We have implied on more than one occasion that Itzal lacks the patience of Job. Indeed, we may well have once compared his patience level to that of a shark in bloody water. Consider, too, the child with a pillowcase full of Halloween candy. Or how it feels when your computer locks up for no apparent reason. Or that time you were stuck in traffic for two hours because, well, you never did find out.
These are but trifles compared to Itzal’s impatience when playing Nintendo. Almost any repetitive task that doesn’t come off 100 percent successful every time frustrates him. Standing around trying to “learn” a skill bores him. Having to repeat, unsuccessfully, an unlearned task makes him throw the Joy-Cons on the couch and leave in a snit – in a huff if it’s been a particularly long day.
Meanwhile, Demelza, the ever patient, must sit by and watch – carefully, if Joy-Cons are being thrown her way. Only on the rare occasion does she offer, “Had you merely learned this skill in the first place, you wouldn’t be frustrated now.” (NOTE: This use of the words “rare occasion” might be comparable to the rare occasion on which the clock strikes three every afternoon; you can bank on it.) But we digress.
What we are trying to say, in short (we know, Gentle Reader, you are tempted to shout, “TOO LATE!”), is that even though Itzal does not learn these skills, they must still be employed during game play. The Guardian’s laser must be parried, the iron grate blocking a watery tunnel must be jumped over, the spin attack must be spun in an attackish manner.
Blah, blah, blah.
To be clear, Itzal and Demelza do eventually manage to employ these skills, sometimes badly and often after hours of frustration – nay, after days of frustration, when Itzal’s huff carries him away until the next day’s play. And, yes, we said “Itzal and Demelza” because, increasingly, Itzal hands over the Joy-Cons and Demelza saves the day by putting just the spin on the long-suffering spin attack and leaping over an iron grate before Itzal sends Link to a watery grave yet again. (The fact that she then remains immobile, terrified of making a wrong move and reversing her success, until Itzal can pry the Joy-Cons from her frozen fingers, should not diminish her occasional contributions.)
These are, we admit, accidents. We are often as surprised as Link must be. We have not bothered – that is, Itzal has not – to learn these things. We pull them off by accident. And, just as the adage admonishes that hope is not a strategy, well, friends, neither is an accident.
Blah, blah, blah.
The moral of this blog? Take your time. Learn the skill. Practice. Be the Anti-Itzal as you breathe deeply and patience rests about you like clouds rest on mountaintops. Be at one with the Joy-Cons and – well, you know – blah blah blah.
We now return you to your regularly scheduled game play. Or snit, if you’re impatient.