ghostpia
One of the first things you'll notice about ghostpia is the amount of weight pulled by the visual rhetoric. It's the main thing being pitched on the storefronts--"ghostpia's visuals mix warm, delicate art [...] with glitch and noise effects, for a strangely nostalgic visual novel vibe," "enjoy it like you would a good movie," and so on. You certainly could choose to go the other way with a VN, especially one without very much ludo-stuff, and prioritize the novel part over the visual, but if you told me ghostpia was drafted as storyboards first and a script second, I'd believe it. The writing comes across as kind of post hoc, feeling its way toward whatever the imagery's about, which works given that the characters are often trying to make sense of weird situations as they encounter them.
A lot of my recommendations amount to "well, you should know whether you'd like it by looking at it, shrug," but that's not really sufficient in this case (maybe in any case, but what can I say, art is personal and I'm lazy). The mood is incongruous in a specific way. Maybe like a grungier Haibane Renmei by way of absurd gag manga? Do people even still watch Haibane Renmei now that it's old enough to drink? My point is there's a lot of violence and melancholy in ghostpia, but it doesn't often feel grim because it's all very goofy. Sometimes it risks being meaner than the art style and the tone of the writing can sustain, and everyone will have a different threshold for this, but it balances out in the overall arc, a hedgehog's dilemma involving some especially spiny hedgehogs.
☞ If for whatever reason this inspires you to look into Haibane Renmei: I like it a lot--it's more self-critical than most idyllic, fantastical slice of life and questions who that kind of setting really benefits--but be aware that it includes episodes dealing with self-harm and alluding to suicide.