewers that she speaks in a North Korean accent when she talks to her brother, but hides her accent among South Koreans to not stand out.

A real life event strongly referenced in Squid Game is the 2009 Ssangyong Motor crisis. Workers at the enormous car company went on strike and occupied the company after mass layoffs following the 2008 financial crisis, and protests were violently suppressed, first by private security, then by a full scale attack by police.

Only by 2018 was a resolution reached, almost a decade after the strike.

It isn't a coincidence that Gi-Hun's backstory involves taking part in a worker's uprising at a car company that experienced violent suppression. The most obvious clue is that the fictional car company in Squid Game was called "Dragon Motors", and the real life Ssangyong factory roughly translates to or 'double dragons.'

Director Hwang Dong-hyuk even directly mentions it in an interview:

“Through the reference to the SsangYong Motor layoffs, I wanted to show that any ordinary middle-class person in the world we live in today can fall to the bottom of the economic ladder overnight.”

This isn't the first time his work has directly tackled real life issues. His film The Crucible (Silenced), about real life abuse of disabled children, even led to changes in South Korean law regarding sex crimes against minors and the disabled.