I'd better just clear this up right now: there's no way this review can tell you everything about Oblivion. Such is the scope and grandeur of its remit that I would do just as well to tell you nothing of its vast world, intricate network of NPCs and sublime allowance of choice. And of course, many of you will already know and will have been attracted by these very aspects. Reasonably, this has to be for the benefit of those who have never played a game so far-reaching and profound as Bethesda's role-playing game series.

The RPG, then. A domain governed by men with beards; warriors and wizards rhythmically striking goblins; numbers and statistics flashing across the screen until the euphoric proclamation of...level up! We've all heard RPGs described as games for people who like to see numbers go up. Often they require careful statistical management and little else; turn-based combat is decided by your 'level' rather than what you do, and a story unfolds to dress up the maths behind it all.

In this context, Oblivion has ambition that confounds the hairy-faced. More than an exercise in patience, the game demands aptitudes more akin to action genres of all kinds. Think about this: games traditionally imitate singular aspects of real or fantasy lives. Rarely will you find yourself picking flowers, investing in businesses, then killing a necromancer (not to mention stealing her clothes). Oblivion lets you. And what's more, these are events driven by your direct actions - not menus or numbers. What we're dealing with is as free and interactive a world as has so far been achieved within a videogame.

It's hard not to ramble and lose direction when describing such a world. Perhaps what's best is to recount my experiences so far. At the beginning? Character creation. Choosing a race and designing your face takes simply ages. It took a friend of mine over an hour. Why? Because the options for changing your nose alone run into double figures; it's possible to make a scarily accurate approximation of your own face here. Unfortunately you'll never see it except in inventory menus, so it's largely a waste of time other than to see what you'd look like with leather underwear.

More relevant is your choice of skill set. Do you want to use magic? Pick locks? Wield swords? Hide in shadows? Leap long distances? There are countless permutations and combinations of skills from which to choose, and your initial choice is by no means permanent. Your skills improve with the actions you perform, meaning you can begin as a powerful warrior, but develop your magical skills over time to become a mage, should you so choose.

My facial follicles were tingling at the point of setting up my character, prompting me to create a 'Beard' class.

"Are you sure you want to be a Beard?" the game asked. I stroked my chin and ventured into the world...

...And what a beautiful world it is. Lush green fields stretch in every direction beyond the sparkling expanse of water before you. Behind, the Imperial City, its iconic tower looming sentinel-like over the land. In the distance I spied snowy crags and forests, the rubble of ancient forts, piers and docks...I immediately thought: how much of this is actually explorable?

So I walked. I stepped into the water and swam across the castle's moat. Then I hiked the nearest mountain, just to see if I could, just to see how far I could go. It's possible to walk in one direction for 30 minutes, possibly more, without reaching any barrier to exploration.

Pick Flowers, Crush Crabs in your pants, whatever.

Along the way, I picked flowers, different varieties across regions. An orchestral score accompanies the experience, matching its tone to the scene. To watch the sunset reflected in a lake, whilst listening to the sumptuous arrangements is truly beautiful. I pressed on along my journey.

A musical change in pace heralds the presence of an aggressor in the world. A wolf stared down at me from the ridge above, night drawing in. As it leapt I instinctively threw a fireball, following up with a volley of arrows from my bow. The final arrow hit home mid-leap, the body falling on a bank and toppling down, rolling to the bottom. Following it down I wondered at the art of Oblivion's physics system. Limbs flail and bodies topple with satisfying weight. A mirthful grin spread across my face as I launched the wolf's carcass into the air with a succession of fireballs.

Making my way back to the city, I discovered a cave entrance. Hidden within were legions of goblins, hardly visible in the sparse torchlight. Overcoming them and avoiding the Goonies-style booby traps was its own reward, but further exploration revealed chests of treasure to plunder. I took what I could carry and worked my way back into the light, in time for sunrise.

I reached the moat once more. Upon seeing some crabs, I opted to punch them to death wearing only my pants. Then, venturing into the city, I finally began to acquire quests from the many inhabitants. I strolled about, non-committal, listening in on conversations and considering requests for help.

I just didn't know where to start.

Quests cover issues as disparate as you can imagine. You might be asked to investigate a store's suspiciously cheap stock by rival traders. You could enter the arena to make a name for yourself as a gladiator. Perhaps you want to gain access to the Arcane University by doing favours for members of the Mages' Guild.

Despite the great number of quests, they all seem to have substantial weight. For example, someone goes missing at the Bruma Mages' Guild. If you can find out where he's gone, Jeanne Frasoric will grant you a recommendation - essential for becoming a recognised mage. However, the one person who knows the secret will only help you if you steal Jeanne's spell-book as she sleeps.

This kind of moral duality serves as a defining motif for Oblivion's gameplay. The crude moral choices of games such as Fable sabotage their own intentions. Here, it's possible to do something bad in the interests of the common good, leaving genuine choice to the player. Uniquely, Oblivion doesn't expect you to be the same person throughout the adventure, avoiding evil actions lest they demote your 'good' status.

If only the AI lived up to the intricacies of the quest lines. Too often you will overhear the same forced conversation between strangers:

"Hello! I heard that there's something suspicious about that fella."
"Yes, I heard that too. Goodbye!"

In many respects the characters act reasonably convincingly, but because of the depth of their environment, their deficiencies are all the more apparent. To hear a woman cheerily greet you as she stands above her husband's corpse is perplexing. Seeing a shopkeeper walk about town talking to soldiers for his entire shift is infuriating. Of course, any attempt to emulate human behaviour is bound to miss the target by some margin, and on that basis it's unfair to criticise Bethesda too harshly.

The AI is an unfortunate failure in an otherwise magnificent achievement. Such a detailed and vast land is enough of a playground in itself for you to enjoy. Beyond that, the quests add much needed direction to the game, gently guiding you on your course, but never forcing you. But is it for you, novice adventurer? Indeed: beards are not necessary. To play Oblivion is to see the ambition of videogames pushed forward, not just for the RPG genre but for the art form itself. If you have any interest in games at all, this simply has to be experienced.