This week on Monday Music we go back to the 80’s with Mr. Mister’s lilting ballad Broken Wings.
When I first came up with the idea of Monday Music, I wanted it to be an outlet for new songs I’ve discovered or old songs I’ve rediscovered. Sharing a tune that our readers might not have thought about in a while, or something they will love.
Let me weave you a tale about how Broken Wings entered my universe a few months ago, and how a sign from the universal dream we all occupy, returned.
It was many months ago. Snow still fell in Alaska, and the Birchwood Airpark was covered in a foot of soft fluffy powder. The hangar apartment I called my domicile was frigid. The cold steel walls towered over me, while the biting concrete floor sat below me, a constant reminder of how quickly life can fade. The thick, frozen air hung heavily in my lungs. Each breath carved a little glimmer of heat from my core. I sat there, fully dressed in winter attire, at my computer. The only thing keeping me warm was the light from my computer monitor. That and the space heater below my desk, but let’s forget about that, it’s less artistic.
The time of day (or night) is lost. The sun only visits me for a short few hours a day. Like a petulant drug dealer handing out samples, giving only small morsels of light and warmth, just enough to keep life going, but never thriving. Was it day? Or night? Nevertheless, it doesn’t matter. I spent my time sitting at my computer, playing video games. A short escape into a fantastical worlds. A brief escape. This time I was playing Overwatch. I was enjoying solo queue. Rounds won, and rounds lost even each other out. No progress being made in either direction. New friends came and went, each round had different entities. Everyone had their own world. Their own dream. Each digital character, directly attached to a physical, corporeal being. Dozens, if not hundreds came in and out of my dream. Some were great allies, while others were fucking salty scrubs. All memorable, but none as memorable as one ally. One singular creature came into my world, and he will forever be ingrained into my memories. That was a man, who went by the name: Brokenwings.
It was a round like any other. New friends thrown into a server. This particular group was full of vocal and jovial players – voice chat was running strong. Planning and tactics were the topic of conversation, as the timer ticked closer to zero. Zero. A poignant number. Normally reserved to represent the LACK of something. An emptiness. A void. The same emptiness we all have inside ourselves. The same void we frantically try to fill. In Overwatch, zero is a fickle mistress. Typically it carries the same real world representation. Empty. Health reserves: empty. Ammunition: empty. Progress: empty. But for one brief moment, at the beginning of the round, zero means something else. It means we are beginning! We are born again into the round. A whole new world of possibilities were thrust into our arms, and we got to choose which ones we consumed. My teammates and I were ready to go. We were ready to fight. We weren’t going to die for our country, but we were going to make the other team die for theirs. Me and my four teammates… and one Brokenwings.
First round was over, the score is lost to me in this moment, but at the half, I finally took inventory of the identities of my crew. Four other names lost to the cold void, but one I will forever remember. Brokenwings. Brokenwings. Brokenwings. He was a beacon of hope in the dark. Upon noticing this, I quickly took control of the voice chat. I shouted into the server “BROKENWINGS! LIKE THAT MR. MISTER SONG!”. The four others laughing, Brokenwings mic button remained unpressed. I could sense his laughter though. His utter silence was enough to tell me he understood. We were now best friends. Our souls connected. Our dreams entwined. Then: ZERO.
The round started. We all began to rush the point. Now the team was no longer strangers in a strange land, but brothers. Brothers in arms. Brokenwings at my side. We ran onto the point, and in normal fashion I was the first to fall in battle. As the respawn timer counted down to ZERO, I quickly pulled out my phone. 6: I scoured the desk for my phone. 5: I grabbed the device and unlocked the screen. 4: I closed the copy of the Desiderata I was reading. 3: Opened YouTube. 2:Typed in Brokenwings. 1: Pressed play on the song. When my character came back to life, the hissing cymbal of the tune came on across my speakers. As soon as I was given control of my character, I knew what must be done. I ran into battle… with my mic button pressed. The elegant melodies of Mr. Mister rang out into the server.
By the time I made it to the point, Richard Page’s angelic voice belted out the titular lyrics. TAKE! THESE BROKENWINGS! AND LEARN TO FLY AGAIN!
The server voice chat was a castrophony. Anger. Sorrow. Happiness. Laughter. All fed into a whirlwind of Mr. Mister. My teammates began singing along with me. A group of 5 men all belting out the same lyrics. All except the man himself. Brokenwings. I could tell by his silence that he was flattered, and honored that we all could be singing a tune in his honor. He was the man of the hour, but was humble. Said nothing. My bard like abilities filled everyone with vigor. We pushed harder and harder. Harder and harder. Faster and faster. Throwing ourselves at the point. A constant action over and over and over again. Live. Die. Repeat. We teetered on the definition of insanity. Constantly trying to do the same thing over and over again, hoping for different results. This time though, things WERE different. Mr. Mister was on a loop. We all singing the song for a third and fourth time. Laughter peppered throughout each chorus and verse. This magical concoction we created could only spell one outcome. And when the timer finally ran out, hit ZERO we knew what we had created. VICTORY!
The post game results came in. We had won! The final screen appeared and we all saw the actual man of the hour. Brokenwings was up for vote, as he was the game’s best healer. Of course the man who went under the title of Brokenwings would play as Mercy. The winged healer – so fitting, because his name itself caused us to win. Without his name, and his connection to 80’s pop rock group Mr. Mister, we would never have won. We all said our goodbyes, as we all exited the round and returned to the start menu. Laughter and happiness still flowed out of my mouth. For a brief moment, lost in the frozen desolate darkness, I found happiness. We found happiness. I stood up and took inventory of myself. I looked around and noticed that the room I once occupied was no longer frigid and dark, but was feeling full. Full of warmth and light. I noticed the Sun had started to shine into the windows of my hangar. I smiled as the warm rays enveloped my face. I felt loved. I felt whole. I felt content. Was it the silent powers of a random stranger on Overwatch that brought out the Sun? Or just the normal rotation of the earth? We will never be able to tell. And, what came over us in that game? Was it really just the machinations of a lonely Alaskan gamer trying to get attention by playing an 80’s ballad for a room a strangers? Or was it possible carbon monoxide poisoning from a potentially faulty Modine heater? No one will ever know. What we will know, is that for a brief moment. Six random heroes came together as brothers. As family. As ohana. All because of a single man, and the name he chose for his Blizzard account. We all salute you, Brokenwings.