Strange Horticulture unravels slowly, as each new patron is welcomed into the shop. With the ring of a bell, a person approaches the counter, where a black cat named Hellebore lounges. Not all patrons are looking for plants; there’s one character who simply delivers mail, for instance. But when a customer has a request — say, for St. John’s Poppy, which will improve their hearing — I’ve got to identify that specific plant on my shelves by flipping through my reference book. Sometimes the customer knows the name of the plant, so I flip to that page to see what it looks like, and carefully choose a plant based on visuals alone. Elsewhere, customers only know the affliction they’d like to fix, so I rummage through the pages to find a plant that’ll cure the malady.

It all plays out very simply, researching and tossing plants under a microscope for a better look. There are labels in three colors that players can use to keep track of plant names, or use some entirely different method of organization, but it’s not required. My plant shop, for instance, was a chaotic mess. I ended up labeling some plants but organized my shelves in a way that would only make sense to me. The active sense of organization and the tactile feel of research and plant care can shift with each individual player.

In addition to selling plants, I also work to discover completely new ones, which is where the map comes in. By following clues embedded in various letters and garnered from conversations with customers. I explore squares on the map. Some clues require mysterious tools to solve, found in the stuff that’s laying around my desk.