A Garden of Impossible Objects

This piece hit me hard emotionally both when I first played it last year and when I replayed recently in preparation for reviewing. Having had a death in my family a few years ago that reminded me in several ways of the death at the core of this work, I felt a strong resonance with its depiction of how it feels to be left with unanswered questions in the wake of an unexpected death. And more particularly, how visiting the deceased’s house—getting an intimate glimpse into the life of someone no longer living—can create more mysteries than it solves.

The story is told by an unnamed teen; the deceased was their aunt, Carmen, and they visit her house with their mother, Carmen’s sister. The two lived far apart and don’t seem to have kept in touch regularly: the teen narrator barely remembers Carmen, and the mother doesn’t initially display, outwardly at least, a strong reaction to her sister’s passing. There’s not even any mention of a funeral. The narrator and their mother make the journey to Carmen’s house solely (purportedly, at least) so that the mother can pick up some things Carmen was storing for her. This means the narrator sees the house and all its quirks, from the garage Carmen turned into a combination wood shop and greenhouse to the funky art pieces Carmen created and scattered around her yard, only after Carmen is gone.

As this is a horror work, the mother’s apparent stoicism doesn’t hold as the two explore deeper and deeper into Carmen’s space, encountering unexplained things like a basement full of party streamers and mail addressed to someone the mother has never heard of. The mother is seeking those old belongings that Carmen held onto for her, but no matter where she searches, basement to bedroom to the maze Carmen created on her property, she can’t find them. She remains convinced, though, that Carmen wouldn’t have thrown the stuff away, telling herself and her child that she knows Carmen would respect her possessions because she knows Carmen, despite the evidence to the contrary.

Seeing the mother’s grief bubble up and spill out through the eyes of someone who doesn’t understand it and can’t relate made it hit all the harder. The story is told over a backdrop of colorful edited photos and digital paintings, not trying to realistically capture Carmen’s house and yard but very effectively creating a mood. The mother sprite, and the changes it undergoes, was a visual highlight as well. (I just wish there was a “history” feature, like Ren’Py has, so that I could have referred back to earlier text.)