The teaser for Join Us first appeared during the Xbox Showcase in June, presenting a darkly humorous cooperative cult simulator where robed followers zip around on pigs, wielding machine guns, before the screen fades to a Cthulhu‑like mass of tentacles. What didn’t make the final cut was the infamous snake gun, a weapon that originated from a child’s off‑hand suggestion, according to Joe Dietsch, the CEO and creative director of Wolf Haus Games.
"One of the developer’s kids asked, ‘What would a snake‑firing gun look like?’" Dietsch recounts. "We had a rapid‑prototyping tool that could scale a weapon in minutes, so I whipped up a snake gun in about half an hour. The kid went nuts, and it stayed in the final build." That anecdote captures the chaotic, over‑the‑top gameplay that Join Us promises: an open‑world sandbox where players can amass followers—or invite friends in co‑op—to build a 1970s‑style cult empire.
It also highlights the studio’s technology‑first mindset, which has allowed a relatively tiny crew to produce a high‑fidelity title that would normally require a much larger budget. Michael Abbott, the studio’s chief operating officer, explains the ambition: "We set out to be disruptors. The industry assumes you need a hundred‑person team to pull off a game of this scope.
We said, ‘No, we can do it with twelve.’ Everyone thought we were dreaming." The founders bring a wealth of experience from low‑budget filmmaking, where they learned to punch far above their weight. "Our background is indie film," Abbott notes. "We’re accustomed to making something spectacular with limited resources." After an exhaustive 80‑pitch marathon, the team secured equity financing from Kraft on and Lifelike Capital. Both investors took a stake in Wolf Haus, providing the cash needed to move from prototype to full production.
The leadership’s Hollywood roots run deep. Dietsch attended Chapman University alongside Louie Gibson, son of Mel Gibson, and together they co‑wrote and co‑directed the indie features Happy Hunting and Manifest West. Abbott, the son of veteran makeup artist Larry Abbott, helped launch Ascendant Pictures—originally founded by Chris Roberts before his venture into Star Citizen—and later produced movies such as Fight for ’84 with Jamie Foxx. Join Us was born when Dietsch began experimenting with Unreal Engine after discovering it was free to download.
"I’d been a gamer for as long as I’ve been a movie‑goer, but the barrier to actually create something felt massive," he says. "I started learning from YouTube tutorials, built a few tiny games, and then the cult‑survival concept kept resurfacing. It married my love for grindhouse cinema with the emergent gameplay of survival sims." The proof‑of‑concept grew from a simple experiment into a demo that impressed Abbott, who then introduced it to Dooma. Dooma’s CFO and narrative director, Dooma Wendschuh, had a career that straddled film and games, having written for titles like Prince of Persia: The Two Thrones, Assassin’s Creed, and Batman: Arkham Origins through his own studio, Sekretagent Productions.
He later sold a cannabis‑formulation company, Ebbu, for C$430 million, retired to a remote Canadian island, and was coaxed back into the industry after a call from his old Hollywood‑Hills roommate, Michael Abbott. Wendschuh brought on Reid Schneider, a former Warner Bros. Games VP now heading Raccoon Logic, as a strategic advisor, and recruited Pierre‑Olivier Chartrand, ex‑Ubisoft Montreal programmer, to serve as chief technology officer.
With the core team assembled, the next hurdle was funding—an uphill battle given the industry’s downturn in mid‑2023. "Pitch after pitch, people liked what we were building but were cautious about the market climate," Dietsch recalls. The studio eventually partnered with CAA in Los Angeles, refreshed its approach, and secured seed rounds from Lifelike Capital and Kraft on in 2024.
Wendschuh believes the CAA connection, plus veteran advisors like Schneider and Chartrand, were decisive. Despite the high‑profile backing, the studio remains lean: only 13 full‑time staff members. "We entered the project knowing exactly what scope we could handle," says Dietsch. "We also wanted a small‑team culture where every voice matters and everyone can touch the creative core." To make such an ambitious open‑world feasible, Wolf Haus invested heavily in internal tooling early on.
"Every system must be scalable and debuggable by a single developer," Dietsch explains. "We built a robust toolkit so that as features proliferated across a six‑kilometer‑square map, the engine wouldn’t collapse under its own weight.
The first year was as much about building the tools as it was about designing the game." The equity model gave the studio the runway to perfect those tools. "Kraft on and Lifelike’s money directly funded development, making the game essentially self‑sponsored," Wendschuh notes. "We’ve only taken on a modest amount of project finance for marketing." One notable stance is the firm’s refusal to rely on generative AI for creative work.
"We deliberately avoid AI‑generated assets," Dietsch says. "The human touch is essential to why we get up each morning." Wendschuh adds, "We do use AI for mundane tasks like calendar management, but nothing that influences the artistic side." Even Kraft on, which has branded itself as an ‘AI‑first’ company, insisted that Wolf Haus avoid AI in its creative pipeline.
The investor’s caution mirrors the approach of Neon Giant, another Kraft on‑backed studio that publicly declared its separation from the parent’s AI pivot. The commitment to handcrafted content is evident: the entire map is hand‑built, and the game features roughly 15,000 voice lines recorded by real actors—a remarkable achievement for an indie team. Dietsch reflects on the contrast between film and game development. In cinema, an idea can take years to reach a set, requiring approvals and the coordination of high‑profile talent.
In games, an inspiration can be coded and tested within the same day. "That immediacy is exhilarating," he says. Wendschuh observes that film production is heavily front‑loaded, with intensive pre‑production and the need to secure star power to green‑light a project.
By comparison, games face fewer gatekeepers; a small studio can release a successful title without A‑list names. Both mediums share a core creative impulse: storytelling and immersion.
"Whether you’re making a film or a game, you’re delivering an experience, telling a story, and engaging an audience," Dietsch concludes, noting that his childhood ambition to make either a movie or a game ultimately led him down this hybrid path.