About “Squid Game” in a few words:

Squid Game is a South Korean thriller series that follows a group of financially struggling individuals who compete in a series of children’s games for the chance to win a massive cash prize. However, they soon realize that losing a game means losing their life as they become trapped in a deadly game orchestrated by the mysterious and powerful “Front Man.” The series explores themes of power, corruption, and survival, as the players are forced to confront their deepest fears and desires to stay alive.

Discover your survival chances in Squid Game

0.1%

Oh man, 0.1% is basically the walking disaster magnet of this whole thing — charmingly doomed, like they trip over their own destiny. They’re the person who has a plan written in tiny handwriting but then forgets where they put the plan and decides to wing it, somehow both brave and ridiculously unlucky. Think equal parts dramatic last stand and accidental heroism (which, no, they didn’t mean to be heroic, they were just trying to find snacks). They probably hum while panicking and own three umbrellas yet always gets soaked, which somehow feels very on-brand.

1%

1% vibes like the overconfident gambler who always thinks they can bluff their way out, and usually they can’t — bless their heart. Sharp tongue, sharper ideas, but a tragic soft spot that makes them choose loyalty over logic at the worst times. They have a weird habit of organizing supplies into color-coded piles and then immediately losing their favorite pen, which is somehow symbolic. You can see the strategy in their head, it’s just… there’s a big emotional pothole in the road.

3.33%

3.33% strikes me as the quiet calculator — low-key terrifyingly precise but emotionally on mute, except when they laugh too loud at the wrong time. They read the rules like scripture and then make little unpredictable side bets (like snacks or nicknames) because they’re secretly superstitious. Efficient, a little cold, but also the type to rescue a stray dog in the lobby and then insist they’re allergic — questionable. They survive on cunning, sticky notes, and an inexplicable love of mint gum.

5%

5% feels like the good-handshake, steady friend who keeps a calm face even as chaos unfolds, which is both their strength and their boring downfall. Dependable to a fault, follows the rulebook when a little rule-bending might save them — stubborn, honestly. They collect keychains from places they’ve never been and say “we’ll get through it” like it’s a mantra, and sometimes it works. There’s a quiet dignity to them that makes you want to root for them, even if they’re not flashy.

7.66%

7.66% is the improviser who’s always thinking five moves ahead and three snack breaks behind, a beautiful mess of creativity and tiny bad decisions. They rig doors with gum and paperclips and somehow make a decoy out of an empty chip bag — ingenious and slightly gross. Socially they’re charming but flaky; they’ll promise you the moon and then bring back a postcard of the moon instead. Slightly chaotic but shockingly lucky when the universe decides to cooperate.

10%

10% is the networker, the person who wins by having people like them, which is both strategic and very human. Charismatic, persuasive, loves to broker deals (and always remembers birthdays, annoyingly), so they turn alliances into survival tools. They can be manipulative in a polished way — think velvet glove, but maybe with a sewing needle hidden inside — and that moral flexibility is their edge. Also, they probably keep a snack stash labeled “emergency diplomacy” and yes, it’s full of almonds.

23%

23% is the practical leader who knows when to push and when to fold — adaptable, a little world-weary, and secretly sentimental. They make plans that actually account for human irrationality (amazing), and they have this old-school pocketknife that they swear does everything — opening cans, fixing things, starting conversations. Confident but not cocky, they’ll make the hard call and then quietly apologize later (and mean it). Slight tendency to hum while making big decisions, which is oddly calming for everyone else.

44%

44% is the surprisingly optimized survivalist — smart, balanced, and borderline infuriating because it’s almost unfair how well-calibrated they are. They read situations like books, solve puzzles for fun, and can calm a panic with a single, oddly specific fact; sometimes they talk to plants in their spare time so who knows. They’re confident, occasionally overconfident (watch the swagger), but mostly just competent, adaptable, and annoyingly prepared. Also, they have a playlist for every mood, including “late-stage game calm,” which is a thing I did not expect to be a category.