Spoilers for Link's Awakening, a game that first came out in 1993. And if you're wanting to play it for the plot...I'm happy to offer up some suggestions for different Zelda games that will scratch that itch for you.
So, Legend of Zelda: Links Awakening was first released on the Game Boy. The big Game Boy. The one where I had a power adapter that plugged into the wall, because my mom refused to buy any more AA batteries. The one where I had a designated Game Boy playing chair with a lamp (because the Game Boy was hard to see) and my power outlet. And--not to brag, but--I had the fun magnifying glass attachment that I thought would make people want to talk to me.
Recently, they re-released it for the Switch and updated the graphics and the music and everything. So I recently bought a Switch to play this game again. (I know, okay. I know.)
Now, if you haven't played this game, it's a weird one. At the beginning, Link is sailing a tiny boat alone through a storm, when the ship is destroyed and he washes up on an island. In order to escape the island (according to a random owl), he must wake the Wind Fish, and he must do this by gathering the eight fancy instruments (each at the end of a dungeon) and playing a song in front of the Wind Fish's egg. None of the recurring cast appears in this game. There's no Zelda. No Impa. Not a single reference to Ruto. And there are weirdly a bunch of enemies from the Mario games. But the weirdest part of all is that about half way through the game, it becomes clear that the sleeping Wind Fish is dreaming the whole island. All the dungeons and monsters are part of his dream. But so are all the people who live there, along with all their histories and hopes and dreams. Waking the Wind Fish will cause the island to vanish and everyone who lives there to disappear.
And yet, the designers of this game intended for me to keep playing. I continue to collect instruments and interact with people who are going to cease to exist because of my actions. And I just keep on going. But I feel bad knowing that the "right" thing to do would be to stop collecting instruments and live a nice, quiet life on this fairly nice island.
Why doesn't he just...not? Why don't I just stop playing?
In part, I kept playing in hopes that maybe there had been a mistake. Maybe they've changed it so after I beat the final boss, it turns out that that owl giving me directions is evil and I have to fight him to save the island. Maybe there's not going to be a cut scene at the end where I see every character that was kind to me go up in a flash, and then I'm left floating in the ocean on the few pieces of driftwood while the Wind Fish sails away. Or maybe I've forgotten that the Wind Fish gives me a ride back to Hyrule...
Oh...No? Okay...Bye, Wind Fish! See ya in hell, I guess.
These dilemmas actually pop up a lot in Zelda games. The most glaring being if you ever play through Ocarina of Time for a second time (or eighth time). In that one, Zelda has this great idea to gather up these magic stones to open a door to the spirit realm, and Link goes and does that, but when he opens the door to the spirit realm half way through the game, it unleashes unspeakable horrors and the second half of the game takes place in a post-apocalyptic environment. So on the second play through, you think "...Wait a second. If I just did nothing, there would be no problem and the world would not need saving."
There's another part like this in Skyward Sword when you finish up a dungeon and right as you get to the end, Impa pops up and yells at you for taking so long, and thank goodness she was here to handle everything, and if you're not going to do better, why don't you just go home? And, chastised, I wondered...why don't I just go home? I mean...Impa looks like she's got this, and who am I anyway?
And the answer here for why I don't just stop playing is that there is more game to play, and it's still enjoyable even if I ought not be doing it.
The real problem comes when this happens in a novel, and I start to question, "Why don't you just go home?" "Why don't you just not try to date this dude?" "Why don't you just use that magic mirror Sirius gave you to talk to him in case of emergencies?" It's not a plot hole; it's a failure of motivation. And it's the worst.
I worked really hard in my last novel to make sure my main character's motivation made sense, that the reader bought into why he NEEDED to do all this nonsense. I wanted the reader to understand it was a bad idea, but also understand that it needed to be done. I worked so hard on it. And I succeeded, by which I mean no one has called me on the beginning since I worked on it so hard.
They called me on it at the 2/3 mark.
The nonsense escalates, and it gets to the point where the reader asks, "Why is anyone else letting him keep doing this? Why don't they just stop him?"
And I banged my head against a table. Because they're right, and I need to devote a big chunk of time to working on that.
I forget where I first heard the best piece of parenting advice I've ever received. It's this: If anyone ever starts their advice that starts with "Why don't you just..." that advice is bad. That word "just" implies that the solution is easy, and I'm just too wrapped up in my own drama to see that simple solution, that I'd rather complain about how my life is so difficult than do something easy that will fix my problem.
And when I was new at this parenting thing and doing everything wrong, that implication that it was easy for everyone else just made me feel worse. Is there a simple answer, and I'm just too stupid to make it work? Clearly no one else has this problem, and I am a disaster. But being able to recognize--to have a key word like an alarm that would go off--made it so I could say, "Wait. No. This is bad advice." It would stop that spiraling before it could get started.
In writing it's the opposite. When a reader asks, "Why doesn't he just..." it means there is an easy answer to the problem, and the reason the writer doesn't have the characters do that is because they want the book to keep going. If the characters don't answer a call to adventure, there's no story, and the writer wants there to be a story. If I stop playing Link's Awakening because I don't want to destroy the island, then I'm not playing the game. If Harry Potter calls Sirius on his mirror phone and Sirius picks up and says he's fine, the whole last act doesn't happen.
When someone says, "Why doesn't the character just..." that's when you, as a writer, need to pay attention. That's when you have a horrible problem and a big revision in the future.
When they say, "Why don't you just..." and then they suggest some way to fix something that's broken in your story...that maybe you can ignore.
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