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 zip around on pigs, unleash machine‑gun fire, and ultimately confront colossal, Cthulhu‑like tentacles. One detail that didn’t make the final cut was the infamous snake gun, a weapon that Joe Dietsch, the CEO and creative director of Wolf Haus Games, says was born from a child’s off‑hand suggestion. "One of the team members’ sons asked if we could make a snake‑shooting gun," Dietsch recalls.
"We had a modular weapon system that let us prototype new guns in minutes, so I whipped up a snake‑gun in about half an hour. The kid went nuts, and we kept it in the game." This anecdote encapsulates 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 produced by a remarkably small crew. Michael Abbott, Wolf Haus’s chief operating officer, sums up their philosophy: "We wanted to be disruptors.
We told everyone we could build a AAA‑level game with just twelve people, and most people laughed. But we’ve spent our careers punching far above our weight, so we knew it was possible." Their background in indie film gave them a taste for doing big things on shoestring budgets.
After 80 pitches, the team finally secured equity financing from Krafton and Lifelike Capital, both of which now hold stakes in Wolf Haus. The founders’ Hollywood roots run deep. Dietsch studied film at Chapman University alongside Louie Gibson, the son of Mel Gibson and a 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 founded by Chris Roberts before his transition to Star Citizen. Abbott later produced films such as Fight for ’84, starring Jamie Foxx. Join Us began as a personal experiment in Unreal Engine. "I discovered Unreal was free to download and started tinkering after watching YouTube tutorials," Dietsch explains.
"I’d been a gamer forever, but the barrier to actually creating something felt huge. Unreal lowered that gate, and I built a few tiny prototypes before deciding to go bigger." The concept that stuck with him was a doomsday cult simulator that fused survival mechanics with grindhouse cinema aesthetics—essentially a mash‑up of his favorite film and game tropes. He built a proof‑of‑concept demo and showed it to Abbott, who then presented it to Dooma.
Dooma’s CFO and narrative director, Dooma Wendschuh, had previously produced and written for film before moving into games in the early 2000s, providing writing services for 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 C$430 million.
After a brief retirement on a remote Canadian island, a call from his old Hollywood roommate Michael Abbott pulled him back into development. Wendschuh took the demo to Reid Schneider, a former Warner Bros. Games VP now heading Raccoon Logic, the makers of Journey to the Savage Planet. Schneider joined 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 funding—an especially tough task during the industry downturn of 2023‑2024. The studio signed with Creative Artists Agency (CAA) and embarked on a second round of pitches in 2024, eventually closing a seed round with Lifelike Capital and Krafton. Wendschuh believes the CAA connection, which also represents titles like 007: First Light, and the presence of seasoned veterans like Schneider and Chartrand were decisive. "My agent Derek Douglas had been representing me for twelve years and had previously run the video‑game department at William Morris," Wendschuh notes.
Despite the high‑profile backing, Join Us is being built by just 13 full‑time staff. Dietsch says the team deliberately kept the roster small to preserve a collaborative atmosphere where every voice matters. To make such an ambitious project feasible, they invested heavily in custom tooling from the outset.
"Any system in the game has to be scalable and debuggable by a single person," he explains. "We built a toolkit that lets us expand features across a massive open world without the project collapsing under its own weight." The first year of development was therefore split between designing gameplay and engineering the tools that would later enable rapid iteration. The equity funding model gave Wolf Haus the runway to perfect these tools.
Krafton and Lifelike’s capital was used to self‑fund the game, with only a modest amount of project finance earmarked for marketing. "Because our investors own equity, they’re motivated to increase the studio’s enterprise value," says Wendschuh. "That means they support our tool‑heavy approach, even if it slows short‑term progress, because it lets us achieve a AAA scope with a tiny team." When asked about generative AI, Dietsch gives a clear answer: none is used in the creative pipeline.
"We believe a human touch is essential. Hand‑crafting the experience is why we get up in the morning," he says.
Wendschuh adds that the only AI tools in the office handle mundane tasks like calendar management and email drafting. Interestingly, Krafton—publicly branding itself as an "AI‑first" company—insisted that Wolf Haus not employ generative AI for core development, mirroring a similar stance taken by Krafton‑owned Neon Giant. The studio’s commitment to handcrafted content extends to the game’s world and audio. The six‑kilometre‑square map is entirely hand‑built, and the 15,000 voice lines were recorded by real actors, not synthetic voices.
"We wanted every element to feel alive and human, even as an indie title," Dietsch emphasizes. Dietsch also reflects on the differences between film and games. In cinema, an idea can take years to materialise, requiring approvals, casting, and studio green‑lights. In games, an inspiration can be prototyped in a matter of hours, allowing immediate feedback and iteration.
Wendschuh points out that film production is front‑loaded with high‑stakes negotiations for A‑list talent, whereas games have far fewer gatekeepers. "You don’t need a Hollywood star to sell a game; you just need a compelling experience," he says. Both mediums, however, share a core purpose: storytelling and immersion.
"When I was six, I wanted to make either movies or games. It came down to a coin toss and a Christmas camera," Dietsch laughs.
"Programming on a TI‑83 taught me the basics, and whether you’re making a film or a game, you’re delivering an experience, telling a story, and engaging an audience. That fundamental drive hasn’t changed."