Hollywood Insiders Build a Massive Game with a Twelve-Person Team—No Generative AI Involved

The trailer for Join Us first appeared during the Xbox Showcase in June, giving viewers a glimpse of a darkly humorous co‑op cult simulation. In the clip, robed followers charge on pig‑back while firing machine guns, culminating in a shot of enormous, Cthulhu‑like tentacles. What didn’t make the cut was the infamous snake gun, a quirky weapon that emerged from a simple request by a developer’s son. "He asked, ‘Can we have a gun that shoots snakes?’" recalls Joe Dietsch, CEO and creative director of Wolf Haus Games.

"We had a modular gun system, so I whipped up a snake‑shooter in about thirty minutes. The kid went nuts, and the weapon stayed in the final build." That anecdote captures the chaotic, sandbox‑style gameplay at the heart of Join Us. Players can build a 1970s‑style cult, recruit followers, and invite friends into the fold for cooperative chaos.

It also illustrates the studio’s technology‑first philosophy, which has enabled a high‑fidelity, open‑world experience to be crafted by a remarkably small crew. Michael Abbott, Wolf Haus’s chief operating officer, summed up the ambition: "We set out to be disruptors. We told everyone we could deliver a AAA‑level game with just twelve people, and they laughed." The team’s confidence wasn’t born of optimism alone; they came from a tradition of achieving big results on shoestring budgets. "Our roots are in indie film," Abbott explains.

"We learned to punch far above our weight, and we applied that mindset to games." After pitching the concept eighty times, Wolf Haus finally secured equity investment from Krafton and Lifelike Capital, giving the studio the runway needed to bring Join Us to life. Wolf Haus’s founders are steeped in Hollywood pedigree. Dietsch studied film at Chapman University alongside Louie Gibson, son of Mel Gibson, who later co‑founded the studio. Together they 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 started by Chris Roberts before his Star Citizen venture. Abbott later produced films such as Fight for ’84, starring Jamie Foxx.

The game’s genesis can be traced back to Dietsch’s early experiments in Unreal Engine. "Unreal was free to download, and I’d always loved games, but the barrier to actually creating something felt huge," he says. He taught himself the engine through YouTube tutorials, built a few small prototypes, and eventually settled on the idea of a doomsday cult simulator—a blend of survival mechanics and grindhouse cinema that merged his two passions. The first proof‑of‑concept was a rough‑and‑ready build that Dietsch showed to Abbott, who then presented it to Dooma, the studio’s early development partner.

From there, the project attracted Dooma’s CFO and narrative director, Dooma Wendschuh, a former film producer and screenwriter who had transitioned to games in the early 2000s. Wendschuh’s résumé includes writing credits on Prince of Persia: The Two Thrones, Assassin’s Creed, and Batman: Arkham Origins, as well as founding the cannabis formulation company Ebbu, which sold for C$430 million.

After selling his cannabis venture, Wendschuh bought a remote island restaurant in Canada, intending to retire. Yet a call from his old Hollywood‑hillroommate, Michael Abbott, pulled him back into the industry.

"I watched the demo Joe sent me and it blew my mind," Wendschuh says, prompting him to join the effort and bring in strategic advisor Reid Schneider, former Warner Bros. Games VP, and CTO Pierre‑Olivier Chartrand, a veteran programmer from Ubisoft Montreal. Funding proved to be the next hurdle.

The team began pitching in the summer of 2023, a period marked by a broader industry downturn. Despite the market headwinds, the concept generated enthusiasm. After a series of refinements and the involvement of Creative Artists Agency (CAA) as representation, Wolf Haus closed a seed round with Lifelike Capital and Krafton in 2024.

Wendschuh notes that CAA’s connections, along with the credibility of advisors like Schneider and Chartrand, were instrumental in convincing investors. What truly sets Join Us apart is the scale of the undertaking relative to the staff size. With only thirteen full‑time employees, the studio deliberately kept the team small to preserve a collaborative culture where every voice matters.

Dietsch explains that early in development the team focused heavily on building robust, scalable tools. "If a system can’t be debugged and expanded by a single person, the whole project collapses," he says.

Consequently, the first year was split between designing gameplay and engineering the pipelines that would support a sprawling open world. The equity funding model gave Wolf Haus the breathing room to perfect those tools. Krafton and Lifelike’s capital was used to self‑fund the game’s development, with only a modest amount of project finance earmarked for marketing. "Our investors want the studio to increase its enterprise value, so they encourage us to invest in tooling," Wendschuh explains.

"When we hit a technical roadblock, we simply build a custom tool. It may slow us down short‑term, but it enables a tiny team to deliver a product of this magnitude." In an era where many studios tout generative‑AI shortcuts, Wolf Haus has taken a contrary stance.

Dietsch affirms that no generative AI was employed in any creative capacity. "We believe a human touch is essential.

Using AI to generate assets 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. Krafton, despite branding itself as an "AI‑first" company, also insisted that Wolf Haus refrain from using generative AI in the creative pipeline.

This mirrors the position of Krafton‑owned Neon Giant, which publicly distanced itself from the parent’s AI pivot. Both studios emphasize preserving jobs for voice actors, artists, and other creatives. Dietsch confirms that the six‑kilometre‑square map in Join Us is handcrafted, and all 15,000 voice lines were recorded by human performers—a point of pride for the indie team.

Transitioning from film to games has given Dietsch a sense of immediacy he never experienced on a movie set. In film, an idea can take years to materialise, requiring countless approvals and the coordination of high‑profile talent.

In game development, a concept can be prototyped in a single morning, inserted into the engine, and instantly visualised. Wendschuh observes that while film production is front‑loaded with intense, high‑stakes set work, games benefit from fewer gatekeepers. "You don’t need an A‑list actor or director to get a game funded; the barriers are lower," he notes. Both mediums, however, share a common creative impulse: storytelling and immersive experience.

Dietsch reflects on his childhood, recalling a coin‑toss decision between a camera and a gaming console for Christmas. "I learned to program on a TI‑83, so I’ve always loved both," he says.

"Whether you’re making a movie or a game, you’re trying to give someone an experience, tell a story, and engage them. The tools change, but the goal stays the same." Join Us is poised to deliver a unique blend of dark comedy, cooperative mayhem, and cult‑building strategy, all crafted by a lean team that refuses to rely on AI shortcuts. By leveraging deep Hollywood connections, a background in indie filmmaking, and a relentless focus on custom tooling, Wolf Haus demonstrates that a small, passionate crew can still produce a large‑scale, high‑quality game in today’s competitive market.