Unmasking the Oligarchs: ‘Squid Game’ Creator Compares Fictional VIP Villains to Tech Titan Elon Musk in Chilling Reality Check
The cultural zeitgeist of the past few years has been heavily defined by the razor-sharp socio-economic commentary and visceral thrills of the South Korean dystopian masterpiece, “Squid Game.” As the global Netflix phenomenon officially concludes its run with a breathtaking third and final season, the conversation surrounding the show has shifted from the shock value of its deadly childhood games to the deeply uncomfortable, real-world realities it so perfectly mirrors. In a stunning recent revelation, the series’ mastermind, director and writer Hwang Dong-hyuk, has pulled back the curtain on the inspiration behind his most detestable characters, drawing a direct and chilling parallel between the show’s sadistic, ultra-wealthy VIPs and modern tech titans—most notably, the omnipresent billionaire Elon Musk.
To fully grasp the magnitude of this comparison, one must first understand the role of the VIPs within the twisted universe of “Squid Game.” Throughout the series, these characters are depicted as a collective of obscenely wealthy, predominantly English-speaking men who treat human lives as entirely disposable playthings. Hidden behind opulent, golden animal masks, they lounge in luxurious viewing rooms, placing massive financial wagers on desperate, debt-ridden individuals fighting to the death. They are the ultimate embodiment of late-stage capitalist rot—men so insulated by their unimaginable wealth that they have entirely lost touch with their own humanity, viewing the agonizing struggles of the working class as nothing more than a casual spectator sport.
While Hwang Dong-hyuk has firmly maintained that these grotesque antagonists were not modeled after any specific, real-life individuals during their initial conception, the rapid evolution of our modern world has caused art and reality to collide in unexpected ways. Following the completion of the show’s highly anticipated third season—where the VIPs shed their passive spectator roles and become far more active, brutal, and visible participants in the carnage—the director noticed a terrifying synchronization with the current state of global affairs.
In a recent, highly illuminating interview with Time magazine, Hwang openly discussed the unavoidable similarities between his fictional billionaires and the real-world oligarchs who currently dominate global headlines. “Elon Musk is everywhere now, right? Everyone talks about him,” the acclaimed director observed. “He’s not just the head of a massive tech company that almost controls the world, but also a figure who really knows how to grab attention. After writing Season 3, I also thought: Wow, some VIPs in the movie are kind of like Elon Musk.”
This statement is far more than a simple, passing observation about a famous CEO; it is a profound commentary on a massive, structural shift in how global power is wielded and perceived today. For decades, the popular cultural archetype of the “shadowy elite” depicted billionaires and power brokers as secretive figures who operated entirely behind closed doors. The prevailing belief was that those who truly ran the world preferred to remain invisible, pulling the strings of society through a hidden, impenetrable conspiracy.
However, as Hwang astutely points out, that era of the silent, reclusive billionaire is definitively over. We have entered a bold, unprecedented age of the “influencer-oligarch,” an era where the wealthiest individuals on the planet no longer feel the need to hide their immense power. Instead, they actively seek the spotlight, using their vast fortunes to loudly and proudly shape public discourse, influence global markets with a single social media post, and directly dictate the future of human infrastructure.
“Before, the people who actually controlled the system and held power often hid behind the scenes, almost like a massive invisible conspiracy,” Hwang elaborated in his interview. “But now, that is no longer the case, especially in America. We talk a lot about oligarchy, but the big tech moguls today openly step out to the front, clearly declaring who they will support with their money.”
This specific observation strikes at the very heart of why the comparison to Elon Musk is so incredibly potent. Musk represents the absolute apex of this new breed of hyper-visible billionaires. As the driving force behind colossal enterprises like Tesla, SpaceX, and the social media platform X (formerly Twitter), his influence stretches across the automotive industry, space exploration, satellite communications, and the global flow of digital information. He does not hide his wealth or his opinions; he amplifies them. He uses his platform and his capital to publicly endorse political figures, shape policy debates, and insert himself into the center of virtually every major cultural conversation.
According to Hwang, this brazen display of power mirrors the terrifying evolution of the VIPs in the final season of “Squid Game.” The fictional villains realize that they no longer need the protection of anonymity. “The people who actually control the system and hold power are no longer hiding their faces,” Hwang emphasized. “They are ready to take off their masks, as if they want to declare: ‘We are the ones in control of everything.'”
This unmasking represents a chilling turning point, both in the narrative of the television show and in our actual society. When the ultra-wealthy operate in the shadows, there is at least an acknowledgment of societal norms and a fear of public accountability. But when the masks come off, and billionaires openly flaunt their ability to purchase platforms, influence elections, and dictate the trajectory of human progress without apology, it signals a fundamental breakdown in democratic balance. It creates a world where the vast majority of ordinary people are reduced to mere players on a board, forced to navigate an increasingly hostile economic system while the VIPs watch from above, entirely immune to the consequences of the games they sponsor.
The timing of these revelations is particularly striking as the “Squid Game” franchise prepares for its next massive expansion. With the original South Korean series reaching its bloody, philosophical conclusion, acclaimed Hollywood director David Fincher is currently developing an Americanized adaptation of the show. Fincher, known for his masterful, cynical explorations of capitalism, toxic masculinity, and societal decay in films like “Fight Club” and “The Social Network,” is uniquely equipped to translate Hwang’s brilliant premise for a Western audience.
An American iteration of “Squid Game” arrives at a moment when the United States is grappling intensely with the exact themes Hwang has highlighted. The wealth gap in America has reached historic, dizzying heights, and the influence of tech billionaires over daily life has never been more pronounced. A US-based version of the deadly games will undoubtedly lean heavily into the culture of Silicon Valley hubris, the idolization of tech founders, and the crushing reality of late-stage American capitalism, where healthcare, housing, and basic survival are increasingly commodified.
Ultimately, Hwang Dong-hyuk’s comparison between his golden-masked villains and real-world figures like Elon Musk serves as a necessary, if deeply unsettling, wake-up call. Great dystopian fiction does not merely predict a distant, impossible future; it holds a magnifying glass to the most alarming aspects of our present day. “Squid Game” captivated hundreds of millions of viewers worldwide precisely because its underlying premise—that the poor are forced to compete for the amusement and profit of the insulated rich—felt less like a fantasy and more like an exaggerated documentary.
As we say goodbye to the groundbreaking series, the lingering terror does not come from the show’s gruesome, brightly colored execution methods, but from the horrifying realization that the VIPs are no longer confined to our television screens. They are walking among us, unmasked, unapologetic, and holding the controller to our global society. The game, it seems, has only just begun.
