My friend jumps into a sci-fi sarcophagus to heal his beaten-up clone body, which the machine does with the sound of someone being – I don’t know how else I can say this – de-juiced; a horrible, slurping, juicy gulp of a noise. “Aha, I’m a genius,” he says. “I got it.” This is our best run so far, and what he’s got is timing. He juiced his body back up to just the right point so our meat juice stores don’t go below 90 points. These points are shared between us for heals and respawns. If they go below 90, we begin to freeze to death because of a relic that gives us extra ship power so long as we’re in the sweet spot above 90 and below 110 – the juice zone. “No, you didn’t,” I reply, pretending I didn’t just jump into my sarcophagus and slurp a single point of the sweet stuff. “What the hell, I’m sure I had it.” “You didn’t, mate.” “Kirk, what did you do? What did you do, Kirk? You’ve doomed us!” Everything is freezing now and enemy fighters are bouncing lasers off our shields. Shields we now must disab