Original subtitles

Previously on Riverdale:

The first time any of us heard of Gryphons and Gargoyles

was from your mother.

Ben and Dilton kill themselves,

all to appease some creature called the Gargoyle King.

Toxicology report revealed lethal levels of cyanide in Mr. Doiley's blood.

There's something familiar about this.

We made a vow.

-The secret we buried all those years ago. -Made a pact to never revisit that.

- Do you have a player's manual? - Flip for your fate.

-Promise to give me the scripture? -Promise.

- Salut. - You been playing the game?

-No. -Don't lie to me, boy.

I see the blue on your lips.

No one will play, but that book may be our best shot at figuring out

- what happened to Dilton and Ben. - Our children are in danger.

-Where'd you get this? -My locker.

Same with everyone else.

A deadly mutating virus had been introduced

to the ecosystem of Riverdale,

and it was spreading like an epidemic.

For every manual confiscated, two popped up in its place.

And the ever-resourceful students of Riverdale High

were playing it everywhere.

Why? Because for us, the game was an escape

from our nightmarish reality, a fantasyland at our fingertips.

But for our parents, it was a death-dealing nightmare.

Two students have taken their lives.

A third tried. The common thread linking these tragedies:

all three victims were playing the game known as Gryphons and Gargoyles.

You're admitting the game killed Dilton and Ben?

Yes, Mr. Jones.

But where did G&G come from? Where did Ben and Dilton even get it?

We still don't have many answers,

but from the little that we know about it the game seems targeted

at impressionable developing minds.

Namely, teens like yourselves.

Um... Challenge accepted.

Respect to the dead,

but some among our flock are shepherds, not sheep.

The game's quests and role-playing scenarios

are specifically designed

to foster delusion, paranoia, and ultimately violence.

As mayor, I'm officially banning Gryphons and Gargoyles.

Mrs. Burble is gonna be holding extended office hours,

and I've set up a 24-hour crisis hotline,

overseen by Kevin Keller.

FYI, I am only there after school.

As a parent, I'm imploring you.

Take care of yourselves. And stay away from this game.

Newsflash, Mom, banning something

only makes it more interesting.

Thank you.

And now this stupid game is literally all anyone is talking about.

You're not playing, are you, Vee?

Bee, you don't make Fibes 20 Under 20

by prancing around the woods in a deer carcass.

-Are you and Jughead playing? -No.

We're trying to find out why my mom and his dad were so triggered

by us having the manuals.

-Hello? -Ms. Cooper, this is Dr. Curdle Junior.

Are you alone?

Hi, Dr. Curdle.

Yes. Have you had any luck?

Per your request, I did some digging in the morgue archives. I found something I think you'll be interested in.

Dr. Curdle Junior told me and Jughead

that the circumstances of Dilton Doiley's suicide

felt oddly familiar to him.

That file is why.

A case from when his dad was coroner.

I am right in the middle of my affirmations.

Trust me, you'll wanna look at this.

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Per your Farm "testimony,"

you've clearly played G&G before.

Now I have concrete evidence that when you were my age

there was another suspicious death, maybe a murder,

that took place at Riverdale High where the corpse had blue lips.

I can keep digging or you can just tell me what you know about G&G.

All right.

Wait, really?

You're right, Betty. You deserve to know the whole truth.

If for no other reason, for your own protection.

It was our junior year.

Phones had cords, Winona had Johnny, and everything smelled like teen spirit.

The world was a different place, and we were very different people.

Back then, I was Alice Smith,

a bad girl from the wrong side of the tracks

with enviable hair,

no real friends...

Please no, please no, please no.

and one huge problem.

Damn it.

Everything okay?

Mind your own business, Hermione. Shouldn't you be in a church?

Oh, crap, girl. Are you...?

It's probably a false positive. It happens all the time.

Like three percent of the time.

No one's talking to you, Sierra.

What am I gonna do?

I tried to talk to him. He blew me off, for some Vixen he's screwing.

Classic FP Jones.

-FP Jones? -FP Jones?

Well, well, well.

I thought I heard a party in here.

Hall passes, ladies.

Oh, it's up your ass, Penelope.

Classy as always, Alice Smith.

Just curious, were you born with that mouth,

or is it something Southside mothers teach their bastard babies?

Wow.

You trashy bitch.

Oh, no. No, no, no.

-Hey. -Yeah.

-Get off. -Ow!

Hey.

Come on, FP. It's Bulldog tradition.

Streak, streak, streak.

-Streak, streak, streak. -My arm's in a cast, Mantle.

-Streak, streak, streak. -Doesn't matter.

-Streak, streak, streak. -Streak.

-Streak, streak, streak. -Streak.

Marty, I'm not doing it.

Streak, streak, streak.

I'll go with you.

Freddie Andrews. Why? You're not even on our team.

No, but the baseball team got me to streak last year

and it got me serious cred with the ladies.

Run fast enough, and all they'll see is a blur.

Streak, streak, streak...

We were invincible. Or at least we thought we were.

That little stunt landed FP and Fred in hot water.

Welcome... to Saturday detention.

Gathered in that classroom, we were strangers more than friends.

And none of us could've guessed that our lives were about to change forever.

It was just supposed to be one Saturday.

Eight hours, six people, with seemingly nothing in common.

The bad girl.

- Alice Smith? - The rebelling Catholic.

Hermione Gomez?

-The teacher's pet. -Penelope Blossom?

-The artist athlete. -Fred Andrews?

The political animal.

Sierra Samuels?

-And the ladies' man. -Forsythe Pendleton Jones, Jr.

Forsythe Pendleton Jones, Jr.

He was the BMOC, an all-American athlete,

a stud muffin, as we used to say.

He was different back then, Betty.

Trying to be something other than what he was, but still trouble.

I was as tough as nails, but around FP, Silly Putty.

Even in detention, with a secret growing inside me...

I hated him...

but I wanted him.

Okay, okay, Mom. I get it.

While you're here today, you will not talk.

You will not play.

You will not move.

You don't even breathe.

Yes.

What if we have to pee?

You hold it, Ms. Samuels.

And at the end of the day, you will deliver a 1000-word essay

as to why you're here today.

I will be right down the hall, in my office, all day long.

'Cause I have nothing better to do.

Dude, can you not?

Dude, can you bite me?

Oh, my God. Shh.

Psst. Sierra.

Sit. We'll get in trouble.

Tommy.

Brought you some sustenance.

-Thank you. -I love you.

-I'll see you tonight, okay? -Okay.

Sierra.

You and Tom Keller?

Guys, we've been going to the same school since kindergarten.

How do we not know anything about each other?

We're not friends. Cliques don't cross-pollinate.

-Haven't you seen Heathers? -Well, we've got six more hours to kill,

and no one to impress.

How about a round of Secrets and Sins?

Tommy and I have been secretly dating for a few months now.

Why secretly?

Our parents don't want their children dating someone so...

different.

To use their euphemism of choice.

My mom's all up in my relationships, too.

-You know Hiram Lodge? -Uh, yes.

-Dude is ripped. -And a petty criminal.

He's a self-starter who provides for his family.

To my mom, he's a scrub.

"That's the way to the American Dream, mija."

What dream?

She cleans hotel rooms in that stupid Five Seasons,

16 hours a day.

Hiram's got the right idea. Get out of Riverdale.

-No matter what you have to do. -Yeah. Except...

Riverdale's not the problem.

Me? I wanna stay here my whole life.

That how long it'll take you to decide between music or baseball?

Our minor league is solid.

And we're close enough to the city to play music gigs.

This town's got it all.

Could even run for mayor one day.

Ugh. Nightmare job.

Why not shoot for something bigger?

You can do all those things in a real metropolis.

Except look after my dad.

He's sick. Real sick.

And he took care of me my whole life, so, now it's my turn.

Alice, you're up.

What's your deepest, darkest secret?

-Um... -Skip her.

Tell them about the time you lit a dumpster on fire on the Southside.

Why don't you tell them that you actually live in Sunnyside Trailer Park?

-I thought you lived on Elm Street. -Yeah.

Of course. Because it's what Forsythe wants you to believe.

You parade around the school in your varsity jacket like a Northsider.

Don't kid yourself.

You'll never escape the Southside. You're gonna end up just like your dad.

Downing six-packs in your double-wide.

Maybe, but I'm not gonna hit my kid.

Not like my old man hits me.

I told him I didn't wanna join his gang.

That I wanted to be the first Jones to go to college.

He didn't like that.

Okay. Guess that just leaves me.

Fair is fair.

The Blossoms.

They're... terrible people.

But, Penelope, you're a Blossom.

No, I'm not.

Not really.

I grew up at Sisters of Quiet Mercy orphanage.

Oh, my God, Penelope.

That place has, like, violated every humanitarian code.

When I was eight,

the Blossoms came and asked to see all the red-headed children.

The next thing I knew, I was leaving with them.

I was so excited.

I very quickly realized this was not an altruistic adoption.

I was being groomed.

To first be Clifford's sister.

Then, eventually, his life companion.

Every second away from that house, even today, is a relief.

Why are you still living there?

They're my family.

That's not family. It's basically incest.

It's disgusting.

At least I'm not cleaning people's toilets like your mom.

Well, at least she has class.

She's not stealing child brides out of orphanages.

-Here we go again. -Hey, hey, hey.

-Hey. -Just...

-Hey. Hey. Stop it. -Hey.

Congratulations.

You all just upped your sentence from one Saturday detention to four.

We were angry, of course.

At each other, at ourselves.

But little by little, hour by hour,

the walls we'd hidden behind all our lives started breaking down.

As pudding cups and sandwiches were shared...

the bravado fell away.

And a group of misfits became unlikely friends.

And then there was that rainy Saturday afternoon.

The first cold rain of the season.

When I got it into my head to add the rest of the group's initials

to the windowsill, carved next to mine.

And Hermione decided to break into Mrs. Crabapple's drawer.

What are you doing?

Yesterday Mrs. Crabapple took my Game Lad,

and locked it up in here, so, I'm getting it back.

That's vandalism.

Yeah.

Holy crap.

Crabapple's been hoarding our stuff for decades.

Oh!

And there it was.

Gryphons and Gargoyles. I've heard of this game before.

We shouldn't play it. It doesn't belong to us.

Gryphons and Gargoyles.

-Thought this was an urban legend. -I heard kids play at Seaside.

I heard one of them had a heart attack and died.

In that case... we definitely have to play it, right?

"An ancient evil, long forgotten to this world, has awoken.

His name? The Gargoyle King.

Defeat him, and receive the supreme reward."

Okay, how do we beat him?

It looks like the person with the manual, me, is the Game Master.

I'll guide you through quests, and you complete them,

until you "ascend to the next level."

But first pick your characters.

I pick the Sorceress.

Maybe I can make all you nerds disappear.

I pick the Thief.

I've always wanted to be free of moral reasoning.

Well, as the voice of the people, I choose the Siren.

Deadeye. Sick.

Fred, we all know you're the Radiant Knight.

"Clinging to the ideals of hope, justice, and righteousness."

I don't know, seems kind of...

-Perfect for you. -Boring.

Now pay attention.

"Welcome, brave adventurers, to Eldervair,

realm of Gryphons and Gargoyles."

Lady Smith, please, pick a quest card.

"Free the souls of the undead."

"You are standing at the top of Necromancer's Alley."

That's how it begins, Betty. The maddening obsession.

With the roll of a dice.

"You approach a well at the center of Arcana Maze.

The hedges grow behind you, sealing off the exit."

I'm gonna toss my Gildite Coin.

Please, be heads.

"A geyser bursts, depositing the scroll in your hand."

Nicely done, Squire Pendleton.

-Is it too late to start another round? -Not at all.

Might I suggest we kick things up a notch?

-Take the game off-board. -Run around school

-with Featherhead down the hall? -He takes a nap after lunch.

I'm in.

Trust me, you will love it.

Uh, there's this quest, The Wedding Stone, that requires pairs.

So, Squire Pendleton,

Madam H.

Sir Frederick, Lady Smith.

I hid a gemstone from Thornhill in this building.

First pair to find it and show it to Sierra gets to keep it.

Looks like it's just you and me for a bit, Sierra. Shall we pillage the cafeteria?

Why those specific pairings, Penelope?

Did the Gargoyle King make you do it?

I guess... I'm just in the mood for a little chaos.

- How do we know if we're even close? - We let our love guide us.

Yeah. Or the Gargoyle King.

Hey.

Come on.

-Ready? -Yeah.

Okay.

Yes! Milady.

I was thinking of asking you something.

Ooh!

What the hell, Hermione?

You were gonna kiss me.

No. I wasn't.

This is a role-playing game.

I'm not actually into you, FP.

Alice, are you okay? You look...

Here, sit down.

Hey, you can talk to me.

Alice, what's up?

I'm... lost.

I wake up every morning, wanting to escape my life...

and my mistakes.

And when I'm here, I do.

And I'm happy.

And when the game's over...

I'm me again.

- God, that sounds pathetic. - No, no.

It doesn't.

So, FP.

What exactly went down with you and Alice?

Nothing serious.

Just messing around, which she was cool with.

But the more we've been playing,

the more I've been thinking, it could be more.

You should talk to her.

For real.

Take a shot. You're the Deadeye, after all.

I love my dad.

And I hate seeing him in pain.

Sometimes I... I just can't handle it.

But Sir Frederick doesn't have a sick dad.

So, I pretend that I'm here with you guys.

And I'm... free again.

Wait, wait, wait.

You and Fred Andrews?

We were lonely, Betty.

We were young, attractive, in the same room.

It was just once, a brief flame between two people,

that existed in that one moment.

But in the Blue and Gold?

We played for weeks.

Sneaking into school, late at night, getting deeper and deeper.

And we dubbed ourselves the Midnight Club.

We abandoned the board,

acting out our quests and adventures in the real world,

playing characters.

Some of us became a little more inseparable than others.

Wait, wait, shh...

What was that? You guys hear that?

Surrender.

-Hermione? -Hiram?

-Sierra? -Tommy?

Are you playing G&G, too?

We had thought we were special.

-Have been for about a week now. -Daryl Doiley found it

-in the restricted section of the library. -Relinquish your Game Master duties.

Make me, heathen.

We joined forces, started playing a bigger game.

The line between Gryphons and Gargoyles

and real life became blurred.

In a dangerous way.

We found these strange invitations in our lockers.

"Members of the Midnight Club, come to the Detention Room tonight."

"Rise to the challenge."

"And ascend to the next level of the game."

Hell, yeah.

"Eagerly yours, the Gargoyle King."

Welcome to the Ascension Party.

"Find the chalices.

Flip the Gryphon coin for your fate.

Drink from the chalice,

and meet your destiny.

The successful among you will ascend to the third level."

Sounds simple enough.

Not much of a party.

So, why don't we make it one?

What's that, Hiram?

Fizzle Rocks. They're new.

Just hit the streets.

I was pregnant with your brother. I didn't take any.

But to this day, I wonder what was in those drugs.

Maybe whatever turned us into monsters.

Kudos on the whole Ascension Party thing. Very rad.

Me? I thought you did all this. It was set up when I got here.

Or maybe we'd been monsters all along.

Ascension Night was frenzied from the start.

The festivities began with an impromptu concert

by the Fred Heads.

That night, our dark doppelgangers were released,

and we all went a little bit insane.

High on Fizzle Rocks, and the very game itself.

Principal Featherhead must've learned of our trespassing,

and was investigating.

God help me, Betty, I could've said something. Stopped him.

I could've prevented what came next. But instead I just left.

I spent the night calling the Midnight Club.

No one picked up.

They must've been caught, or expelled.

Maybe even arrested.

I went to Principal Featherhead's office, maybe to confess,

but...

-Hi. Is Principal Featherhead in? -Not yet.

He should be in later, if you want an appointment.

Are you okay, Alice? Do you wanna see the nurse?

No. Hermione.

Thank God.

I've... I've got this bad feeling.

Were things okay last night?

You didn't hear?

I knew it. What happened?

-FP was supposed to tell you. -Tell me what?

Fred's dad...

He died while we were at the Ascension Party last night.

Fred found him when he got home.

By the time Mr. Andrews' funeral came around a few days later,

Principal Featherhead had been declared officially missing.

And we were all waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It was a beautiful service, Fred. I should've been there when he...

You have to stop beating yourself up, man.

There's nothing you could've done.

-He was sick. -And he died alone.

Because I was high,

running around school like an idiot, with you guys.

Fred.

Look, between this and Featherhead going MIA,

we're all a little on edge.

I saw him that night... at the school.

During the Ascension Party, I saw Featherhead.

The next morning, he was gone. Did anyone else run into him?

Do we tell someone?

You didn't... see... anything.

-Penelope. -Nobody did.

Want the finger pointed at us because we happened to be doped up

and trespassing on the night Featherhead disappeared?

We don't know what, if anything, happened to him.

And no one else knows we were there.

So, we keep our mouths shut.

Agreed? Agreed?

The rumors spread like wildfire.

Everyone had a theory about what happened to Featherhead.

But no one guessed the gruesome truth,

that Mr. Featherhead had been right under our noses.

And by the next week, it was impossible

to ignore the flies and the smell.

There was blue liquid in the chalices when I saw them.

Featherhead's corpse had blue lips.

And the police said he had poison in his system.

-What did you guys do to him? -What do you mean, what did we do?

You were there, too, Alice.

-And you're the only one that saw him. -Because you guys were tripping.

And who was even wearing that insane Gargoyle King costume, anyway?

What are you talking about? We were in our normal outfits.

And the chalices were empty.

The Lady Smith doth protest a little too much, methinks.

Yeah.

Pretty convenient that you left early.

Tell us what you did to Featherhead.

Wait. This is ridiculous.

Fred, you're the Radiant Knight. You always do the right thing.

-You'll go to the cops with me? -We're not telling the cops.

Why suddenly such a rule-breaker, Penelope? Because you killed him?

And how would I have killed him? With our magic chalices?

Yeah. The goblets were full when I went into the bathroom, okay?

Maybe you poisoned them when you set up the quest.

Except for I didn't set up the quest.

Neither did Daryl.

We were as in the dark as the rest of you.

Guys, the chalices were just sitting there.

Any of us could've drank from them.

So, whoever invited us to the Ascension Party

was trying to kill one or more of us.

Then we have to destroy the game,

so it can't be traced back to us.

The manuals.

We destroy the manuals, scatter everything else.

I was outnumbered. At least that's what I tell myself now.

- I'll handle the dice. - Left in a Monopoly box,

forgotten among the other mismatched pieces.

I've got the chalices.

Nestled among other cups in the trophy case.

- I'll dispose of the manual. - Thrown in Sweetwater River.

And I'll burn our copy.

Right. Everyone, spit. We're making a pact.

From this moment on, no one talks about Gryphons and Gargoyles.

It's a secret. Forever.

To the grave.

To the grave.

After playing G&G, it was a return to reality.

We went our separate ways, and...

burdened by our guilt, became different people.

The wannabe rock star sold his guitar,

and began breaking rocks at his family business.

The Catholic schoolgirl went against her mother's wishes

and began a lifetime of compromises.

-Where did you get it? -Don't you worry about that, mi amor.

Romeo and Juliet took their curtain call.

Maybe when we're older...

things will be different.

I'll wait for you, Sierra. I hope you'll do the same.

The game master became the pawn.

I wanna live in Thornhill, forever and ever, Clifford.

The world outside is...

It's too dangerous.

The high-school MVP became a greaser gang member.

The biker girl traded her leathers for a big lie.

Hey, there, Hal Cooper.

Any chance you're free for a malt at Pop's?

When the Midnight Club passed each other in the halls,

we didn't so much as smile.

We'd become strangers again.

Okay.

But...

Wait, if Principal Featherhead died because he drank from a poisoned chalice,

then who poisoned the cups?

I don't know.

His death was ruled a suicide, under suspicious circumstances.

And we never spoke about it,

because it must've been a member of the Midnight Club.

The unthinkable.

One of us was a murderer.

But how did they know that Featherhead would show up,

and that he'd drink from the cups?

That's what's so terrifying.

The killer couldn't have known.

Which meant whoever poisoned the cups meant

for one of us to drink it at the end of the quest.

So, Featherhead was an unintentional casualty.

I'm sorry, Mom.

But if we're gonna figure out how to stop what's happening now,

I have a lot more questions.

Elizabeth.

When you play the game,

the more you talk about it,

the more you think of it,

the more at risk you are.

Mortal risk.

But from what?

People on the outside? The Game Masters?

And on the inside, the players.

The game, it gives you permission to...

hurt or kill,

themselves, their enemies, their friends.

Ben, Dilton, Ethel.

They all willingly drank the Fresh-Aid, during their chalice quest.

But was it murder or suicide?

In the end, it's just death, Betty.

Please, promise me you won't investigate it.

You know I can't do that, Mom.

Someone from your club used the game to murder Featherhead.

Now my classmates are dying...

and the whole school is playing the game.

I saw a creature in the woods.

I think the same one you saw at the school.

The Gargoyle King.

What if it's the same person, from the Midnight Club, then and now?

I know you're scared, Mom.

But we can't be silent anymore.

You see where that's gotten us.

Just, please... swear to me.

Swear to me that you won't play it.

I won't play the game. I promise.

Okay, well...

A good detective always vets her sources.

Hiding in plain sight the whole time.

Juggie? Jug.

You won't believe the story my mom told me last night.

Jug.

What are you doing?

Betty.

It's all making sense. All of this is becoming clear.

The game, the Gargoyle King.

I'm on Level three. It's only a matter of time until I ascend.

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