Transformers: Fall of Cybertron - screw Modern Warfare, I'm a jetplane!

My hands-on with Transformers: Fall of Cybertron's multiplayer component bred nothing but questions. How deep do those customisation options go? How would an online shooter based around silly hairless robots compete with shooters like Modern Warfare, with their audience-winning superfluity of stubble? What the hell is a Grimlock, and is there such a thing as a Grimkey? But one question rose above all others, blasting into the upper atmosphere like Starscream after a toxic vindaloo. What would Sid do?

Not met Sid? He's our resident Transformers expert, as evidenced by the very long, entertaining reader feature he sent me on Monday, due for publication sometime this weekend. The man's commitment to the cause of overgrown metal people that rearrange their gizzards to resemble muscle cars and pick-up trucks came to my attention some weeks before, when we were roundly told off for a shortage of Transformers coverage. I've never met or spoken to Sid, but his prowess has left a terrifying impression on me, such that as I played Fall of Cybertron last week, I started to hear his voice inside my head. Turns out he sounds quite a lot like popular African-American musician 50 Cent. Or at least, how I imagine 50 Cent would sound.

The trouble started during a round of Conquest, as my comparatively underfed Scientist class 'bot struggled to patch up friendlies while a distant foe chipped at them with sniper shells. A boom, a sad little tinkle of disintegrating metal, and I was alone against the elements. What would Sid do? The answer reverberated up from the depths of my subconscious. "Turn into a motherf**ckin plane and smoke his motherf**ckin ass."

So I turned into a motherf**ckin plane and smoked his motherf**ckin ass. The first part, anyway. Fall of Cybertron's transforming animations are a joy to behold - thundering great juggernauts spin and fold down like the world's most expensive origami sculptures, trading firepower for speed and a smaller hitbox. It's a particularly effective trick when you're a Scientist, the only air-capable class, letting you skitter across battlefronts healing people without spending too much time on the enemy's eye level. Sadly, I got so excited over the whole flying thing I forgot to shoot anybody. Sorry, Sid. My intentions were pure.

The next Intervention came as I, a tactically minded Destroyer, sought to liberate a Conquest point from the hands of two unsmiling Titans. Destroyers get homing missiles and stuff, but they're not really built for close-up work - you're better off standing behind Titans of your own, firing off support actions - and this particular Conquest point lurked in a tiny chamber with two access routes. Reinforcements were in-coming, but not imminent. What would Sid do? "Drop a shield down the tunnel there, little bro, then get behind that big green b**tch and smoke their motherf**ckin asses." Your will be done, oh Lord. The shield didn't last long against the concentrated fury of two sci-fi Gatling guns, but by the time it had withered to nothing, I'd downed one Titan and my allies had arrived. Score one for the Sidster! "Don't disrespect me, boy."

Finally, I got my hands on my very own Titan. They used to call this class "Soldier", but "Soldier" doesn't really do justice to the idea of a creature big enough to sit on Godzilla. Sid's advice wasn't really needed here, but he gave it anyway. "Carve those little b**tches up, then turn into a motherf**kin tank and waste that p***y hatchback, then go full auto on that entrance till the science dog come and fix you up, then get that destroyer to shield the door and get down the f**kin ramp and ice the motherf**kers when they come out the side." OK, Sid, I'll be honest - I lost track after the first pair of asterisks, but the basic gist seemed to be "shoot everybody, don't die", and that's basically what I did. We won that match, as it happens. The bigger they come, the greater the quantity of arse they kick.

Fall of Cybertron seems like a highly amusing interactive computerised game thing. It's about as scientific as a pinball machine with no flippers, but it's got enough in the way of secondary abilities and class-specific weapons to justify the on-going existence of your brain. Locking together custom bots from clumps of series lore sounds compelling, too, but you'll have to read Sid's essay for the lowdown on that. Look out for it on Saturday. I should have blanked out most of the swears by then.