Did you catch that Matrix reference in Squid Game season 2? Hidden meaning explored

Tottenham Hotspur FC v Liverpool FC - Premier League - Source: Getty
Tottenham Hotspur FC v Liverpool FC - Premier League - Source: Getty

From the very first episode of Squid Game, the red and blue envelopes in the Ddakji game appeared to be nothing more than a cunning method to lure players into the nightmare to come. But what if that moment was more than just bait? What if it was the first step in the deadliest decision they'd ever make? An important decision disguised as a simple choice.


Retconning reality—When creators rewrite the rules

Back when Squid Game first dropped, creator Hwang Dong-hyuk playfully brushed off fan theories about the red and blue envelopes, joking that the audience was more creative than he was. But let’s be honest here. We all know that storytelling thrives on reinvention.

Just look at the John Wick franchise. What started as a simple revenge film about a man and his dog was expanded due to its immense success. It led to a sprawling underworld of assassins with its own intricate lore and an upcoming spin-off, Ballerina, and how does that happen? All thanks to well-placed retcons.

The Matrix allusion by Hwang Dong-hyuk is far from being a mere tribute. This usage of retcon is both clever and strategically placed. Plus, it's a win-win for fans of the movie and the Korean series. Moreover, it altered the Squid Game's fictitious world. This meta-layer invites fans to dive deeper into theories, showing that even when creators deny it, retcons can redefine and reignite the game.


Down the rabbit hole, and deeper than Alice ever dreamed of

The more we examine the show's symbology, the more nuances become apparent. Like Alice in Wonderland and Neo in The Matrix, the players are dragged further and further into a world where everything is not what it seems. It keeps changing with every decision they make as they follow the "white rabbit." Only this is a nightmarish situation, far from being one of wonder.

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This spiral toward madness reflects the decision-making process in our reality and society. While we have the promise of free will, with every choice we make, we're actually guided along set paths. The recruitment in Squid Game shows how modern systems lure people into risky situations with false "choices."


The Matrix connection — Shattered mirror of reality

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Red pill or blue pill? Bread or Lottery? Ddakji. Voting system. Squid Game's initial and deadliest choice runs deeper than the aforementioned rabbit hole. The red-versus-blue dilemma echoes The Matrix. Not only is that undeniable, but even the characters in one specific sequence of Squid Game Season 2 acknowledge that onscreen. In the 1999 sci-fi classic, the red pill reveals brutal truth, while blue allows continued blissful ignorance. But Squid Game distorts this reflection. Here, both choices lead to a different type of prison.

Creator Hwang Dong-hyuk's admitted inspiration goes beyond surface-level homage in this case. Squid Game turns the philosophical question of "truth versus comfort" into something more sinister. And what if both of these paths one "chooses" lead to the same dystopian end?

In Season 2, this duality manifests in the X and O (no and yes) in the reintroduced voting system, echoing that first choice. The uniform patches become permanent marks of decisions that seemed free but were manipulated from the start. Like the red and blue envelopes, these symbols mark their bearers as part of the system, whether they realize it or not.


Players and guards—Two sides of the same counterfeit coin

Like a game of distorted mirrors, players and guards reflect different faces of the same prison. Guards wear red/pink (this spectrum can be differently perceived) clothes and black masks with geometric figures showing their positions in the game. Players, on the other hand, don green uniforms.

And green is blue and yellow combined. In the series, blue is, according to theories that examine the meaning of colors and their association with the themes of the series, to represent humans. Yellow? Money. So, green would be something along the lines of the individual plus the money they want to get by being there and taking part in the deadly games. This is a circular reference to that first "choice." But are they really different choices, or just illusions of freedom painted in different shades?

The anonymity of the guards (faceless behind their masks with geometric symbols stating their rank in the system) parallels the dehumanization of the players, reduced to numbers. Forms and numbers. Both groups are stripped of identity, just serving different roles in the same cruel theater.

The hierarchy itself becomes a maze of false choices. While guards can kill players, are they any more free? Their masks might also be seen as prison bars, keeping them trapped in roles they possibly chose without understanding the consequences. Therefore, they are essentially not so different from the players they oversee.


The real Squid Game

Like a squid changing colors to camouflage itself, the show shifts its appearance, revealing new layers of meaning. Now, picture this: An onion. Analyzing the layers of Squid Game is like peeling an onion. Each layer uncovers more hidden meanings and connections. It turns what first appears to be a simple game into a complex web of symbolism and social critique. It’s a storytelling technique that pulls us deeper with every revelation (and or the lack thereof).

The real "Squid Game" isn't the set of deadly trials—it's the labyrinth of false choices that traps both guards and players in their predetermined roles.

This metaphor extends to the very nature of the games themselves. Traditional children's games are transformed into deadly spectacles, much like how the simple choice between red and blue envelopes transforms into a life-changing decision. The innocence of childhood games becomes a mask for systemic violence, just as the simple choice of colors masks the true nature of participation.

The squid's ability to release ink and camouflage themselves to confuse predators mirrors how the game itself obscures truth with spectacle, leaving both players and viewers questioning what's real and what's manipulation.

Fun fact: Squid ink is a safe food additive.


Can anyone truly escape the labyrinth?

Squid Game Season 3 promises to dive even deeper down the rabbit hole. When Gi-hun attempts to infiltrate the organization, will he discover that red and blue are just different shades of the same prison? Or is there a third option—one that allows true freedom?

The question becomes more complex when we consider the VIPs—those who appear to be above the color-coded system. Yet even they are trapped in their own kind of prison, seeking increasingly extreme entertainment to feel anything at all. Their gold masks become just another color in the spectrum of captivity.

In Squid Game, each answer leads to deeper musings. The show uses references and symbolism to make us question not just the characters' choices but our own illusions of free will.

The genius of the show lies in how it makes us all participants in this meta-game. As viewers, we, too, make choices—choosing to watch, to engage, to theorize. We become part of the same system we're critiquing, much like how Gi-hun's return to the game in Season 2 shows how inescapable the system truly is. In Squid Game, freedom and survival aren’t opposites—they’re illusions. The real challenge? Figuring out if you’re even playing the right game.

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Edited by Sarah Nazamuddin Harniswala