The teaser for Join Us first caught many eyes when it appeared in the Xbox Showcase back in June. The trailer introduced a darkly humorous cooperative cult‑simulation where robed disciples zip around on pig‑mounted platforms, unleash a barrage of firearms, and ultimately confront colossal, Cthulhu‑like tentacles. One quirky detail that didn’t make the final cut was the “snake gun,” a weapon that shoots serpents, which Joe Dietsch—CEO and creative director of Wolf Haus Games—explains was born from a child’s off‑hand suggestion.

“One of the developers’ kids asked, ‘What would a snake‑gun look like?’ We had a rapid‑prototyping tool that lets us scale weapons in minutes, so I whipped up a snake‑shooter in about thirty minutes. The kid went nuts, and the weapon stayed in the game,” Dietsch recalls. That anecdote perfectly captures the chaotic, improvisational spirit that defines Join Us, an open‑world sandbox survival experience where players can recruit followers—or invite friends in co‑op mode—to build a 1970s‑style cult empire.

The game’s wild mechanics are only one side of the story; the other is Wolf Haus’s decidedly tech‑first philosophy, which has allowed a tiny crew to produce a visually impressive, high‑fidelity title. Michael Abbott, the studio’s chief operating officer, says the team set out to be “disruptors.” “We told ourselves, ‘We don’t need a hundred‑person studio. Twelve people can do this.’ Everyone else thought we were insane,” Abbott says. Their confidence stems from a background in low‑budget, high‑impact indie filmmaking, where punching above one’s weight is the norm.

After 80 pitch meetings, the studio finally secured equity funding from Krafton and Lifelike Capital, giving Wolf Haus the financial runway to bring their vision to life. The founders’ Hollywood pedigree runs deep. Dietsch studied film at Chapman University in Orange, California, where he met Louie Gibson—son of actor‑director Mel Gibson—and the two later co‑wrote and co‑directed the indie features Happy Hunting and Manifest West.

Abbott is the son of renowned makeup artist Larry Abbott and helped launch Ascendant Pictures, the production company founded 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 originated from Dietsch’s experimentation with Unreal Engine. “I discovered Unreal was free to download, and I’d always loved games but felt blocked by the cost of entry for creating something myself,” he explains.

He taught himself the engine through YouTube tutorials, built a few modest prototypes, and eventually gravitated toward a doomsday cult simulator—a concept that merged his love of survival games with grindhouse cinema aesthetics. The initial proof‑of‑concept was a solo effort, but when Dietsch showed it to Abbott, the latter recognized its potential and passed it to Dooma, the studio’s early‑stage partner. Dooma’s CFO and narrative director, Dooma Wendschuh, had previously produced and written for film before moving into games in the early 2000s, contributing narrative work to titles like Prince of Persia: The Two Thrones, Assassin’s Creed, and Batman: Arkham Origins through his own company, Sekretagent Productions.

He later founded several tech ventures, including the cannabis formulation firm 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, in classic Hollywood fashion, a call from his old roommate Michael Abbott pulled him back into the industry.

“I was ready for a quiet life, but when I saw Joe’s demo it blew my mind and I came out of retirement,” Wendschuh says. He introduced the project to Reid Schneider, a former Warner Bros. Games vice‑president now heading Raccoon Logic, the creators of Journey to the Savage Planet.

Schneider joined as a strategic advisor and recruited Pierre‑Olivier Chartrand, a veteran programmer from Ubisoft Montreal, to serve as chief technology officer. With the core team assembled, the next hurdle was financing—an especially tough challenge during the industry downturn of 2023‑24. The studio began pitching in the summer of 2023, initially receiving polite interest but little commitment. After aligning with CAA (Creative Artists Agency) in Los Angeles and re‑pitching in 2024, Wolf Haus finally closed a seed round with Lifelike Capital and Krafton.

Wendschuh credits the CAA connection and the presence of seasoned veterans like Schneider and Chartrand for opening doors that might otherwise have stayed closed. Despite the high‑profile backing, the studio remains lean: only 13 full‑time employees are on the payroll. Dietsch emphasizes that the small size is intentional, fostering an environment where every voice matters and each team member can touch both creative and technical aspects of the game. To make such an ambitious project feasible, Wolf Haus invested heavily in custom tooling from the outset.

“Any system we build must be scalable and debuggable by a single person,” Dietsch notes. “We spent the first year simultaneously designing gameplay and building the internal tools that would let us expand the world without the project collapsing under its own weight.” The equity model with Krafton and Lifelike allowed the studio to self‑fund development, using investor capital to cover production costs while reserving a modest amount of project finance for marketing. This arrangement aligns investor incentives with the studio’s long‑term value creation, encouraging the team to continue building reusable tools even when they temporarily slow down feature implementation.

When asked about the role of generative AI, the answer is a resounding no. Dietsch states, “We don’t use generative AI for any creative work.

Game development is a craft we enjoy doing by hand; handing it over to an algorithm would defeat the purpose.” Wendschuh adds that the studio only uses AI for mundane tasks like calendar management and email drafting. Interestingly, Krafton—positioned as an “AI‑first” company—specifically required Wolf Haus to avoid AI‑generated content, mirroring similar stances taken by other Krafton‑owned studios such as Neon Giant.

The commitment to human‑crafted content extends to the game’s massive six‑kilometre‑square map, which was entirely hand‑modeled, and the 15,000 voice lines, all recorded by real actors. “That level of manual effort is crucial for us, even as a small indie studio,” Dietsch says. Dietsch also reflects on the differences between film and games.

In cinema, an idea can take years to materialize, requiring countless approvals and the involvement of high‑profile talent to secure financing. By contrast, a game concept can be prototyped in a single morning, inserted into the engine, and instantly experienced.

“The immediacy of games is exhilarating—you can see your vision come to life the same day you think of it,” he explains. Wendschuh points out that while film production is heavily front‑loaded with intense, high‑stakes set work, games have a more distributed risk profile. “Anyone can pick up a camera and shoot a backyard movie, but without star power or distribution, it’s hard to break through.

In games, the barrier to entry is lower; you don’t need an A‑list actor or director to succeed,” he observes. Both founders agree that the core creative impulse—telling stories and delivering experiences—remains the same across mediums.

“When I was six, I wanted to make either movies or games. It boiled down to a coin toss and a Christmas camera,” Dietsch laughs. “Whether it’s film or interactive media, the goal is to engage an audience, share a narrative, and create something memorable.”