The trailer for Join Us first appeared during the Xbox Showcase in June, offering a glimpse of a darkly humorous cooperative cult simulator. In the clip, robed followers ride on pigs, unleash a barrage of machine‑gun fire, and the sequence culminates with a massive, Cthulhu‑like mass of tentacles. What didn’t make the cut, according to Joe Dietsch—CEO and creative director of Wolf Haus Games—was the infamous snake gun. "One of the team members’ kids suggested a snake‑shooter," Dietsch recounts.
"We had a rapid‑prototyping tool for weapons, so within about thirty minutes I built a gun that fires snakes. The kid went nuts, and we kept it in the final build." That anecdote encapsulates the chaotic, improvisational style of gameplay that Join Us promises: an open‑world sandbox where players can recruit followers—or invite friends in co‑op—to join a 1970s‑style cult.
It also highlights the studio’s technology‑first mindset, which has enabled a high‑fidelity, large‑scale title to emerge from a surprisingly small development crew. Michael Abbott, Wolf Haus’s chief operating officer, summed it up succinctly: "We set out to be disruptors." "We told everyone we could build a AAA‑ish experience with just twelve people," Abbott says. "Most people laughed and called it impossible." Their confidence stems from a background in indie filmmaking, where they learned to achieve cinematic impact on shoestring budgets. After 80 pitches, the team finally secured equity investment from Krafton and Lifelike Capital, both of which now hold stakes in Wolf Haus.
The founders’ Hollywood credentials run deep. Dietsch studied film at Chapman University alongside Louie Gibson—son of Mel Gibson—and the two later co‑wrote and co‑directed the indie features Happy Hunting and Manifest West. Abbott is the son of veteran makeup artist Larry Abbott and helped launch Ascendant Pictures, the production company founded by Chris Roberts before his Star Citizen venture. Abbott later produced films such as Fight for ’84, starring Jamie Foxx.
Join Us originated from Dietsch’s early experiments in Unreal Engine. "Unreal was free to download, and I’d always loved games but felt there was a massive barrier to actually creating something," he explains. He taught himself through YouTube tutorials, built a few tiny prototypes, and eventually gravitated toward a doomsday‑cult concept that merged his love of survival mechanics with grindhouse cinema aesthetics. He crafted a proof‑of‑concept demo, assuming he would soon hit a technical wall.
When he showed the demo to Abbott, the latter recognized its potential and passed it to Dooma. Dooma Wendschuh, Wolf Haus’s chief financial officer and narrative director, began his career as a film producer and screenwriter before moving into games in the early 2000s. He founded Sekretagent Productions, providing narrative work for titles like Prince of Persia: The Two Thrones, Assassin’s Creed, and Batman: Arkham Origins. Later, Wendschuh launched several tech ventures, including the cannabis formulation firm Ebbu, which sold for roughly C$430 million (US$330 million).
After selling Ebbu, Wendschuh bought a remote island restaurant in Canada, intending to retire. Yet, in classic Hollywood fashion, an unexpected call from his old roommate Michael Abbott pulled him back into the industry. "I watched the demo Joe sent me and it blew my mind, so I came out of retirement," Wendschuh says. He introduced the project to Reid Schneider, former VP at Warner Bros.
Games and now head of Raccoon Logic, who became a strategic advisor and recruited Pierre‑Olivier Chartrand, a former Ubisoft Montreal programmer, as chief technology officer. With the core team assembled, the next hurdle was financing—an especially tough task during the industry downturn of 2023‑24. After initial outreach, Wolf Haus partnered with CAA in Los Angeles and relaunched its pitch campaign in 2024, eventually closing a seed round with Lifelike Capital and Krafton. Wendschuh credits the CAA connection and the presence of seasoned veterans like Schneider and Chartrand for opening doors.
Despite the high ambitions, the studio remains lean: only 13 full‑time staff members. "We entered the project with a clear sense of scope and wanted to preserve a small‑team culture where everyone’s voice matters," Dietsch notes. To make a massive open‑world game feasible for such a tiny crew, the studio invested heavily in custom tooling from day one.
"Any system we build must be scalable and debuggable by a single person," he explains. The first year of development was therefore split between designing gameplay and constructing the internal tools that would keep the project from collapsing under its own weight. The equity funding from Krafton and Lifelike allowed Wolf Haus to self‑finance the entire development, with only a modest amount of project finance earmarked for marketing.
This arrangement aligns investor incentives with the studio’s long‑term value creation, encouraging the continued building of reusable tools even if it slows short‑term progress. When asked about generative AI, Dietsch gives a definitive answer: none is used in the creative pipeline.
"We believe a human touch is essential. Turning development over to an AI would defeat the purpose of why we love making games," he says. Wendschuh adds that the studio’s AI subscriptions are limited to administrative tasks like calendar management and email drafting—not content creation.
Krafton, despite branding itself as an "AI‑first" company, explicitly required Wolf Haus to avoid generative AI in the game’s artistic processes. This stance mirrors Krafton‑owned Neon Giant’s public declaration that it does not employ AI for its titles. Wendschuh stresses that the studio respects creative professionals and refuses to replace voice actors or artists with synthetic alternatives.
The six‑kilometre‑square map in Join Us is hand‑crafted, and all 15,000 voice lines were recorded by human talent—an intentional choice for a small indie studio. Dietsch reflects on the contrast between film and game development.
In cinema, an idea can take years to materialise, subject to studio approvals and scheduling constraints. In games, an inspiration can be implemented in the engine the same day, offering immediate feedback and iteration. Wendschuh notes that film production is heavily front‑loaded, requiring high‑profile talent to secure financing, whereas games face fewer gatekeepers, allowing a modest team to reach a wide audience without A‑list names. Both mediums, however, share a core creative drive: storytelling and immersive experience.
"When I was six, I wanted to make either movies or games; it came down to a coin toss and a Christmas camera," Dietsch muses. "Whether you’re crafting a film or a game, you’re delivering an experience, telling a story, and engaging an audience. That fundamental goal never changes."