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 ride pigs, unleash a barrage of machine‑gun fire, 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 the title—was the infamous snake gun.
"One of the developer’s kids came up with the idea and asked, ‘What if there was a snake gun?’ We had a rapid‑prototyping tool for weapons, so in about thirty minutes I built a gun that shoots snakes. The kid went nuts, and the weapon stayed in the final build," Dietsch recalls. This anecdote captures the chaotic, over‑the‑top gameplay that Join Us promises: an open‑world sandbox where players can amass followers—or teammates in co‑op mode—to build a 1970s‑style doomsday cult. The quirky design philosophy mirrors the studio’s broader technical approach.
Michael Abbott, Wolf Haus’s chief operating officer, says the team set out to be "disruptors" by proving that a high‑fidelity, large‑scale game could be produced by a handful of developers. "We told everyone, ‘We don’t need a hundred people; twelve is enough.’ Most people laughed and called us crazy," Abbott explains.
Their confidence stems from a history of doing big things on shoestring budgets in the indie film world, where they learned to "punch above their weight." After 80 pitch meetings, the studio finally secured equity funding 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 alongside Louie Gibson, son of Mel Gibson, who later co‑founded Wolf Haus and co‑wrote and co‑directed the indie films Happy Hunting and Manifest West.
Abbott is the son of veteran makeup artist Larry Abbott and helped launch Ascendant Pictures, the production company originally founded by Chris Roberts before his transition to Star Citizen. Abbott later produced movies such as Fight for ’84 starring Jamie Foxx. Join Us was born from Dietsch’s early experiments in Unreal Engine.
"I discovered Unreal was free to download, and despite loving games for years, the barrier to actually creating something felt huge," he says. He taught himself through YouTube tutorials, built a few modest prototypes, and eventually gravitated toward the concept of a doomsday cult simulator—a hybrid of survival mechanics and grindhouse cinema that merged his passions for movies and games into a single intellectual property.
He built a proof‑of‑concept demo, expecting to hit a technical wall at some point. When he showed the demo to Abbott, the latter recognized its potential and introduced it to Dooma, the company that would later become a key partner. Dooma’s CFO and narrative director, Dooma Wendschuh, began his career as a film producer and screenwriter before moving into games in the early 2000s, providing writing services for titles such as Prince of Persia: The Two Thrones, Assassin’s Creed, and Batman: Arkham Origins. He later founded several tech ventures, including the cannabis formulation firm Ebbu, which sold for C$430 million (about $330 million USD).
After selling Ebbu, Wendschuh bought a remote island restaurant in Canada, planning to retire and enjoy a quiet life. Yet, in true Hollywood fashion, a call from his old roommate Michael Abbott pulled him back.
"I was watching a video of the game Joe made, and it blew my mind. I quit my retirement plan and jumped back in," Wendschuh recalls. He then brought in Reid Schneider, a former Warner Bros.
Games vice‑president now heading Raccoon Logic (the studio behind Journey to the Savage Planet), as a strategic advisor, and recruited Pierre‑Olivier Chartrand, a former Ubisoft Montreal programmer, as chief technology officer. With the core team in place, the next hurdle was financing, which proved difficult during an industry downturn. The studio began pitching in summer 2023, initially receiving polite interest but little commitment. After enlisting the Creative Artists Agency (CAA) as representation and re‑pitching in 2024, they finally closed a seed round with Lifelike Capital and Krafton.
Wendschuh notes that CAA’s connections—representing titles like 007: First Light—and the presence of seasoned veterans like Schneider and Chartrand were instrumental in gaining investor confidence. Despite the high‑profile backing, Wolf Haus remains a lean operation of just 13 full‑time staff. Dietsch emphasizes that the small size is intentional: "We wanted everyone to have a voice, to touch the creative process, and to feel ownership over the game." To make such an ambitious open‑world possible, the studio invested heavily in custom tooling early on. "Every system must be scalable and debuggable by a single person," Dietsch explains.
The first year of development was split between ideating gameplay and building the internal tools that would keep the project from collapsing under its own weight as it expanded across a six‑kilometre‑square map. The equity funding from Krafton and Lifelike allowed the studio to self‑finance the development, with only a modest amount of project finance earmarked for marketing.
"Our investors are incentivized to increase the studio’s enterprise value, so they support our tool‑building ethos," says Wendschuh. This philosophy means that whenever the team encounters a problem they can’t solve with existing assets, they simply create a new tool—even if it slows short‑term progress, it enables the small team to achieve results that would otherwise require dozens of engineers.
When asked about the role of generative AI, Dietsch is unequivocal: the studio does not use it for any creative work. "We believe a human touch is essential.
Using AI to generate content would defeat the purpose of why we love making games," he says. Wendschuh adds that the only AI they employ is for administrative tasks like calendar management and email drafting. Interestingly, Krafton—positioning itself as an "AI‑first" company—insisted that Wolf Haus not rely on generative AI for creative production, echoing similar statements from Krafton‑owned Neon Giant.
The team’s commitment to handcrafted content extends to the game’s massive map and its 15,000 voice lines, all recorded by human actors. "That level of human involvement matters, even for an indie title," Dietsch asserts.
He also highlights a key advantage of game development over film: immediacy. In cinema, a concept can take years to materialise, requiring studio approval, casting, and location logistics. In contrast, a game idea can be prototyped in a single morning, placed into the engine, and instantly visualised. Wendschuh points out that film production is heavily front‑loaded, with intense pre‑production phases to secure high‑profile talent before a studio greenlights a project.
While anyone can technically shoot a low‑budget movie with a backyard camera, breaking through without star power or distribution is rare. By comparison, the barriers to entry for games are lower, and success is more attainable without A‑list names. "You don’t need a Hollywood star or director to make a hit game," he says.
Both Dietsch and Wendschuh agree that storytelling is the common thread linking movies and games. "When I was six, I wanted to make either movies or games; it was a coin toss that landed on a camera for Christmas," Dietsch reminisces. He learned programming on a TI‑83 calculator, blending his love for both mediums. "Whether you’re making a film or a game, you’re delivering an experience, telling a story, and engaging an audience.
That core purpose doesn’t change," he concludes. In summary, Wolf Haus’s Join Us exemplifies how a small, tightly knit team with Hollywood experience, savvy tech development, and a clear stance against over‑reliance on generative AI can produce a large‑scale, high‑quality game.
Their journey—from a free Unreal Engine download to a fully funded, tool‑rich studio—demonstrates that with the right blend of creativity, discipline, and strategic partnerships, even a dozen developers can disrupt the industry and deliver a cult‑simulator that’s as ambitious as it is idiosyncratic.