Nobody likes Crankcase, and he hates everybody and everything. Once a geeky collection of circuits and servos, Crankcase began life as a menial janitor in the Fuel-Spill Section of the Ministry of Energy and Nutrition on Cybertron. The bullies of his youth put a huge chip on his shoulder, where he now carries a set of heavy guns. He'd rather use them on those too weak to retaliate, and then laugh in their faces while their energon runs out. This makes him momentarily happy; then he goes back to an endless series of griping complaints about every facet of his miserable existence. A complete jerk and slag-piece, he fits fairly well into the Decepticon military, but adds very little to it. The Autobots certainly wouldn't want him. They already have Gears and Huffer.