Pointblank would say that war is hell, if he wasn't a bot of very few words. Words make arguments, and arguments make wars, and he wants no more of those. That isn't to say he's a poor fighter. He just wants a quiet place to sit down with a good datatrack and a glass of frosty energon, without a Decepticon missile spoiling everything, and if he should find himself pounding the ever-loving lock washers out of the shooter of that missile, it isn't because he bears grudges or even out of regret for the waste of a good drink. No, it's just on general principle. Every battle won brings him closer to retirement, which of course is never going to happen in a million years. No hard feelings, though.
Peacemaker keeps trying to cheer up his Autobot partner, which doesn't make sense, since he's not really upset. He just wants to retire, perhaps to a cozy little polished-titanium cottage with Morphobots twining up the walls, and maybe a cozy nuclear fire blazing on the lead-lined hearth—or for whatever rest an old Autobot soldier yearns. Just because he's pretty sure this won't happen and he'll end up a flattened, burned casualty of a never-ending war, doesn't mean he's depressed, does it?
His alt-mode is a Cybertronian Sports Car.