The trailer for Join Us first appeared during the Xbox Showcase in June, offering a glimpse of a darkly humorous co‑op cult simulator where robed followers zip around on pigs, unleash a barrage of machine‑gun fire, and conclude with a monstrous, Cthulhu‑like tangle of tentacles. One element that didn’t make the final cut was the infamous snake gun, a quirky weapon that Joe Dietsch—CEO and creative director of Wolf Haus Games—attributes to a spontaneous suggestion from a team member’s child.
"His son asked, ‘What if there’s a snake‑shooter?’" Dietsch recalls. "Because we built a modular gun system, I could prototype a snake‑firing weapon in about thirty minutes. The kid went nuts, and the gun stayed in the game." That anecdote perfectly captures the chaotic, sandbox‑style gameplay that Join Us promises.
Players are invited to build and lead a 1970s‑inspired cult, recruiting both AI followers and real‑world co‑op partners to expand their influence across an open‑world map. Yet beyond the wacky premise, the project showcases a technology‑first mindset that has enabled a high‑fidelity, large‑scale experience to be assembled by a remarkably small crew. Michael Abbott, Wolf Haus’s chief operating officer, summed up their ambition: "We set out to be disruptors. We told everyone we could deliver a AAA‑level product with just twelve people, and most dismissed us as naïve." The team’s confidence wasn’t unfounded.
Their backgrounds in independent filmmaking taught them to achieve cinematic results on shoestring budgets. "We grew up making indie movies, constantly punching above our weight," Abbott explains. After a marathon of eighty pitches, the studio finally secured equity financing from Krafton and Lifelike Capital, both of which took stakes in Wolf Haus.
The founders’ Hollywood pedigree runs deep. Dietsch studied film at Chapman University, where he met Louie Gibson—son of actor‑director 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 transition to Star Citizen. Abbott’s film résumé also includes producing credits on titles 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 the barrier to creating my own was huge," he says. He taught himself the engine through YouTube tutorials, eventually crafting a handful of small prototypes. The concept that stuck was a doomsday cult simulator—a blend of survival mechanics and grindhouse cinema that merged his twin passions for movies and games into a single intellectual property.
He built a proof‑of‑concept demo, assuming it would eventually hit a technical wall. When he showed the demo to Abbott, the latter recognized its potential and introduced it to Dooma, a venture partner.
Dooma’s CFO and narrative director, Dooma Wendschuh, had previously worked as a producer and screenwriter before pivoting to games in the early 2000s, contributing writing to Prince of Persia: The Two Thrones, Assassin’s Creed, and Batman: Arkham Origins. He later founded several tech ventures, most notably the cannabis formulation company Ebbu, which sold for roughly C$430 million. After selling Ebbu, Wendschuh bought a remote island restaurant in Canada, intending to retire.
Yet a call from his old Hollywood Hills roommate, Michael Abbott, pulled him back into development. "I was looking at the demo Joe sent me and it blew my mind," Wendschuh recalls, prompting him to exit retirement. He then brought on Reid Schneider—former Warner Bros.
Games VP and now head of Raccoon Logic—to act as 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, which proved difficult amid a market downturn in 2023.
Initial pitches generated interest but no commitments. After partnering with CAA in Los Angeles and re‑pitching in 2024, Wolf Haus finally closed a seed round with Lifelike Capital and Krafton. Wendschuh credits the CAA connection—also representing titles like 007: First Light—and the presence of seasoned veterans such as Schneider and Chartrand for opening doors.
Despite the high‑profile backing, the studio remains lean: only thirteen full‑time staff members. "We entered the project with a clear understanding of scope and deliberately kept the team small so everyone could have a voice and touch the creative process," Dietsch explains. To make such an ambitious title feasible, the studio invested heavily in custom tooling early on. "Every system we build must be scalable and debuggable by a single person," he notes.
The first year of development was therefore split between designing gameplay concepts and constructing the internal tools that would later allow those concepts to flourish across a six‑kilometre‑square open world. The equity funding model gave Wolf Haus the runway to perfect those tools. "Krafton and Lifelike’s investment essentially self‑funded the game," says Wendschuh. "We’re now only using a small amount of project finance for marketing, but the core development was covered by our equity partners.
Their stake aligns them with our long‑term studio value, encouraging us to build robust tools rather than cut corners." When asked about the role of generative AI—a hot topic in the industry—Dietsch gave a blunt answer: the studio does not employ it in game creation. "We believe a human touch is essential. Hand‑crafting the experience is why we get up in the morning," he says. Wendschuh adds that while the team may use AI for mundane tasks like calendar management, it never touches the creative pipeline.
Interestingly, Krafton, which has publicly positioned itself as an "AI‑first" company, explicitly required that Wolf Haus refrain from using generative AI in its creative workflow, echoing similar statements from other Krafton‑owned studios. The commitment to human‑generated content extends to the game's assets. The six‑kilometre‑square map was manually designed, and the 15,000 voice lines were recorded by real actors—not AI‑generated voices.
"That level of craftsmanship mattered to us, even as a small indie," Wendschuh emphasizes. Dietsch also reflects on the differences between film and game production. In cinema, an idea can take years to materialise, requiring approvals, casting, and extensive pre‑production. In contrast, a game concept can be prototyped within hours and tested directly in the engine, offering immediate feedback.
"You can have an idea at breakfast and see it in the engine by lunch," he says, highlighting the rapid iteration cycle that fuels his enthusiasm. Wendschuh notes that film projects are heavily front‑loaded, with massive coordination required to secure A‑list talent and studio green‑lights. While anyone can technically shoot a movie with a backyard camera, breaking through without marquee names is rare.
Games, however, have a lower barrier to entry; a compelling experience can succeed without celebrity endorsements. "We don’t need an A‑list actor or director to make a hit," he remarks, underscoring the democratizing potential of interactive media. Both founders agree that storytelling is the common thread linking their two careers.
"When I was six, I wanted to make either movies or games—it came down to a coin toss and maybe a camera for Christmas," Dietsch recalls. He learned programming on a TI‑83 calculator, blending technical curiosity with narrative ambition.
"Whether you’re crafting a film or a game, you’re delivering an experience, telling a story, and engaging an audience. That core purpose doesn’t change across mediums."