The publicity proclaims that Stay Alive "blurs the lines between games, legends and reality". Translation: "we've made up the rules as we go along."

The CG kicks in when a geek gets his sweaty mitts on a bootleg copy of the titular hard-drive survival lark. Spookily, when his virtual self meets a sticky end, so does he. 'Game Over' indeed.

At the funeral, his best friend Hutch (Foster – a ginger, fun-free Keanu Reeves) chats up a stranger (The OC's Armstrong) who was just passing and thought she'd take some snaps. As you do.

So he invites her back to his place to play the game that just killed his mate... as you do.

They are joined by his friends: a techno-nerd (Malcolm In The Middle star Muniz), a goth-chick, and her intolerable brother. But it's Hutch's slimy boss - playing from his office - who fails to stay alive first.

They'd heard the game was a killer, but this is a bit much. The gang set about trying to save themselves while being hounded by New Orleans' least convincing detective and a ghostly horse-drawn carriage.

Stupidity hampers their cause. "Get to the back door of the house!" yells Swink. "I don't know where that is" whines Hutch, having entered at the front. What a berk.

The root of the evil is Elizabeth Bathory, an 18th century countess who slaughtered scores of little girls for their youth-preserving blood. She was duly locked away and left to rot.

And now she's back. Why the contrary cow has turned her fury on unsavoury, post-pubescent gamers instead of sweet kiddies is not dwelt upon.

A child-murdering phantasm, Mad Lizzie is essentially an online Freddy Krueger with hair and nicer fashions. Apparently, she was a real-life murderer, but the rest of the ideas are copied from other movies. Badly.

The abrupt deaths lack the wit and invention of the Final Destination series and the now-customary girl-wraiths beloved of The Ring and The Grudge induce more sighs than scares.

As tension evaporates and the goose chase begins, Stay Alive provides all the mystery and menace of an average episode of Scooby-Doo.

Elliott Noble