Riverdale

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.

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.