Ace Combat 8: Wings of Theve review finds an exciting campaign that elevates this long-running series to greater heights

Background: A Legend Built From Propaganda

Wings of Theve is the intense, often exhilarating, occasionally downright euphoric campaign inside Ace Combat 8, and its premise is a manufactured legend. The eponymous Wings is a fiction created by a media guru to bolster morale during an ongoing conflict that has left people seeking symbols of hope. The player is invited to take up the mantle after the predecessor, whose own kill count has not reached single figures, is downed during the prologue. That device aligns the player with the character because the series' goal is to make the player feel like a seasoned fighter pilot. Part of the brilliance is that it reminds you that you are ultimately a fraud while also giving you moments where you could be convinced that you are Maverick.

Spoiler alert: the downed predecessor later lingers like an Obi-Wan-esque spirit. He is a combination of internal monologue and exposition device, delivering portentous lines such as "the ocean sits there like an open coffin" in a whispery growl that sounds like Christian Bale's Batman voice. That adds a hint of unintentional comedy to the game's serious-minded ruminations on war, which feel like a developer having its cake and eating it. There is much handwringing about the human cost of conflict, though the script seems to reserve greater ire for the evils of social media and how quickly and easily falsehoods can spread and take root in the gen-AI era. The game is not shy about making you aware that you are a cog in both the war machine and the propaganda machine. At the same time, you have no choice but to embody that role and, in effect, become the pilot of legend with the improbable kill count that is inspiring the folks back home.

The setting is Strangereal, not Normalreal, and the text addresses Chris when making that distinction. It is a place where the Sotoan Air Force's Shadow Squadron are the baddies because their planes are painted black and their theme music is the most insidious of earworms. Enemy planes play dad-rock over open channels to announce their arrival, and one of your wingmen plucks mournful guitar solos on a carrier at sundown. It is a reminder, too, that while Call of Duty and Battlefield frequently feature in uncomfortable discussions about the military-entertainment complex, Ace Combat has managed to dodge being included in these conversations like a barrel-rolling MiG evading an incoming missile.

The game also features several real-world planes, unveiled with a similar reverence to which Gran Turismo affords newly purchased cars. Space elevators, land battleships, and colossal transports with thousand-metre wingspans notwithstanding, its scenarios feel at least somewhat plausible, not least when it presents haunting scenes of devastation that evoke the kind of imagery seen of Gaza and Ukraine in the last few years. Wings of Theve is so overwhelming, so relentless, and so stratospherically daft that those concerns can melt away during the missions themselves, but it is worth spotlighting for those who might not find virtual conflict much of an escape right now.

Development: The Endurance Mission and the 30-Mission Campaign

The opening mission sets the tone for the whole campaign. Two more missiles arc toward a hapless enemy F2-A while the narrator, called on by Rex, skims past a glowering grey cloud and watches the distant explosion through droplets peppering the windshield. Visibility is garbage. The Endurance is being targeted, and Tonitrus Spear is arriving in two minutes. The enemy has a high-output laser and a broad-range jammer, a bad combo. The cockpit rattles during a climb, and an insistent red flash warns that the Tomcat is icing up.

The mission turns into a countdown. Tasha is anxious, while Coster, a man of few words, gives the needed instruction: "Don't panic. Stick to your training." There is a furious shudder as the plane swerves into another ice cloud and a missile whistles by. The radio says 45 seconds, then 30 seconds, then the string players bow with an urgency that suggests even they recognize things are getting desperate. One airship appears, then a second laser appears, and the player realizes there are two lasers, has no longer got this, and the situation is suddenly in an entirely different postcode. Even as one falls, the overlapping chatter in the ears gets busier. The player must take both targets out or the carrier will take a Spear strike. Move. Don't think. Quickly now.

From 10 down to 1, the airship finally comes into view too late. The player vainly launches one last LAAM, knowing it is not going to hit in time. It appears over, and the narrator slumps in the seat after spending the last few minutes perched on its very edge. Spoiler alert: then Shot landed appears. A cutscene shows the last airship exploding, Joker 1 reports target destroyed, and the reviewer instinctively leaps up so hard that the DualSense Edge takes its maiden flight. That reversal captures Wings of Theve's appetite for eleventh-hour twists, which the review compares to Shyamalan-level surprises. When a mission ends as anticipated, it is hard not to feel a little let down, and the game introduces One Last Threat, or an existing one that turns out to be still operational, once too often.

The campaign also leans on story in ways that separate it from its immediate predecessor and its PS2 heyday. The Top Gun comparison has been made countless times before, but Wings of Theve owes a visible debt to Joseph Kosinski's 2022 sequel. It is not just the head-on replay camera, which admittedly does not have the same effect as the demonstration that one of cinema's most bankable stars, at least pre-Digger, was flying a plane for real. It is also cutscenes that mimic some of the film's most memorable shots. It is as if Bandai Namco Aces was inspired by one of the most thrilling action movies of the 21st century: every mission feels like the most extravagant set-piece of a Hollywood summer blockbuster. For better and worse, that carries over into everything that happens in between.

The introduction borders on Kojima-like indulgence, giving enough time to wonder whether the player character might be named Tom-Cruiseman. The first-person interstitials feel like a tacit hint toward the camera the developer would prefer in-game. Cockpit view makes for an authentically claustrophobic experience, but third-person arguably makes for easier dodging. Those interstitials never quite sold the reviewer on the wisdom of a silent protagonist, nor on the value of limited inputs such as look and zoom controls and the occasional press X to shake hands prompt. Yet the inherent awkwardness of the mute hero is tempered by the choice to have the precursor linger as a spirit.

The story detours create a surfeit of downtime, but the game is at its best when it cleaves closest to the opening quote from its 11th sortie: Move. Don't think. Quickly now. Few series communicate a sense of urgency quite as well as Ace Combat. If this particular entry's most arduous sorties threaten to unsettle the delicate equilibrium between exhilarating and exhausting, at its finest it delivers a rare kind of sensorial high.

What separates the game most from its immediate predecessor is its focus on spectacle, yet there is real substance beneath the visual pizzazz. The clouds are responsible for 2026's most jaw-slackening skyboxes and some of the best weather effects, but visibility is a double-edged sword and a key tactical consideration during dogfights. Venturing into cloud cover can make the plane a little less cumulo-nimble and reduce the range of missile lock-on, which is all the more incentive to tinker with the pre-mission loadout. The reviewer advises resisting the temptation to immediately splurge on new planes with better stats, because parts that extend the range and effectiveness of missiles, decrease the likelihood of stalling, or boost durability are often more sensible. Teammate commands make a surprising amount of difference, as does the choice of plane. In missions where attention is torn, which is most of them, wingmen can break formation to thin out enemy numbers, or deploy special weapons that enhance the player's own capabilities or disrupt opponents.

The game typically and purposely gives too much to handle at any given time. It is not so much organized as meticulously choreographed chaos. If the relentless barrage of radio chatter makes it hard to divine which threats to prioritize, that generally feels more like feature than bug. To live up to the billing, the player must learn to parse the vital from the incidental, especially when wingman quips compete with admonishments from other pilots, instructions and updates from various sources, and noisy missile alerts that ramp up the stress. All of which means Wings of Theve can be ever so slightly draining to play in long sessions, demanding total attention at all times. Even in comparatively slow-paced missions, developments force the player to lock in before locking on, to lean forward and snap into focus.

The player is often invited to go off-piste. One fraught moment asks the player to lend a hand as a rustbucket transport flies through valleys lined with anti-air ordinance. Taking those down while a wingman repeatedly shouts MANPADS! might seem relatively straightforward by this game's standards. But it suddenly turns into a frantic race against time as a group of enemy fighters converge and the player must down them all against the clock. That is typical of a game that never stops finding ways to up the stakes, even during landing and refuelling sequences that otherwise offer respite from the mayhem. The player can never quite relax until the mission complete text finally pops up.

The campaign contains 30 missions, and the problem with so frequently upending expectations is that surprises become the norm. Checkpoints ameliorate frustration, but some sorties feel distinctly less replayable as the timer ticks well beyond the half-hour mark. Bar an early difficulty spike during an escort mission and one tedious bout of forced aerial stealth, featuring the single most misleading bit of direction the reviewer has seen in a video game for some time, the game feels absolutely sensational in the moment. Taking down a vast land battleship is a formidable task, but there is no denying the feeling of satisfaction as it finally comes to a complete standstill. One mission's third act leaves the player to tackle an entire squadron on their own, with a score hitting Hans Zimmer levels of thunderous escalation again and again. It delivers giddy mastery and audiovisual splendour that could persuade even the most hardened cynic of the enduring appeal of simple power fantasies.

Latest: Multiplayer, Spectacle, and the Current Stage

The multiplayer side is described as the series' biggest online component to date. The reviewer had figured it would struggle to live up to the single-player, but as someone who has never been a huge competitive multiplayer guy, was pleasantly surprised. Healthy first-week sales and a schedule that cycles between stages, with three per mode active at any time, mean matchmaking times are refreshingly short. During longer waits, or before launching a sortie, players can wander around a large air base where they can spend rewards earned acquiring new planes, upgrading and decorating craft already in the hangar, or perhaps tackling a quartet of classic Namco arcade games. Costlier planes with more upg are mentioned, but that upgrade path remains unexplained.

At this stage, Wings of Theve is best understood as a high-altitude argument for urgency. Its 30 missions, its Strangereal propaganda fiction, its Sotoan Air Force Shadow Squadron, its real-world plane reverence, and its cutscene spectacle all feed into a loop where visibility, loadouts, and teammate commands matter as much as the film-like camera. The DualSense Edge may take its maiden flight when a mission succeeds at the last second, but the game's lasting point is simpler. When the Tonitrus Spear arrives, the player must move, not think, and find the sensorial high beneath the Hollywood-sized sky.