The Official Radiohead at Glastonbury 2017 Video Game

<center>THE OFFICIAL RADIOHEAD AT GLASTONBURY 2017 VIDEO GAME</center> <center><img src="http://i.imgur.com/CeOhDth.jpg" border="3"></center> <center>[[START PLAYING|Landing]]</center> <right><h2>image credit: martialartsnomad.com on flickr</h2></right>

Selfish! Your best friend is still asleep! You shake them conscious and urgently sound that Radiohead have already started playing as *Burn the Witch* echoes quietly through the thin skin of your tent. They seem grumpy about this. [[*-Suggest it might be a good time to head to the stage.*-> 002]] [[*-Send them back to sleep.*-> 003]]

<center><img src="http://i.imgur.com/kBGVMGv.jpg?1" border="3"></center> <right><h2>image credit: Nina AJ on flickr</h2></right> It’s the end of a barnstorming Glastonbury 2017 weekend. You and your best friend were lucky enough to get tickets to see your favourite band, Radiohead, grace the main stage for the first time in twenty years! You couldn't sleep all weekend and now the moment is almost upon you both. [[*-Can you make it to the front in time?*|001]]

You explain carefully that now is perfect time to head to the stage. You remind your best friend of one of the key points of your thesis. Your thesis was on the numerology of Radiohead. By entering into their set at 20:00 precisely, you are amplifying the power of their sound. You told your friend all about this last night but they still don’t seem to be following. [[*-Understanding is thirsty work. Offer them some water.* -> AAA]] [[*-They’ll never appreciate the numeric perfection of Radiohead. Put them back to sleep.* -> 003]]

You look at your best friend kindly as they roll their eyes and turn away from you. Spotting an opportunity, you slip the crook of your elbow under their chin and round their neck. You press the palm of your hand against the back of their head and collapse your full weight onto them. You squeeze ever tighter as they thrash and kick themselves off to dreamland. [[*-Pat them on the shoulder and leave the tent. You don’t want to waste any more time.* -> 004]]

You pull their canteen out of your bag and waggle it in their face invitingly. “Here. Drink this. It’ll help”, you intone. The moron slaps it out of your hand and accuses you of spiking it with mescaline like you did the previous two nights. [[-Offer them the water again. Explain that there definitely isn’t any mescaline in it this time. -> AAB]] [[-You don’t have time for these absurd fantasies. Put them in a sleeper hold. -> 003]]

Your best friend looks at you with disgust and shouts that this has been the worst weekend of their life; they just want to go to sleep and forget any of it ever happened. You take a swig from the canteen and enjoy that familiar mescaline buzz. [[*-You’d rather go alone at this point anyway. Help them out by putting them in a sleeper hold.* -> 003]]

You leave your friend sleeping peacefully inside the tent. They had a rough night and aren’t in the mood for something as thrilling as Radiohead’s return to Glastonbury after twenty years. It is dark outside and you home in on the crowd’s willing supplication to this higher power. You join the back of the crowd. There they are, tiny mannequins floating above a powerful sea of people. You savour the image. One young man at your side is particularly animated. He is surely too young to have ever seen Radiohead headlining Glastonbury before. He would only have seen them off to the side in some shanty. He is firing commentary out to his neighbours in the crowd. Perhaps you ought to engage with him. [[*-Engage with the young man at the back of the crowd.* -> 005]]

The young man is grateful for someone to respond to his running commentary on the band. He assures you several times that he is very excited to see Radiohead headlining Glastonbury after twenty years on the sidelines. You agree with him and feel motivated to respond. [[*-Put the young man in a sleeper hold.* -> AAC]] [[*-Tell the young man about the significance of the number 20.* -> 006]]

You try to put the young man in a sleeper hold but he interprets your movement towards him as affection and he pulls you into a hug. He lingers too long and smells a bit too much like a teenager’s bedroom. “Twenty years is my entire lifetime. Can you believe it?” he cries. [[*-Tell the young man the full occult significance of this auspicious ceremony.* -> 006]]

You tell the young man that the number 20 is a blend of energies. The number 2 corresponds to an entity’s purpose and vibrates with all things. The number 0 denotes the beginning of a journey. Five times five is twenty five, which is the date today. The young man looks like he is putting a lot of energy into paying attention. He glances anxiously at the stage. [[*-His lack of interest is palpable. Cut the conversation short.* -> AAD]] [[*-He is unstimulated by this simplistic approach. Introduce him to some higher concepts.* -> 007]]

You intuitively reach for his throat but he is paying too close attention to your movements. He writhes at just the right second and transitions your lunge into a ‘bro-hang.’ That’s not your style!. You hang there in contact with him for a moment. He grins at you. [[*-He did not come here to fight but to learn. Introduce him to the advanced concepts of your thesis.* -> 007]]

You ask the young man if he knows where King Arthur was buried. He blinks and smiles and says he thought that King Arthur was a made-up person. He’s landed right where you want him. What if, you ask him, the burial of “King Arthur” was not a burial at all but a ceremony at a position that announced a profound truth down the generations. Does he think that there is anything interesting in the fact that the alleged tomb is at the intersection of the A39 and A361 roads? His smile is thinning. [[*-You have barely scratched the surface. Tell him more.* -> 008]]

You ask the young man how many letters are in the title of OK Computer, and how many letters are in the title of In Rainbows. You then ask him if it is interesting to him that these albums were released ten years apart and if he happens to know the height in meters from the ground to the point of each of the ogives in Glastonbury Abbey. The young man looks dazed. He mutters something about having to find a friend and turns his back, heading in the direction of the stage. How rude of him. [[-Get his undivided attention. -> 009]]

At the sight of the young man’s retreating back, your instincts kick in and you leap across the distance he has put between you. You curl your arm around his neck and pull both your masses backwards. Your execution is perfect: He can barely wound you with his flailing elbows and desperate fingers before he slides peacefully off into an interminable unconsciousness. You lie there on the hard ground, close as lovers, and you feel incredibly self-conscious. You just fell over while attracting his attention: You mouth this silently to yourself. You get up and act really casual to avoid suspicion but no one around has any idea you’re even there. [[*-Enter the crowd.* -> 010]]

The crowd is getting thicker as you make your way to the front. It’s getting harder to see the stage. These people probably don’t even like Radiohead... Ugh. Another challenge. Some prick with his girlfriend on his shoulders blocks your path and fully spoils your view of the stage, your beacon. There’s no easy way around. [[*-State the importance of you getting to the front row.* -> AAE]] [[*-There’s no time to negotiate.* -> 011]]

You try to shout above the noise directly into the back of that prick’s head. You put across the best points of your thesis well, you think, but he just can’t hear you. [[*-On second thought, you can probably just push past him.* -> AAF]] [[*-What an ignoramus! Show that prick who’s boss and put him in a sleeper hold.* -> 011]]

Clever thinking. You secrete yourself right up behind that prick and focus all your chakras onto your prey. Unfortunately, his neck - certain to be his weak point - is obscured by the girl’s pert rear bobbing rhythmically mere centimetres from your face. You give it a go anyway and end up pulling her dramatically from his shoulders and on top of you into the mud below. A few people clap sarcastically. [[*-Finish the job and put that prick in a sleeper hold.* -> AAG]] [[*-Embrace the energy of the moment and talk to his girlfriend about your important work.* -> 012]]

You begin to slide your arm through the tight space between that prick and the reveller next to him. As you try to wiggle your shoulder into the forming gap, *2 + 2 = 5* is playing and you wonder if you’ll ever make it through this mass of flesh and sinew in time. Suddenly, that prick becomes fully aware of your subtle machinations and violently elbows you back onto to the ground behind him. You’re back where you started. [[*-Explain to him clearly that your work eclipses any of his petty business.* -> AAE]] [[*-Challenge him to a duel.* -> 011]]

Now you’ve got that fucking prick exactly where you want him. You throw his disorientated girlfriend off you and erect yourself immediately. Your revenant, that prick, asks you what the fuck you’re doing but you don’t have time for that kind of witty repartee. You expertly dance around him and aim your arm right round his vulnerable throat. Somehow, he deflects the shot and shoves you down hard into the mud on top of his girlfriend. She squeals. [[*-Talk to that prick’s girlfriend about numerology while she cries quietly.* -> 012]] [[*-She’s probably seen too much. Put the girl in a sleeper hold.* -> PARALYSIS]]

The three of you are sitting down in the mud. You feel foolish and the prick looks angry and out of breath. His girlfriend apologises for his loutish behaviour. You explain that the repeating wavelengths of this particular bar of *2 + 2 = 5* can cause quantum interference in the microtubules of key neurons, which explains his actions perfectly. She shakes her head. She can’t hear you over the music. [[*-Elaborate on your theory more loudly.* -> 013]]

You wake from a timeless, dreamless sleep. You can sense there’s been some fuss but you can’t quite put your finger on what it is. Your vision is hazy. You try and roll over but you can’t, for some reason. Maybe you’re tucked in a little too tightly? But you try to move your fingers and they won’t move… You gain focus and flick your eyes down to see your emaciated body.. Machines breathe for you now. Presently, some tidy looking Police Officers come in to have a chat with you about some crimes you might have done during that famous Radiohead at Glastonbury concert a few months ago. They list: *One common assault; two claims of GBH; no murders. One young man may never walk again. One young lady needs round-the-clock psychiatric care.* <center>**CONGRATULATIONS 20% VICTORY! YOU GOT TO SEE YOUR FAVOURITE BAND RADIOHEAD AT GLASTONBURY 2017 BUT DIDN’T YOU WANT TO MAKE IT TO THE FRONT ROW?** [[*-Start again.* |Landing]] [[*-Have another go at tackling that prick.* | 010]] </center>

You raise your voice and tell the prick’s girlfriend that the change in time signatures of this song is intended to create a sense of wholeness as it keys with the soul urge number of the year it was composed but that her prick boyfriend must have a faulty brain. You wouldn’t be surprised if every aspect of his life was so inharmonious, you shout. The prick can’t hear what you’re saying but doesn’t like that his girlfriend is rapt in attention with his sworn enemy. He stands up and urges her to do the same so that they start arguing right there in front of you. They start up one of their arguments. You can’t quite make out what they’re saying but it’s definitely not interesting and distracting you from your only objective. [[*-Get the better of that prick while his mind’s elsewhere.* -> 014]] [[*-Do the right thing and set things right with this couple: Talk them down.* -> AAH]]

You watch, amused, as that prick and his girlfriend exchange vitriolic slurs but you’ve not lost focus. Sensing an unbeatable opportunity, you snake around behind the prick and lock him into the best sleeper hold you’ve ever pulled off. He’s down almost instantly. His girlfriend’s screams orchestrate your artform and begin to perfectly counteract the waveforms of the music. There is only blissful silence now. You push that prick’s face down hard into the deep mud where life began and climb astride his twitching body. You, him and the music become one; a perfect trinity. Strange sounds come out of the mud and it’s a bit distracting. [[*-That’s right: You still need to get to the front row!* | 015/016]]

You try and get between the prick and his poor captive of a girlfriend and change the topic to Radiohead. You tell them how beat of *Pyramid Song* has a period of four 3/4 measures and one 4/4 measure. You ask them if they happen to know how many faces and sides a pyramid has but they’ve not been listening to you. They seem to be in the full swing of an argument about the people from Meetup.com he chose to look after their dog. [[*-It sounds like those people are irresponsible. Better teach that prick a lesson.* -> 014]] [[*-Weigh in on this dog issue.* -> AAI]]

You wave to gain the couple’s attention and ask them the name of this dog that has been left at home. You also need to know its date of birth. With just these two pieces of information you will be able to run them through a vibrational matrix (anchored at its edges to **7 October 1968**) to determine whether the dog is happy with them as its owners or not. They don’t provide you with that information and turn away from you. [[*-Put this terrible dog-hating prick into a full-on sleeper hold.* -> 014]]

Your ears are ringing and your guts are tight as you elbow and dance your way through the crowd. Time bends to your wishes and soon you are at the front row. The front row of Radiohead at Glastonbury 2017! You find that you are standing next to a famous music journalist. He is, really, heavily into the music. You long to join him there on whatever perfect geometric plane he exists on. You should just shut your eyes and let the song - No! You can’t pass up this opportunity to talk about Radiohead with someone who is on the same intellectual plane as you. [[*-See if you can introduce this famous journalist to the deeper, truer, Radiohead you know.* -> AAJ]] [[*-On second thought, you don’t want a potential rival stealing your ideas. Better take him out of the picture.* -> 017]]

You introduce yourself to the journalist. He may have heard of your work, but you admit freely that it’s a little too academic to penetrate the mainstream. Perhaps he may be able to help you with that, him having gained the ear of thousands of Radiohead fans who would potentially like to enjoy their favourite band on a more- No, he doesn’t seem to be in a state to understand words. He is swaying and staggering. Is that drool down his shirt? [[*-Lift him from his stupor with a show of candour.* -> AAK]] [[*-He’s already asleep. You might as well make it official with a sleeper hold.* -> 017]] [[*-Distract him by knocking off his hat.* -> AAL]]

You wrap your strong arm around his neck and he readily collapses against your chest. You think solemnly to yourself that it’s almost too easy; but there’s a satisfying crunch and pop as his body goes instantly limp. No one seems any the wiser so you just place him down gently in the mud. He’s going to wake up with a bit of a headache, you chuckle to yourself. [[*-Enjoy the show. You’ve earned it!* -> AAM]] [[*-Strip the journalist naked and put on his clothes.* -> BAA]] [[*-Find a way to make it backstage!* -> 018]]

Knowing that journalists are constantly seeking the real truth you decide to get real. You tell him that you find writing to be hard and dreadfully lonely. Is it like that for him too? You say that while you were writing your thesis your mum would call and bug you and whenever you were just entering a flow state the phone would ring and it would be her. She is so needy and wouldn’t have named you after dad if she knew the first thing about numerology. The famous music journalist blinks very slowly. You’ve opened up to him like a flower in blossom and it’s as if you’re not even there. [[*-Make a lasting impression.* -> 017]] [[*-Distract him first by knocking off his hat.* -> AAL]]

His hat falls awkwardly on his shoulder and then is trampled underfoot. What are you doing with this mannequin? [[*-End him.* | 017]]

Smartly played. You made it to the front just like you wanted. You mouth along to every song perfectly, matching every quirk and inflection of Thom Yorke’s voice. Yet, something still feels empty about the experience. You get the sensation that you could have really contributed something but you don’t know what. It reaches the encore and your spirits lift a little with the opening Cm chord of *Paranoid Android.* For a moment, you are whole. Then the police haul you over the barrier. [[*-Be arrested.* -> ARRESTED ENDING 1]] [[*-Put one of the Police in a sleeper hold.* -> BRUTALITY ENDING]]

You remove the clothes of the famous music journalist and it isn’t easy, with him being dead. The people in the crowd jostle into you but your actions are quickened by purpose. **You are dressed in his clothes and now you are the famous music journalist.** You sense an imbalance and realise that, really, it’s him who ought to be wearing *your* clothes. You carefully adorn him. He is unrecognisable; muddy but he’s you, now. You admire yourself there, dead on the ground. What a life you led; a life that had brought you right here to the front row of Radiohead at Glastonbury 2017. Later on, some fresh-faced, naive looking Police Officers arrive and there’s a bit of a commotion over your dead body. You talk to them as that famous music journalist who, as usual, doesn't actually remember anything but knows a great deal about Radiohead. They’re more preoccupied with how someone could suffer a cleanly severed spinal cord and several shattered vertebrae just by listening to Radiohead. You take up most of the rest of the night explaining. [[*-Go home to your wife and family.* -> BAB]]

You’re so close to the band now you can see the whites of their eyes and it’s so loud and hypnotic you think you’re beginning to slip in and out of a fully wakeful state. Thom Yorke seems to be beckoning you on stage. What could he want? He’s definitely motioning for you to join in. He must have heard about you and your work. Now must be the time to reveal it to the world; at Radiohead’s triumphant return to Glastonbury! You’d never forgive yourself if you passed up such a golden opportunity. You reach down, swipe the journalist’s press pass and vault the barrier confidently. [[*-Go backstage.* -> 019]]

It takes you hours to find your car in a faraway field. You have to compare the number on your driving licence to almost every car in the town but you somehow manage it before the morning bell. You find your house and tell your family that Radiohead were fantastic at Glastonbury 2017. You were right there in the front row! They are frightened, but soon you calm them down. <center>**CONGRATULATIONS 60% VICTORY! YOU GOT TO SEE YOUR FAVOURITE BAND RADIOHEAD AT GLASTONBURY 2017 YOU MADE IT TO THE FRONT ROW BUT YOU BECAME SOMEONE ELSE BY ACCIDENT.**</center> [[*-Start again.* |Landing]] [[*-Relive the moment in which you took down the journalist.* | 017]] [[*-Relive your takedown of that prick.* | 010]]

You are arrested for your crimes and enjoy a brief period of notoriety. In the dock, your charges include: Trespassing backstage at a Radiohead's triumphant return to headlining Glastonbury. The unprovoked violent assault on a man who devoted his life to protecting the band you profess to love. The premeditated murder of a popular and well-respected music journalist. The long-term hospitalisation of a young academic with a loving family. His girlfriend had been expecting. The legal battle to have his life support terminated continues. The permanent maiming of a promising young athlete. His doctors say he’ll never walk again and that the pain is constant. The repeated assault and attempted poisoning of your so-called best friend. Your lawyer argues, unsuccessfully, to your innocence on the grounds of diminished responsibility. You are convicted on all counts. You die in prison. <center>**CONGRATULATIONS 75% VICTORY! YOU GOT TO SEE YOUR FAVOURITE BAND RADIOHEAD AT GLASTONBURY 2017 YOU MADE IT TO THE FRONT ROW YOU MADE IT BACKSTAGE BUT YOU ALSO MADE IT INTO PRISON.**</center> [[*Start again.* |Landing]] [[*Relive the moment when you met that well-respected music journalist.* | 017]] [[*Relive your glorious battle against that young athlete who was a prick.* | 011]]

Your attempt is obviously futile. The Police batons rain down on you as you struggle in the mud like the tadpole you are. You try to catch Thom Yorke’s eye between the silhouettes of your assailants but he hasn’t even noticed what’s happening. The next time you look he is looking right at you. Laughing. You roll beneath the blows. The five Policemen mutate into the five members of Radiohead as the beating intensifies. The stage is empty. There is no one else here now but you and Radiohead. Time crystallises. This moment lasts forever. <center>**CONGRATULATIONS 50% VICTORY! YOU GOT TO SEE YOUR FAVOURITE BAND RADIOHEAD PLAY AT GLASTONBURY 2017 YOU MADE IT TO THE FRONT ROW BUT FELL THROUGH A CRACK IN THE UNIVERSE???**</center> [[*-Think of how all this began.* |Landing]] [[*-Think of the happiest moment in your life.* | 017]] [[*-Think of your victory against that prick.* | 010]]

You are arrested for your crimes and enjoy a brief period of notoriety. In the dock, your charges include: The premeditated murder of a popular and well-respected music journalist. The long-term hospitalisation of a young academic with a loving family. His girlfriend had been expecting. The legal battle to have his life support terminated continues. The permanent maiming of a promising young athlete. His doctors say he’ll never walk again and that the pain is constant. The repeated assault and attempted poisoning of your so-called best friend. Your lawyer argues, unsuccessfully, to your innocence on the grounds of diminished responsibility. You are convicted on all counts. You try and use the media coverage surrounding your case to find a publisher for your thesis but the guards won't let you possess any lewd or inappropriate materials during your sentence. When you are finally released the world has forgotten Radiohead. <center>**CONGRATULATIONS 70% VICTORY! YOU GOT TO SEE YOUR FAVOURITE BAND RADIOHEAD AT GLASTONBURY 2017 YOU MADE IT TO THE FRONT ROW YOU DIDN'T WANT TO GO BACKSTAGE WHERE THE ACTION WAS AND THEN THEY PUT YOU AWAY.**</center> [[*-Start again.* |Landing]] [[*-Relive the moment when you met that well-respected music journalist.* | 017]] [[*-Relive your glorious battle against that young athlete who was a prick.* | 011]]

You glide, effortlessly, serenely through security and ascend the stairs to the stage. Your big moment is coming and your heart is racing but you feel ready. It’s going to be such a memorable treat for everyone when Radiohead stops the gig to introduce your thesis. You can see Thom clearly now but he’s not looking at you anymore. You stop to take in his beauty for a second. Without any warning, a big head with a grumpy face on it slides across your view. Another security guard. Probably the main security guard. He wants to know what business you have with the band. He eyes the fresh, long scratches across your forearms. All you want to do is put him in a sleeper hold. [[*-Put him in a sleeper hold.* -> AAR]] [[*-Tell him the big reason you’re here.* -> 020]]

The guard easily parries your clumsy lunge and pins you down to the ground. He looks at you with pity and more than a little revulsion as he radios it through. The band don’t notice. Not even when they walk right past you in preparation for the encore. Eventually, some tired looking Police Officers show up with your Judas friend from earlier. What are they doing? They’ve been ruining this weekend for you and now they’ve got the Police involved? Anyway, the Police have some questions for you about a couple of murders you might have committed. [[*-Get arrested.* -> ARRESTED ENDING 2]]

You show your press pass and extol the critical importance of your thesis to the world and the guard immediately softens. He asks who you write for, says he does some writing himself, and thinks you two may have more to talk about. [[*-Ask the guard about his writings.* -> 021]] [[*-Put him in a sleeper hold.* -> AAR]]

In no time at all you discover that the guard is also a student of the numerology of Radiohead! Soon you are talking about the sacred geometry described by the constructive interference between *No Surprises* and *Motion Picture Soundtrack* and how it relates to the city planning of Incan cites. You get so excited that you get the hiccups. [[*-Ask to see his stuff.* -> 022]] [[*-Go back to your tent and fetch your thesis to show him.* -> AAP]]

You ask to see the guard’s thesis and there is an audible twinkle in his eye. He reaches down to his bag on the floor before him and rummages through his papers. [[*-This might be a good moment to put him in a sleeper hold.* -> 023]] [[*-You must wait to hear what this kindred spirit has to say.* -> AAS]]

Excited and challenged by the intellectual gauntlet your new friend the guard has thrown down, you scurry off back towards your tent to retrieve a hard copy of your thesis. You go down the steps, past the barrier where no one has noticed the prone body of the famous music journalist, through the crowd and back to the hold in the mud where you left that prick. You halt there and are appalled that the paramedics are undoing all your work and are approached by some Policemen who want to talk to you. Your Judas friend is with them and so is the girlfriend of that prick. Something is wrong with their faces. They look so unhappy. [[*-Be taken into questioning.* -> ARRESTED ENDING 3]]

You are arrested for your crimes and enjoy a brief period of notoriety. In the dock, your charges include: Trespassing backstage at a Radiohead concert. The premeditated murder of a popular and well-respected music journalist. The long-term hospitalisation of a young academic with a loving family. His girlfriend had been expecting. The legal battle to have his life support terminated continues. The permanent maiming of a promising young athlete. His doctors say he’ll never walk again and that the pain is constant. The repeated assault and attempted poisoning of your so-called best friend. Your lawyer argues, unsuccessfully, to your innocence on the grounds of diminished responsibility. You are convicted on all counts. You calculate the most auspicious astrological moment for an escape but are asphyxiated in the attempt. <center>**CONGRATULATIONS 80% VICTORY! YOU GOT TO SEE YOUR FAVOURITE BAND RADIOHEAD AT GLASTONBURY 2017 YOU MADE IT TO THE FRONT ROW YOU MADE IT BACKSTAGE YOU MADE A FRIEND BUT NOW YOU'RE JUST ANOTHER NERVOUS MESSED UP MARIONETTE.**</center> [[*-Start again.* |Landing]] [[*-Relive the moment when you met that well-respected music journalist.* | 017]] [[*-Relive your glorious battle against that young athlete who was a prick.* | 011]] [[*-Relive your scintillating conversations with the guard.* | 019]]

Hmm. His guard is down. You instinctively lock his head into one of your unbreakable sleeper holds without regard for his salient ideas nor his personal safety. Your grip is true, as usual, but he’s stronger than you anticipated. You double your efforts. Your new friend seems confused. “Why?”, he begs as you slam his head into a nearby electricity box; again and again until he succumbs. “Please, please”, you talk softly to your comrade as foam begins to form at the corners of his mouth with each new blow. He’s down and out soon enough. You stroke him sensitively on the head as he slumbers, making sure to wipe the blood off onto your trousers. [[*-No going back now.* -> 024]]

The guard walks you through the bullet points of his thesis. His specialization is in fractals. You respect fractals although are more of a Platonic man yourself. He is showing you the figures he has drawn of fractal geometries drawn from the lyrics of *The King of Lambs* when some Policemen arrive backstage looking for a dangerous madman who has been putting people in sleeper holds. There is a pregnant pause. Your friend the guard says that you have been under his watch all day. The Policemen leave presently. [[*-Continue your discussion into the small hours.* |NEW FRIEND]]

The security guard’s papers dance out into the wind behind you as you approach Thom on stage. You’ll read his stuff later, you think to yourself as you recall how well the two of you had connected before you had to put him in a sleeper hold and smash his skull in. Thom Yorke is within arm’s reach of you now. [[*-You know what to do.* -> 025]]

You walk up to Thom Yorke in front of a crowd of 50 000 and you slide the crook of your elbow across his perfect throat. You can feel his adam's apple bobbing mournfully with the timbre of the words. The larynx is the true seat of the soul, you realise as you take the soft nape of his neck in the palm of your hand and he relents. Thom Yorke sighs and collapses into your frame, a baby put to sleep. You feel the ocean rising and the light crackles around him. A pitch, ever escalating, surges across you and into the world and you can feel that you both ascending, weightless in a sphere. God is here and you can hear him smiling, it is so bright and loud that you almost can't stand it. You see Thom's beautiful face dissolve into the seven Platonic solids looping within each other through dimensions you feel you always knew. You are aware of your own form becoming all forms and you and Thom are one and divine and forever. [[*-Forever* -> 026]]

You feel invigorated after returning alone from Glastonbury. Your mind is abuzz with all the experiences you had and you are eager to continue the relationship with your new student. He has much to learn. You add him on Facebook to get the ball rolling but he never accepts the request. You check his Twitter account during every meal. Three weeks after Glastonbury you catch him linking to a Youtube video he has lashed together from your ideas. He’s bowdlerised everything of yours, mixed it in with his own limited reachings and what is left is a shallow and nonsensical mess. A thorough write-up of it soon makes the front page of Pitchfork. Radiohead have him design their next EP, released in dedication to the lives lost at their famous Glastonbury 2017 set. You notice that the guard’s name seems to replace Stanley Donwood’s as Radiohead’s credited designer. Radiohead academic journals become briefly fashionable and you submit your thesis to them all. You don’t even receive a rejection letter. <center>**CONGRATULATIONS 90% VICTORY! YOU GOT TO SEE YOUR FAVOURITE BAND RADIOHEAD AT GLASTONBURY 2017 YOU MADE IT TO THE FRONT ROW YOU MADE IT BACKSTAGE YOU MADE A FRIEND ... BUT IT WASN’T THOM YORKE...**</center> [[*-Start again.* |Landing]] [[*-Relive the moment when you met that well-respected music journalist.* | 017]] [[*-Relive your glorious battle against that young athlete who was a prick.* | 011]] [[*-Relive your scintillating conversations with the guard.* | 019]]

An ugly arhythmic rasping makes you blink and in the light of a million twinkling stars you trace the outline of shapes in the distance. The tone of the crystals lowers to a burbling frog call of a crowd unsure of what they've seen. Something comforting but too heavy is in your arms. When you realise that the rasping is your breath your gasp brings in the smell of mud and sour sweat. You are aware of a tautness in your trousers and notice a soreness in your lower back that says you are sat on a hard stage. You look down and Thom Yorke is slumped in your lap. He's finally earned the rest he always said he wanted. <center>[[*CONGRATULATIONS 100% VICTORY! YOU GOT TO SEE YOUR FAVOURITE BAND RADIOHEAD AT GLASTONBURY 2017 YOU MADE IT TO THE FRONT ROW YOU MADE IT BACKSTAGE AND EVEN GOT TO MEET THOM YORKE!!!**]]<center> [[-Play again. |Start]]

<center><table> <tr> <th><h4>Other games from the same authors about:</h4></th> <th><h4>They also make an audio drama:<h4></th> </tr> <tr> <td><h4><A HREF="http://philome.la/teromemcnally/can-you-stop-jeremy-corbyn-from-joining-isis/play">Jeremy Corbyn</A></h4></td> <td><h4><A HREF="http://thesagaoftheeuropeanking.libsyn.com/">The Saga of the European King.</A></h4></td> </tr> <tr> <td><h4><A HREF="http://philome.la/teromemcnally/how-did-chewbacca-get-his-wookiee-bowcaster/play">Chewbacca</A></h4></td> <td></td> </tr> </table></center> </h2></right></table>