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 zip around on pigs, unleash a barrage of machine‑gun fire, and the sequence culminates with an image of massive, Cthulhu‑like tentacles. What didn’t make it into the teaser was the infamous "snake gun," a quirky weapon that CEO and creative director Joe Dietsch says was born from a child’s off‑hand suggestion. According to Dietsch, one of the developers’ sons asked, “Can there be a snake gun?” The team already had a modular weapon system that allowed rapid prototyping, so within roughly thirty minutes Dietsch coded a firearm that literally fired serpents.
The result delighted the kid and earned a permanent spot in the game, illustrating the kind of off‑the‑wall gameplay Join Us promises. Join Us is an open‑world sandbox survival experience where players can recruit followers—or teammates in co‑op mode—to build a 1970s‑style cult. The title’s chaotic, tongue‑in‑cheek tone mirrors the development philosophy of Wolf Haus Games, a studio that set out to prove that a high‑fidelity, content‑rich title can be built by a tiny crew. COO Michael Abbott summed up the ambition: “We wanted to be disruptors.
We told ourselves we could do everything with twelve people, and everyone else thought we were crazy.” The team’s confidence stems from a background in low‑budget, high‑impact filmmaking. Abbott’s father, Larry Abbott, was a veteran Hollywood makeup artist, and Michael helped launch Ascendant Pictures, the production house founded by Chris Roberts before he turned his attention to Star Citizen. Abbott later produced movies such as Fight for ’84 starring Jamie Foxx. Dietsch, meanwhile, studied film at Chapman University alongside Louie Gibson—son of Mel Gibson—and the two co‑wrote and co‑directed indie features like Happy Hunting and Manifest West.
This cinematic pedigree gave the founders a knack for punching well above their weight, a skill they transferred to game development. The seed of Join Us sprouted when Dietsch began experimenting with Unreal Engine, attracted by the fact that the engine could be downloaded for free. He recalls spending countless evenings watching YouTube tutorials, creating tiny prototypes, and eventually stumbling on the concept of a “doomsday cult simulator” that blended survival mechanics with grindhouse cinema aesthetics. After a few modest games, he decided to push the idea further, building a proof‑of‑concept demo that he showed to Abbott.
Abbott then introduced the demo to Dooma, a production partner that helped shape the early vision. Another key figure, Dooma CFO and narrative director Dooma Wendschuh, entered the picture after a career that spanned film production, screenwriting, and video‑game narrative work.
In the early 2000s he founded Sekretagent Productions, providing writing services for titles such as Prince of Persia: The Two Thrones, Assassin’s Creed, and Batman: Arkham Origins. Later he launched several tech ventures, most notably the cannabis‑formulation company Ebbu, which sold for roughly C$430 million (about $330 million USD).
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—who mentioned a friend’s video‑game project—pulled him back into the industry. The demo impressed him so much that he re‑entered development, eventually bringing on Reid Schneider, former Warner Bros. Games VP and now head of Raccoon Logic, as a strategic advisor.
Schneider recruited Pierre‑Olivier Chartrand, a former Ubisoft Montreal programmer, to serve as chief technology officer. Funding proved to be the next hurdle.
The studio began pitching in the summer of 2023, a period marked by an industry downturn. Despite the challenging climate, the team secured representation from CAA in Los Angeles and continued to pitch throughout 2024. Their persistence paid off when they closed a seed round with Krafton and Lifelike Capital, both taking equity stakes in Wolf Haus. Wendschuh notes that CAA’s connections—such as representing titles like 007: First Light—and the involvement of seasoned veterans like Schneider and Chartrand were instrumental in gaining investor confidence.
What truly sets Join Us apart is the way it is being built: a full‑scale, open‑world game developed by just thirteen full‑time staff members. From the outset, the studio emphasized creating robust internal tools. "If a system exists in the game, it must be scalable and debuggable by a single person," says Dietsch.
The first year of development was therefore split between ideating gameplay and engineering the toolset that would allow those ideas to scale across a six‑kilometre‑square map without collapsing under its own weight. This tooling‑first approach also aligns with the studio’s equity‑funded model, which provides the financial runway to perfect those tools rather than rush features. Both Krafton and Lifelike Capital have taken an equity position, meaning the game has essentially been self‑funded. The studio can now allocate a modest amount of project finance for marketing, but the core development has been covered by the investors’ capital.
This arrangement incentivizes the backers to support Wolf Haus’s tool‑centric ethos, as any problem the team encounters is solved by building a bespoke utility—even if that slows short‑term progress, it enables a small team to deliver a large‑scale product. When asked about generative AI, the team is unequivocal: they do not employ it for creative work. Dietsch explains that the studio believes a human touch is essential to game creation; relying on AI would undermine the very reason they love making games. Wendschuh adds that while they may use AI for mundane tasks like calendar management or email drafting, it never touches the artistic side of development.
Interestingly, Krafton—a company that has publicly branded itself as “AI‑first”—specifically required Wolf Haus to avoid generative AI in the creative pipeline, mirroring similar statements from Krafton‑owned Neon Giant. The commitment to handcrafted content extends to the game’s assets.
The entire six‑kilometre‑square map is manually built, and the 15,000 voice lines are recorded by human actors, not synthetic voices. Dietsch emphasizes that preserving that level of human craftsmanship was non‑negotiable, even for an indie studio of their size. Reflecting on the differences between film and games, Dietsch notes that games offer immediacy. In cinema, an idea can take years to materialize, requiring countless approvals and the involvement of high‑profile talent.
By contrast, a game concept can be prototyped within hours, allowing creators to iterate rapidly and see results directly in the engine. Wendschuh observes that while film production is front‑loaded with intense, high‑stakes set work, games have far fewer gatekeepers, making it easier for small teams to achieve success without needing A‑list actors or directors. Both founders trace their passion back to childhood.
Dietsch recalls wanting to make either movies or games at age six, a decision that ultimately hinged on a Christmas gift—a camera. He taught himself programming on a TI‑83 calculator, laying the groundwork for a career that now bridges storytelling across two mediums.
In his view, whether through film or interactive entertainment, the core goal remains the same: to craft an experience, tell a story, and engage an audience.