They run and hide their heads, they might as well be dead.

Setting aside for a moment the childish rhyme it might remind you of, milk and lemonade is a great tasting combination. For some, it may just be the reaction of those who see them drinking it, for others it's just that the milk cancels out the acidity of lemonade, leaving a delicious, creamy-lemon taste. Milk and cola is another popular combination, and anyone recoiling in fear at the thought would do well to think about how often they've had a coke float, and the tasty liquid that's left when the last of the ice-cream has melted. The same cannot be said of every milk and carbonated soft drink combination, however. The curdled results of adding Irn Bru to milk are enough to turn the stomach on sight alone, and it would take reasonable bravery, stupidity, or both to consider consuming it. Just as, for every milk and lemonade there is a milk and Irn Bru, for every strawberry with balsamic vinegar there's a Mars bar with ketchup, for every cheese and jam sandwich there's a traditional trifle with a layer of minced beef and onions. For the soundtrack of Rain, the developers added the angelic voice of a choir girl singing lyrics penned for Debussy's Clair du Lune, and the result is less than appetising.

It is, then, no surprise (but equally disappointing) to find that the introduction and conclusion of the game's story are delivered with an art style - watercolours over chalk/pencil drawings - that clash both on the screen and with the visual style of the game itself. It makes no sense in terms of storytelling for either part to be delivered in such a fashion, and the artistic merit of the decision is a mystery. The clash becomes most apparent when you are killed, the watercolour splashes across the screen conflicting with the graphics you have been enjoying in the game.

By the time you have seen this a few times, though, you will already be frustrated by the cack-handed way the game handles its own story. Rain seems intent on breaking its own atmosphere faster than it can build it. The game is narrated by on screen text that states the obvious, providing characterless descriptions of what you can plainly see for yourself, or trite observations intended to push your emotions. Throughout the game there is not one single piece of narrative text that could not and should not have been delivered through marginally better direction. That you as a player can see for yourself how each scene could have better communicated the story without the text is a sad indictment of the direction.

Rain’s faults are plentiful, and cover every aspect of the game. The idea that the characters can only be seen when rain falls them is a lovely mechanic, but the visuals are poorly delivered, the appearance of the characters is inconsistent with how they would look given the appearance of the rain. The game regularly breaks its own rules regarding when you can fall off an edge and when you can't, what can be climbed and when; puzzles become brainless insert tab into slot when, for example, a crate can only be climbed upon once dragged into a particular place. Having taught you the circumstances when you can do a certain action, the game patronises you by telling you every single time that you can lift the girl here, or climb a ladder there. The reality is that this is a transparent attempt to hide frankly poor control implementation, which irks even more when reinforced with a jarring noise cue. Another jarring noise cue - a piano plink that will induce horrific LA Noire flashbacks - also does its best to break immersion. To top it all off, Rain has one of the most misleading cameras you will find in all videogamedom. When it's not encouraging you to set off in the wrong direction towards a dead end (that looks like a perfectly navigable, climbable path) it is picking the optimal angle to assassinate your depth perception and execute a controlled leap into a lethal void.

And yet, and yet. Despite all of these faults, Rain will take hold of you, and you will fight to ignore its faults, and follow its characters. You will enjoy its simple puzzles, and long for just a little more. You will develop a bond with its characters, wishing the best for them while not being entirely sure what the best is. Rain does a great job of leaving you guessing what exactly is going on, why these characters are here, what is happening to them, what the symbolism means. As it reaches its conclusion, you will question whether you are doing the best thing for the little boy and girl. The Unknown is one of the most terrifying videogame creatures you might encounter, its nightmarish creepiness reminiscent of Guillermo del Toro's Pan's Labyrinth, its unrelenting pursuit of the children driving you to protect them.

Rain is by no means original, and the fact that it fails to match the quality of the many games it echoes might perhaps make you question whether it is worth playing. Even with its many faults ironed out, the game is not strong enough to be considered a great, or remembered as a flawed gem. But it is not without merit, and those inclined to forgive its imperfections will find an enjoyable, compelling short story underneath. You may even find yourself playing through again (although the 'unlocking' of a selection of collectibles after the first play-through is a disappointing, cynical gesture) and wishing that the game was just a little bit longer. Although there is no realistic scope for a sequel, a spiritual successor would not be unwelcome in the next generation of consoles.