You may remember seeing the Join Us trailer during the Xbox Showcase in June. The clip introduced a darkly humorous co‑op cult simulator where robed followers charge on pigs, unleash machine‑guns, and the finale hints at colossal, Cthulhu‑like tentacles. What didn’t make the cut, according to Joe Dietsch—CEO and creative director of Wolf Haus Games, the studio behind Join Us—was the infamous snake gun.
"One of the developer’s kids suggested a snake‑shooting weapon," Dietsch recounts. "We had a rapid‑prototyping tool, so within half an hour I built a gun that fires snakes.
The kid was thrilled, and the weapon stayed in the final build." That anecdote captures the chaotic, over‑the‑top gameplay that Join Us promises: an open‑world sandbox where you can recruit followers—or friends in co‑op mode—to join a 1970s‑style cult. It also illustrates the studio’s technology‑first mindset, which has allowed a small crew to produce a high‑fidelity title that would normally require a much larger staff.
"We set out to be disruptors," says Michael Abbott, Wolf Haus’s chief operating officer. "We told everyone we could build this with twelve people.
Most people laughed and said it was impossible," Abbott adds. The team’s confidence stems from a background in indie filmmaking, where they learned to achieve big results on shoestring budgets.
After eighty pitch meetings, they finally secured equity funding from Krafton and Lifelike Capital, both of which took stakes in Wolf Haus. The founders’ Hollywood credentials run deep.
Dietsch studied film at Chapman University alongside Louie Gibson, son of Mel Gibson and fellow Wolf Haus co‑founder. 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 he turned his attention to Star Citizen. Abbott later produced movies such as Fight for ’84, starring Jamie Foxx.
Join Us began as a personal experiment for Dietsch in Unreal Engine. "Unreal was free to download, and I’d always loved games. It felt like a huge barrier to actually create something, so I started learning from YouTube tutorials," he explains. Without prior development experience, he built a few tiny prototypes before committing to a larger vision: a doomsday cult simulator that fused survival mechanics with grindhouse‑film aesthetics.
He crafted a proof‑of‑concept, expecting to hit a technical wall at some point. When he showed the demo to Abbott, the latter immediately took it to Dooma, the studio’s early‑stage investor.
Dooma’s CFO and narrative director, Dooma Wendschuh, had begun his career as a film producer and screenwriter before moving into games in the early 2000s, contributing writing to titles like Prince of Persia: The Two Thrones, Assassin’s Creed, and Batman: Arkham Origins. He later founded several tech ventures, including 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, changed his plans.
"He said a friend had made a video game. I looked at it, and it blew my mind.
It pulled me out of retirement," Wendschuh recalls. 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 a core team forming, the next hurdle was financing—a difficult task given the industry downturn of 2023‑24.
The studio began pitching in summer 2023, receiving positive but cautious feedback. After partnering with CAA in Los Angeles and re‑pitching in 2024, they finally closed a seed round with Lifelike Capital and Krafton. Abbott credits CAA’s representation—also handling titles like 007: First Light—and the presence of seasoned veterans like Schneider and Chartrand for opening doors. "My agent at CAA, Derek Douglas, had represented me during my twelve‑year game‑making career and previously ran the video‑game department at William Morris," notes Wendschuh.
Despite the pedigree, Join Us is being built by just thirteen full‑time staff members. "We entered the project knowing exactly what we wanted to achieve, but we also wanted a small‑team culture where everyone’s voice matters and everyone can touch the creative side," says Dietsch. To make such an ambitious open‑world possible with a tiny crew, the studio invested heavily in custom tools early on. "Any system in the game must be scalable and debuggable by a single person," Dietsch explains.
The first year of development was split between designing gameplay concepts and building the underlying toolset that would keep the project from collapsing under its own weight as features expanded across the map. The equity funding model gave Wolf Haus the runway to perfect those tools. "Krafton and Lifelike’s investments have essentially self‑funded the game.
We’re now adding a small amount of project finance for marketing, but the development itself was covered by their equity," Wendschuh says. This structure aligns investors’ interests with the studio’s long‑term value creation, encouraging the team to keep building robust tools rather than cutting corners. When asked about generative AI—a hot topic in game development—Dietsch is unequivocal: the studio does not use it for creative work.
"We believe a human touch is essential. Handing development over to an AI would defeat the reason we get up each morning," he states. Wendschuh adds that the only AI they employ is for mundane tasks like calendar management and email drafting. Krafton, despite branding itself as an "AI‑first" company, explicitly required Wolf Haus to avoid generative AI in the creative pipeline.
This mirrors Krafton‑owned Neon Giant’s public stance that it does not participate in the parent company’s AI pivot. Both studios emphasize respect for creative professionals, noting concerns that AI could displace voice actors and artists.
Indeed, Join Us’s six‑kilometre‑square map is hand‑crafted, and its 15,000 voice lines were recorded by human performers—a point of pride for a studio of this size. Dietsch also reflects on the contrast between filmmaking and game development. In film, an idea can take years to materialise, requiring approvals, big‑name talent, and studio green‑lights.
In games, an idea can be prototyped the same day it is conceived, allowing immediate iteration. "You can have an idea at breakfast and see it in the engine by lunch," he says, highlighting the immediacy that attracted him to the medium. Wendschuh notes that movies are front‑loaded with intense, high‑stakes production phases, often dependent on securing a handful of A‑list names. While anyone can shoot a low‑budget film, breaking through without star power or distribution is rare.
By contrast, the barriers to publishing a successful game are lower; you don’t need an A‑list actor or director to reach an audience. Both founders agree that the core creative impulse is the same across mediums: to tell a story, craft an experience, and engage an audience. "When I was six, I wanted to make either movies or games—it boiled down to a coin toss and whether I got a camera for Christmas," Dietsch laughs.
"Whether you’re making a film or a game, you’re delivering an experience and a narrative, and that doesn’t change."