Cocktane succeeds where Tiger Fuel's can failed, even though it employs the same vague old fashioned high school vibe. The red, that's casually laced about the design, complements the silver, white, and black, as well as the animal of choice. There is a decent degree of text, but it's not an overwhelming amount nor does any of it feel unbefitting, and the slogan, much like the aforementioned variety, is admirably cornball. I do wish, though, that the can took itself a bit more serious, especially since the colour configuration is well balanced and is potentially edgy.
The flavour smoothly grows in strength as the experience progresses, though the actual taste is rather rough, and it's maladroitly based upon the fruit the can declares. The sourness is surprisingly stark, and the saccharinity is unexpectedly evanescent, and though both aspects are enjoyable, the cherry tastes ineffectual and feels niggardly constructed. The pleasured dryness insinuates for the flavour to be entirely authentic, but there's a stupefyingly basic quality to it that implies something more along the lines of a candied fruit. The two characteristics simply do not agree, and they fight one another for control as to which direction the flavour continues in. This intestinal torture never escalates into causing general displeasure for the drinker, but with such strong competition from products within the flavour genre, it's intensely difficult to praise much about the taste of Cocktane.
There's a decent two hour kick from the ingredient cocktail of Cocktane: 100 mg of caffeine, ginseng, taurine, various B vitamins, and guarana. Overall, there's not much to celebrate about Cocktane, except perhaps the last sip, and the seemingly mild level of annoyance caused by the few small quirks certainly frustrated me.