What Happened To The Old Man In Squid Game
Okay, so, we all binged Squid Game, right? And let's be real, that old man? Oh-Il-nam. He was a character. A big character.
He started out seeming all sweet and grandpa-y. Like the dude you'd want to share a cup of tea with. Remember his little hobble? His stories? So innocent. Or so we thought!
And then BAM! Plot twist. The biggest plot twist. Like, who saw that coming? Seriously, my jaw hit the floor. My actual jaw. I think it’s still somewhere under the couch.
So, what did happen to the old man? Well, it’s a bit of a rollercoaster. And that’s what makes it so darn fun to dissect. It’s like a puzzle with missing pieces, and we’re all just guessing, right?
The Grand Reveal
The whole thing kicks off when Seong Gi-hun, our lovable loser protagonist, starts getting really buddy-buddy with Player 001. They’re playing marbles. It's supposed to be cute. A sweet friendship blossoming in the most messed-up circumstances ever. Like, ever.
Gi-hun is totally falling for the whole "wise old man who's seen it all" vibe. He’s helping him. Protecting him. Even crying for him when he thinks Oh-Il-nam is out of the game. Oh, Gi-hun. You sweet, naive soul.
And then, in that final, iconic scene. Gi-hun wins. He’s got the money. He’s finally free from this nightmare. He's looking for Oh-Il-nam, wanting to share his good fortune, right? Because that's what friends do. Even in a death game.
And he finds him. Not in some fancy penthouse, not struggling with poverty. Nope. He finds him in a fancy apartment, playing video games. And Oh-Il-nam is looking good. Like, suspiciously good. No more shaky hands. No more sad stories.
And then, the bombshell. The mic drop. The "hold up, what?" moment. Oh-Il-nam basically goes, "Surprise! I'm the mastermind behind all of this!"
The creator. The puppet master. The old man.
But Why? The Million-Dollar Question (Literally)
This is where the real fun begins. Why? Why would a seemingly frail, kind old man orchestrate such a brutal game? And that’s the juicy part. That’s the stuff we’re still debating over our virtual coffees.
The show gives us some clues. Oh-Il-nam claims he was bored. Bored. Can you imagine? Living a life of wealth and comfort, but it's just… dull. He missed the thrill. The stakes. The childhood games.
Think about it. He had everything. Money. Power. He could buy anything. Except, apparently, a good time. So, he decided to create his own entertainment. A macabre, high-stakes version of his youth. How twisted is that? It's almost hilariously absurd.
He wanted to feel something again. He wanted to see if people, stripped of all their societal pretense, would revert to their primal instincts. To see if the "fairness" of childhood games could survive in a world of desperation. Spoiler alert: it didn't.
It’s like he was conducting a giant, morbid experiment. And we, the viewers, were just as much a part of it as Gi-hun. We were all invested. We were all rooting for certain players. We were all judging the choices being made.
Quirky Details We Can't Ignore
There are so many little things about Oh-Il-nam that, in retrospect, are just chef’s kiss genius. Or just plain weird, depending on how you look at it.
Remember when he was supposed to have a brain tumor? And he’d be coughing and wheezing? Turns out, that was just… acting. Top-tier acting. He was a method actor in his own horrifying play. So dramatic!
And his supposed gambling addiction? That was a cover. A way to get himself deep into debt, to make him seem like a genuine candidate for the games. He needed the motivation, apparently.
He even chose his own player number. 001. The first. The beginning. It’s so fitting, isn’t it? He’s the OG of this whole twisted system.
And that scene where he pees his pants during the Red Light, Green Light game? So relatable, right? Except, for him, it was probably just another layer of his performance. Making himself seem vulnerable. Making everyone underestimate him.
It’s the little details that make you go, "Wait a minute…" It’s like he was playing multiple games at once. The game of survival, and the game of deception.
The Legacy of Player 001
So, where does that leave us? Oh-Il-nam is dead. Officially. He did die in the end, after that final, devastating game of Red Light, Green Light where Gi-hun intentionally let him win. A moment of pure, tragic irony.
But his legacy? It’s huge. He’s the reason Gi-hun is so messed up. He’s the reason Gi-hun can’t let go. He’s the catalyst for the entire second season, presumably.
He represents the ultimate corruption of innocence. The idea that wealth and power can warp someone into something truly monstrous. And yet, he also represents that core human desire for excitement, for connection, for meaning, however twisted his path was.
It’s a fascinating character study. A villain who wasn’t just evil for evil’s sake, but had… reasons. Flawed, disturbing reasons, but reasons nonetheless.
And that’s why we keep talking about him. That's why we're still dissecting every single scene. Because Oh-Il-nam is more than just an old man in a death game. He’s a symbol. A warning. And a seriously messed-up plot twist that still gives us chills.
So, next time you rewatch Squid Game, pay attention to the old man. You'll see him differently. I promise.