Ace Combat 8: Wings Of Theve review

If Ace Combat 7 lacked anything (and I don't think it did) you might say it was a feeling of getting close to your wingmates. Project Aces think so anyway. Ace Combat 8: Wings of Theve repeatedly plonks you right on the deck of its aircraft carrier homebase, in first-person perspective and proximate enough to reach out and touch your squadpal's perfectly rendered stubble. You cannot get much closer than this. But there is a sense of overcompensation. Mission by mission this passive in-flight entertainment takes over and the player gets fewer displays of spectacular air buffoonery of their own. 

Luckily, the story is continuously stupid in the refreshing way Ace Combat can be. I don't think this new jetshootser is as airtight as the previous game in the series. There is, frankly, a lot of filler. You find yourself going through the motions of popping ground targets until the next lengthy story beat can hit. But when it's good, it remains an explosive cavalcade of implausibilities that makes me laugh. For Ace Combat, that's enough.

You play as a silent pilot known to the world as "Wings". But only because you've inherited this nickname, Dread Pirate Roberts style, from a pilot you knew for less than a day. To top it off, you now hear his lyrical inner monologue inside your own head for the whole game. It's an off-beat choice that, at first, reminded me of the dead narrator in Sunset Blvd, but was cheapened as soon as the voice drew attention to the conceit ("So you can hear me?" he says. "This is weird for me too."). But that's videogames in general and Ace Combat games in particular. They like to spell things out in big letters written in smoke in the sky. 

The series' characteristically farfetched storytelling - a head-on collision of sincere cultural observation and comically militant absurdity - is standing to attention throughout. Once again, it's WAR. The best interpretation of these rocketing jet 'em ups I've read is that they belong to the mecha genre. They are theatrical in a disarming way that'll win over anyone willing to accept a world where convicted felons are allowed to fly MIG-29s to atone for their crimes, where global wars with millions of casualties happen every 10 years but where there's still enough optimism to build space elevators and gleaming futuristic cities just in time for the next weapon of mass destruction to be invented. There are interesting themes in Ace Combat games - they are delivered with the subtlety of a cruise missile.

As for what it's actually like to fly: yup, feels good. You airbrake hard into high gravity turns, launch special air-to-air ordinance, pop flares when a missile is locked onto you, and chase bad guys through drippy clouds when your homing reticule is interrupted by beautifully composed sky mist. I miss the thunderstorms of its predecessor but its possible I just didn't fly through the right bits of dark heaven.

Some of the most tense air battles can involve a ferocious amount of airwave chatter. Fighter squadrons, ground troops, commanding officers, and enemy trashtalkers compete for your focus at a clattering pace. In these missions, the feeling can be one of chaotic overwhelm. You are flying through an aural storm of in my sightses, on your sixes, and bombs awayses, with both friendlies and rivals blasting music over the comms. Among all this staticky crosstalk you have to listen for mission critical information - who to shoot and when to get 'em shot by. It's as much an exercise in concentration as a test of your piloting skills.

You kit out your jet accordingly. A mission with lots of ground targets? Stuff your steel belly full o' bombs. Anticipate a dogfight with some nippy aces? Pick something fast and stock up on missiles with special guidance abilities. As ever, you earn points in each mission to spend on new planes and parts. You'll fit gadgets to make your missiles lock-on faster, or reload quicker, or grant extra space to carry more ordnance. Later you can unlock some green-flavoured support planes that you'll fob off on your comrades because their special electronic warfare gizmos buff your own missile lock capabilities.  

With 30 missions in total, they were destined to be hit and miss. Highlights include flying under the struts of a floating island and blasting the support pillars as you glide past. Or dodging huge glowing bursts of railgun fire from land battleships that have burrowed in among innocent skyscrapers, like a cat at the back of a cupboard filled with delicate glassware. 

But there are an equal amount of shrugfests and simple "kill everything" missions set against a timer. One mission sees you and a pilot buddy crashing in enemy turf - a South American coded country full of resistance fighters. Your escape sees you stealth-flying through green blobs of radar in an rickety old plane at agonisingly slow pace while the stakes are melodramatised to you via dialogue on the radio. Aside from being a repeat of Ace Combat 7's most annoying mission, there is almost zero tension. You're just gliding gently to the exit while everyone says: "Oh no!" On the other hand, this is also where the story throttles up to perilously high levels of glamourous idiocy.

The village you crash near just happens to be visited by the most important General of the enemy air force - a futuristic wheelchair-bound woman of deadpan villainry. The first-person sequence that follows is a kind of Inglorious Basterds style dinner scene with four ace pilots squinting at each other (your head is on a swivel during these sequences, so you can look around, but not do much more). The villainess is served tea and, instead of extending her good arm to take the teacup, a robot arm rises from beneath the table and passes the cup to her working hand. It is a hilarious and needless flex of robotics.

This character is not alone in her animeness. Many others feel like the result of a brainstorming session taken to hard-drinking extremes. What if there was a pacifist ghost? What if a famous rock band could pilot F-16s? What if the General was a nomadic tribal heiress? What if the British air traffic guy was called "Dealer" and spoke entirely in gambling metaphors? What if there were a bunch of pilots who hid underground until they went crazy from being deprived of flying for too long?