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 charge on pig‑mounted steeds, wielding machine guns, before the screen fades to a massive, Cthulhu‑like mass of tentacles. One element that didn’t make the final cut was the infamous "snake gun," a quirky weapon that Joe Dietsch, the chief executive officer and creative director of Wolf Haus Games, says was born from a simple request. "One of the developers’ kids asked, ‘Can we have a snake‑shooting gun?’" Dietsch recalls.
"Because we had built a modular gun system, I could prototype it in roughly thirty minutes. The kid went wild, and the weapon stayed in the game." This anecdote captures the chaotic, improvisational spirit that defines Join Us, an open‑world sandbox survival title where players can recruit followers—or invite friends in co‑op mode—to build a 1970s‑style cult. It also illustrates the studio’s technology‑first mindset, which has enabled a high‑fidelity experience to be assembled by a remarkably small team. Michael Abbott, Wolf Haus’s chief operating officer, describes the team’s ambition as deliberately disruptive.
"We told everyone, ‘We don’t need a hundred‑person studio; twelve people can do this.’" Most industry insiders dismissed the claim as impossible, but the founders drew confidence from their backgrounds in low‑budget, high‑impact filmmaking. "We come from indie film,” Abbott notes, “so we’re used to punching far above our weight.” After 80 pitch meetings, the studio finally secured equity financing from Krafton and Lifelike Capital, both of which took stakes in Wolf Haus.
The founding trio’s Hollywood connections run deep. Dietsch studied film at Chapman University alongside Louie Gibson—son of Mel Gibson—who later co‑founded Wolf Haus and 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 later produced movies such as Fight for ’84, starring Jamie Foxx.
Join Us originated from Dietsch’s experimentation in Unreal Engine. "I discovered Unreal was free to download and started learning from YouTube tutorials," he says.
Though he had no formal game‑development background, Dietsch built a few small prototypes before committing to a larger vision: a doomsday cult simulator that fused his love of survival games with grindhouse cinema. He created a proof‑of‑concept demo, ran into technical roadblocks, and showed the result to Abbott, who then introduced the project to Dooma. Dooma Wendschuh, Wolf Haus’s chief financial officer and narrative director, began his career as a film producer and screenwriter before moving into games in the early 2000s.
He founded Sekretagent Productions, providing narrative services for titles like 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 (US$330 million). After selling Ebbu, Wendschuh bought a remote restaurant on a tiny Canadian island, intending to retire.
Yet a call from his old Hollywood‑hill roommate, Michael Abbott, pulled him back into development. "I watched the demo Joe sent me and it blew my mind," Wendschuh says, prompting him to bring the project to Reid Schneider, a former vice‑president at Warner Bros. Games and now head of Raccoon Logic, the studio behind Journey to the Savage Planet. Schneider joined as a strategic advisor and recruited Pierre‑Olivier Chartrand, a former Ubisoft Montreal programmer, to serve as chief technology officer.
With the core team assembled, the next hurdle was financing—a daunting task amid an industry downturn that began in 2023. The studio began pitching in the summer of that year, receiving enthusiastic but non‑committal feedback. After signing with Creative Artists Agency (CAA) in Los Angeles, the team re‑pitched throughout 2024 and finally closed a seed round with Lifelike Capital and Krafton. Wendschuh credits the CAA connection—alongside veteran advisors like Schneider and Chartrand—for opening doors that might otherwise have stayed shut.
Despite the high‑profile backing, Wolf Haus has deliberately kept its staff lean: only 13 full‑time employees. "We wanted a small‑team culture where everyone has a voice and touches the creative process," Dietsch explains. To make such an ambitious open‑world game feasible with a tiny crew, the studio invested heavily in internal tooling from day one.
"Any system we build must be scalable and debuggable by a single person," he says. The first year of development was split between ideating gameplay and constructing the underlying tools, a strategy that also positions the studio to reuse those tools for future projects.
The equity financing model gave Wolf Haus the runway to perfect its pipeline. "Krafton and Lifelike’s investment essentially self‑funded the game," Wendschuh notes.
While the studio is now seeking modest project‑finance for marketing, the core development has been covered entirely by the equity partners. This arrangement aligns investors’ incentives 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—both Dietsch and Wendschuh are unequivocal: they do not use it for creative work. "We believe a human touch is essential," Dietsch says.
"We have a few subscriptions for mundane tasks like calendar management, but nothing that influences design, art, or writing." Krafton, despite branding itself as an "AI‑first" company, also insisted that Wolf Haus avoid generative AI in its creative pipeline, mirroring the stance of other Krafton‑owned studios such as Neon Giant. The commitment to handcrafted content extends to the game’s massive six‑kilometre‑square map and its 15,000 voice lines, all recorded by human actors. "That level of manual effort matters to us, even as a small indie," Wendschuh asserts.
This philosophy reflects a broader concern that AI could displace voice talent and artists, a risk the team is unwilling to accept. Dietsch highlights a key advantage of games over film: immediacy. In cinema, an idea can take years to materialise, subject to endless approvals and scheduling constraints.
In game development, a concept can be prototyped in a matter of hours, allowing creators to see and iterate on their vision instantly. Wendschuh adds that film production is heavily front‑loaded, requiring the attachment of high‑profile directors or actors before a project can be green‑lit.
By contrast, the video‑game market has far fewer gatekeepers; a compelling experience can succeed without celebrity endorsements. Both founders acknowledge that their early fascination with storytelling—whether through movies or interactive media—has remained a constant driver.
"When I was six, I wanted to make either games or movies; a coin toss decided which path I pursued," Dietsch reflects. "The core goal is the same: to craft an experience, tell a story, and engage an audience, regardless of the medium."