Designed as part fun feature/part experiment, this drinking game asks the question: "What will induce vomiting first - excessive amounts of alcohol or "Lost Universe?"

As the opening credits flash across the television screen, gauge your stomach's acidity. If the poppy, bizarrely inappropriate theme song becomes too much to handle, take a drink. If this doesn't help to calm your stomach, take another. And keep on drinking until you're singing along.

If you're watching the dub you'll notice that Canal speaks with a thick, lisping voice, as if a miss-shaped pallet or a corrective retainer retards her ability for speech. If you can't understand what she's saying, take a drink every time she opens her mouth (which, incidentally, may not be the same times that sound emanates from it). Switching to the Japanese with subtitles feature on the DVD might alleviate some of the strain, but the high-pitched, whinny squeal may not serve to endear her much more. The point at which her caterwauling gets too much should mark the start of your drinking binge. You can stop when she is no longer on the screen.

Kain suffers from an incurable case of adolescent pomposity. So every time that pubescent mock-hero garbed in white slings his cape ostentatiously over his shoulder to fasten it secure to his neck, take a drink. Every time he storms heroically into a situation, take two drinks. And every time he screws up, or winds up conclusively less cool than he thinks he is, celebrate with a bottle. If you vomit at this point, huzzah, the alcohol got you before "Lost Universe" did. Remain comatose for the rest of the show.

Millie, too, chases an adolescent dream: to be the greatest detective in the universe and write a best-selling autobiography. But as she will no doubt learn growing into her self-destined identity, the greatest detectives always drank heavily - dealing with criminal slime, day in and day out, every hour beating them like an old lover at a game of cards does that to a person. Show her the way by taking a drink every time she tries to behave like a P.I. or declares that she wants to be a dick. For that matter, writers drink heavily as well, so bottoms up for the autobiography lines too. She also wants to be the world's greatest cook, the world's greatest shot, and the world's greatest forensic veterinarian. What this girl does, she has a god complex about it. Every time she falls short of being the greatest at whatever she does, ruminate about everything that you've accomplished in life, and drink merrily.

Gliding through the galaxy like a massive, white, old-school Atari fortress, enjoying the kind of 3D CGI effects that robbed every other aspect of this anime of much needed capital, the Swordbreaker is apparently one of the fabled Lost Ships, and therefore exhibits extraordinary capabilities - most of which conveniently surface at the most opportune of times. Every time they do, take a sip of alcohol from whatever conveniently close receptacle is lying about. If, upon drinking, you find that you too have extraordinary capabilities, by all means, use them. And if you can figure out why said vessel is called the Swordbreaker; demand that everyone buy you a drink, for you are truly cleverer than the anime.

The amount of techno-babble poured into this entirely unimpressive work gives "Star Trek: The Next Generation" a run for its money. For every term such as "phase inducer" and "subspace coagulator" that you can successfully explain, give another player a ten count. If no one can come up with a believable explanation, take a social and compliment each other on resisting the need to try to explain it … because ultimately you can't, it's "Lost Universe."

When you awake the next morning having spent that night on the bathroom floor, snap on "Lost Universe" because, in comparison, it'll make your hangover seem like euphoria.

Kampai!

Lost Universe © TV Tokyo / SoftFX / AD Vision.