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Your parents are big, fat liars. No disrespect. We're guessing that, at some point, they told a wide-eyed junior you that "there are no such things as evil monsters in the real world". Well, even a cursory glance at the headlines will prove that this isn't true. Even more frightening is that the worst monsters in the real world look just like everyone else. And what about the assertion that 'the dark is nothing to be scared of'? Well, actually, they were half right there. But, sadly, the whole truth won't be much of a comfort to you. Sometimes, utter, abyss-like blackness can be a haven. Sometimes, moving into the light can be the most terrifying experience at all...

Allow us to explain with an example. Two thirds of the way into the magnificently creepy Forbidden Siren, you find yourself in a tiny wooded clearing on the edge of a valley. It's night time and from the deliberating level of darkness, you know there isn't a big city around for mies. You check, and orientate your map. Not some electro-fangled game map with your - and everyone else's - position winking on and off. Just a map. The village you want to head for is just over a nearby river. Five minutes walk, on an ordinary day. Of course though, you wouldn't be here if it were an ordinary day. Conditioned by bitter, heart-pounding experience, you know that all around you in this godforsaken, inky night are your fellow villagers. Immortal, but driven insane by the pain of eternal rebirth. Some shuffle aimlessly. Others stare into space, sobbing uncontrollably or suddenly, inexplicably, laughing. You need to avoid them if you can. Find a weapon and you may be able to knock 'em down, but the respite from pursuit will measure only a few minutes.

And that's when you see the flashlight at your feet. In any other game, you'd frantically pick it up and push the darkness away from you with its beam. But not here. In the darkness you are, for now, safe. For now, nobody knows your position except you. Turn on the flashlight and all that could change in a sickening instant. Quietly you pocket it, and creep downhill towards the bridge. This is going to be one hell of a long, cold night...

The premise for Forbidden Siren is as unusual as its tense gameplay and its precise, economical styling. The place is modern day rural Japan, and something has happened to the small, landlocked town of Hanyuda. Following an earthquake, a wailing siren is heard that coincides with the centre of Hanyuda sinking into a sea of blood. From this rise the bodies of those killed in the cataclysm. Alive, but not exactly living. With the mysterious aftermath of the earthquake unfolding over three days, you play as ten different survivors, scattered over the surrounding prefecture. With characters and stories intersecting, the 30-plus chapters leapfrog one another in a way that makes Pulp Fiction's temporal noodling seem childish, but which build (via archive items collected and brief, focused cut-scenes) to tell a horrifying story of Wicker Man-like rural worship gone insane.

You already have a sense of Forbidden Siren's "avoid and move" gameplay, but there's genius in the details. Chapter objectives appear to be disarmingly simple, and all but a few brief pursuit levels involve you making your way to an exit point on the current map. As mentioned though, apart from your start point, your way out and the layout of paths and buildings, the map gives you nothing. Start moving and it doesn't even tell you where you are. Worse still, you sometimes have a helpless companion (a blind girl, an 11-year-old pupil...) who must be led carefully through areas populated with undead villagers. But how do you know where they are before it's too late?

Mercifully, the red rain that falls relentlessly on Tabori has given the handful of survivors a gift, linking them to their pursuers. By nudging the left analogue stick around the compass points, you can 'sight jack' into nearby villagers' minds. From these horrific, juddery visions you have to piece together information from villagers' patterns of movement, landmarks they can see and your current position to inch your way carefully around danger.

It's hard. Sometimes it's incredibly hard. Exits just feet away from your start point can take half an hour to reach. Painstaking progress can be pissed away when you fail to update your 'sight jack' views and stumble into an octogenarian woman with bleeding eyes and a scythe, tending her roses. That said, your heart will be in your mouth from start to finish. You will make uncontrollable fear noises in the back of your throat and you will persevere through the darkness, because Forbidden Siren is brilliant.

In fact, the only false note sung by this siren is the voice acting that inexplicably wanders into Jamie Oliver mockney territory. Why Sony didn't spend more time and money on truly class localisation is mystifying. Who knows, perhaps something spooked them... Even if Resident Evil Outbreak does go online in the UK, compared to this adrenaline-spiking, malevolent game of cat and mouse it feels old and tired. But hush now. The darkness is calling us and we are powerless to resist...

Graphics 90%
Likelike characters and huge environments

Sound 80%
Great, aside from the cockernee voice acting

Gameplay 90%
Fear-fuelled paranormal investigation

Lifespan 90%
You'll want to play it again and again!

Overall 90%
Unique, ambitious, genuinely scary and brilliantly executed, this is as good as psychological horror gets. It's very, very hard though.