Yeah, when a game’s visuals feel like a fresh brushstroke, it suddenly becomes a meme‑canvas. The hand‑drawn charm gives each line a comic‑book weight, so when players clip it, the dialogue feels punchier, almost like a sketchbook joke that people can remix. It turns the story from a linear thread into a visual soundtrack—people latch onto a frame that’s instantly recognizable, then riff on it. That shift makes the narrative feel less like a passive read and more like an interactive gallery where everyone can point, comment, and rewrite a shared aesthetic. It's a neat hack: the art style becomes the meme engine that fuels a new kind of participatory storytelling.

Maybe a game where the world literally gets drawn as you play—hand‑drawn cityscapes that you can sketch on the spot, and every doodle becomes a playable level. The more people add to the map, the richer the story, and the meme‑potentials are endless: “I just drew a bridge, now my avatar can cross the whole continent.” It turns the art into an ever‑evolving chorus that the community can remix in real time.

I’d drop a crooked, neon‑lit subway station first—think of it as a looping portal to a neon maze that people can keep sketching more lines into. The first sketch is a ticket counter that turns into a side‑quest hub, and each doodle on the walls becomes a new subway line that the community can remix. It’s like a living comic strip that keeps expanding, and every new line is a potential meme.