When Squid Game premiered on Netflix, it became a global phenomenon almost overnight. But for many Koreans — myself included — it didn’t just shock us with its plot twists. It stirred something more intimate: memories.
Yes, the show is dystopian, violent, and layered with social critique. But it also does something quietly powerful — it revives traditional Korean childhood games. The ones we played barefoot on dusty playgrounds. The ones that taught us teamwork, grit, and, sometimes, mischief.
But a good story can.
Here are three games from Squid Game that reveal more than you think — not just about Korean culture, but about how we grow up, who we trust, and how we compete.
1. 무궁화 꽃이 피었습니다 (Mugunghwa Kkoti Pieotseumnida) — “Red Light, Green Light”
In the first episode of Squid Game, this seemingly innocent game quickly turns deadly. But behind the towering robot doll and eerie music is a playground staple that most Korean kids know by heart.
The game 'The Rose of Sharon Has Bloomed (pronounced mu-gung-hwa-kkoci-peiot-seumnida), also known as the 'Red light, Green light' is a popular traditional game in Korea. This game is more popular among younger children than older ones.
This iconic game sets the tone in Squid Game’s first episode, with a robotic doll and eerie music replacing what, for most Korean kids, was once pure fun.
In its traditional form, one child — playing the role of “It” — stands with their back turned and shouts “Mugunghwa kkochi pieotseumnida!” (The Rose of Sharon has bloomed). While the chant is spoken, the rest of the players move forward. As soon as “It” spins around, everyone must freeze. Anyone caught moving is out or becomes part of the catcher’s team. The objective? Reach and tag the catcher without being noticed.
The game blends timing, discipline, and suspense — all values subtly reinforced in Korean childhood. And with the national flower in its name, it reflects something even deeper: the cultural theme of perseverance.
2. 딱지치기 (Ddak-ji chi-gi) - "Paper Flip Game"
This is the first game we see in Squid Game — played casually in a subway station, yet symbolically opening the door to everything that follows.
Ddakji is played with colorful paper tiles folded into squares. One player places their tile flat on the ground, while the other attempts to flip it over by slamming their own tile down on top. If the tile flips, you win it. If not, the roles reverse. The game continues until someone’s out of tiles or decides to quit.
The game starts with one of the players placing his ddakji on the ground and the other player hitting his ddakji in an attempt to flip it.
What looks like a playful pastime is really a study in physics, aim, and strategy. It’s not just about hitting hard — it's about choosing the right angle, timing your strike, and adjusting your fold for that perfect slap. Many Korean kids grew up making these tiles themselves, experimenting with folds and paper types to get the perfect “thwack.”
This game requires power, accuracy and a handful of patience.
3. 사방치기 (Sa-bang chi-gi) - "Hopscotch"
Sa-bang chi-gi (also known as 땅따먹기 - ttang-tta-meok-gi) is played on a court that has eight sections numbered 1 to 8, and an area at the top of the court called sky or haneul (하늘 - ha-neul).
Known by several names, including Ttang-tta-meok-gi, this chalk-drawn game has long been a favorite on Korean schoolyards — and unlike some others, it’s still played today.
The rules are simple but require sharp coordination. Players draw a grid of numbered squares on the ground, with a designated “sky” section at the top. Using a small stone or token, the player tosses it into square #1, then hops — avoiding the square with the stone — all the way up and back through the course, collecting the stone on the return. This repeats through all numbered squares.
In the final round, players throw the stone over their shoulder into the grid. Whichever square it lands in becomes their “property” — and other players must avoid stepping in it. A slip or a hand on the ground ends your turn.
With its quiet rhythm, Sa-bang Chi-gi teaches balance, control, and playful rivalry. It’s a game of territory, strategy, and skill — the kind that turns chalk lines into imaginary worlds.
Final Thoughts: More Than Just Games
On the surface, Red Light, Green Light, Ddakji, and Sa-bang Chi-gi are simple childhood pastimes. No screens. No gadgets. Just voices, paper, chalk, and imagination. But beneath the simplicity lies something far deeper — a blueprint for how generations of Korean children learned about life.
Red Light, Green Light teaches us patience and awareness — the value of holding still when everything inside you wants to rush forward.
Ddakji challenges us to think before we act — to outwit, outmaneuver, and adapt, even when the odds seem stacked.
Sa-bang Chi-gi, often played in narrow alleyways with nothing but chalk and a stone, reminds us of joy in movement, the rhythm of fairness, and how even a few drawn squares can become a world of possibility.
Each game holds a lesson. A moral, even. And though we may have played them as children, they echo into adulthood — shaping how we navigate tension, conflict, trust, and decision-making. For travelers and storytellers like myself, these games are living threads. They connect past and present, city and village, memory and identity. They are reminders that culture isn’t just something we visit. It’s something we feel — in our bodies, in our choices, and in the way we play.
So when I introduce these games to visitors on my tours — whether in a market alley or a quiet hanok courtyard — I’m not just showing them a piece of Korea. I’m offering them a piece of our childhood, and maybe, a mirror to their own. Because in the end, what is culture if not the stories we carry — and the games we never really stopped playing?
0 Comments
Thank you for commenting!