From Comp to Coastlines
Two little names in a loading screen,
late-night queue and a glowing team,
Die Robbe floating through the fight,
keeping everybody else alive.
Ice Bär diving from the high ground down,
boosters burning through a neon town,
one more round, one more overtime,
somehow always ending side by side.
You said, “Group up,” I stayed close,
you kept me standing when I needed it most.
We thought we came
to win a game,
but somewhere in the noise you learned my name.
Die Robbe and Ice Bär,
from comp games to mountain air,
from victory screens to open skies,
from midnight queues to sunrise.
You were my teammate,
then my best friend,
then suddenly I never wanted the match to end.
Now every trail, every sea,
every wild place feels like home to me,
Die Robbe and Ice Bär — you found me there.
Mercy wings in a losing fight,
D.Va mech at one HP that night,
bad team chat and a tilted round,
still somehow laughing when we went down.
Then came coffee, trains and rainy days,
walking farther than the maps could say,
boots in mud and wind in trees,
no objective marker telling us where to be.
No countdown, no payload line,
just your paw reaching into mine.
No rank to gain,
no points to lose,
just one whole world we get to choose.
Maybe love is not dramatic,
maybe sometimes it begins with somebody saying “behind you” through a cheap
old headset hiss. Maybe all the biggest stories start in places small
and strange — one good save,
one stupid joke, and suddenly your whole life changed.
So take the high ground,
I’ll follow you, past every map
we ever knew.
Die Robbe and Ice Bär,
summer sunlight everywhere,
no more walls and no more spawn-room doors,
just forests, hills and distant shores.
You were my teammate,
you’re my best friend,
and now I hope this little match doesn’t ever end.
Every trail, every sea,
every wild place means more with you and me,
Die Robbe and Ice Bär —
from comp to coastlines,
we found
each other there.
Queue complete.
Match found. Then somehow
—
life found.