The Quest for the Perfect Keyboard (and Why My Enter Key Betrayed Me)

When I got my first proper gaming PC earlier this year, I thought I was leveling up. You know — the huge shiny thing that lights up your room, heats your feet, and looks like it could take off if you press the power button too hard.

But as soon as I set it up, I realized I was missing one crucial piece of gear: a keyboard.

See, I used to type on my Asus gaming laptop, and that keyboard was perfect. Low-profile keys. One-line Enter. Long Shift. A magical key just for writing |. And — most importantly — all the Czech letters: ě, š, č, ř, ž… You get the idea. We use them a lot, and yes, we want them right there on the number line.

So naturally, I wanted the same kind of keyboard for my shiny new PC.

Low-profile. Backlit. Czech layout. One-line Enter. How hard could it be?

Turns out — very.

ANSI vs ISO: The Great Divide Nobody Warned Me About

If you’ve ever tried buying a keyboard in Europe, you’ve probably stumbled upon mysterious abbreviations like ANSI and ISO.

ANSI is the American standard — born in the land of long Shifts and elegant, one-line Enters.

ISO is the European one — made for languages with fancy diacritics, umlauts, tildes, and all that.

Somewhere in the process of adapting to those extra letters, someone decided to mutilate the Enter key. They chopped it into a weird reverse L shape. And just to make things more confusing, sometimes they also shortened the left Shift to make room for another random key (between Shift and Z — or Y, depending on where you live).

Functionally? Sure, it makes sense.

Aesthetically? It looks like someone spilled coffee on the keyboard design and said, “Let’s keep it that way.”

The Hunt

I wanted the best of both worlds — the ANSI shape, Czech letters, backlight, and low-profile design. Preferably without selling a kidney.

The result?

A cursed shopping spree.

My first keyboard looked promising — until the left Shift started sticking. At first, it only happened while sprinting in games. Later, even during normal typing. (There’s nothing like your Shift key refusing to cooperate right in the middle of a dramatic tweet.)

So I tried again. This time, in a slightly pricier pond.

I found another one: not low-profile, but fine. Czech letters — check.

The e-shop photos? ANSI layout — perfect!

What arrived? ISO.

With the ugliest Enter key I have ever seen.

I’m not saying I cried. But every time I look at it, a part of my soul presses Escape.

Epilogue: Acceptance (Sort Of)

The keyboard I have now works fine. It even has some multimedia buttons I didn’t know I needed. But every time I glance down, that Enter key mocks me — sitting there like a crooked tooth in an otherwise decent smile.

Maybe the perfect keyboard doesn’t exist. Or maybe it’s still sitting inside my old Asus laptop, quietly laughing at me from the shelf.

Funny thing — I spend hours optimizing my in-game builds, adjusting skill trees, and fine-tuning sensitivity settings. Yet here I am, defeated by a piece of plastic with questionable ergonomics.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned from this little quest, it’s that sometimes the most annoying grind doesn’t happen in a game — it happens on your desk.