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 machine guns, and eventually confront colossal, Cthulhu‑like tentacles. One detail that didn’t make the final cut was the infamous "snake gun," a weapon that originated from an off‑hand suggestion by a team member’s child. Joe Dietsch, the CEO and creative director of Wolf Haus Games, recounted the moment: “A kid asked if we could make a gun that shoots snakes. Because we have a rapid‑scaling tool, I was able to prototype it in about thirty minutes.
The kid was thrilled, and the snake gun stayed in the game.” That anecdote captures the chaotic, improvisational spirit at the heart of 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 allowed a tiny team to produce a visually rich, ambitious experience. Michael Abbott, Wolf Haus’s chief operating officer, summed up their philosophy: “We set out to be disruptors.
Everyone told us a twelve‑person crew couldn’t deliver a AAA‑level game, but we knew from indie filmmaking that a small, focused group can punch far above its weight.” The Wolf Haus founders bring deep Hollywood credentials to the table. Dietsch studied film at Chapman University alongside Louie Gibson, the son of Mel Gibson, who later co‑founded the studio.
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 originally founded by Chris Roberts before his shift to Star Citizen.
Abbott later produced movies 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 with YouTube tutorials," Dietsch explained. "I’d always loved games, but the perceived barrier to creating something felt huge. By diving in, I built a few tiny prototypes and eventually gravitated toward a doomsday cult simulator—a mash‑up of survival mechanics, grindhouse cinema, and my own storytelling interests." The initial proof‑of‑concept was deliberately limited: Dietsch pushed the engine as far as he could, expecting to hit a technical wall.
When he showed the demo to Abbott, the latter recognized its potential and presented it to Dooma, a partner that helped secure early backing. The studio’s financial architect, Dooma Wendschuh, transitioned from a career in film production and screenwriting to video‑game narrative direction. He founded Sekretagent Productions, providing writing services for titles like Prince of Persia: The Two Thrones, Assassin’s Creed, and Batman: Arkham Origins, before launching several tech ventures, including the cannabis formulation company Ebbu, which sold for roughly C$430 million.
After selling Ebbu, Wendschuh bought a remote island restaurant in Canada, intending to retire. A chance call from his old Hollywood Hills roommate, Michael Abbott, changed those plans.
"He told me a friend had built a video game. I watched the demo, and it blew my mind—so I came out of retirement," Wendschuh said. He then introduced the project to Reid Schneider, a former Warner Bros.
Games VP now heading Raccoon Logic, and recruited Pierre‑Olivier Chartrand, an ex‑Ubisoft Montreal programmer, as chief technology officer. Funding proved challenging amid a market downturn in 2023‑24. The team pitched over 80 times before securing equity investment from Krafton and Lifelike Capital. Their representation by CAA (Creative Artists Agency) and the involvement of seasoned industry veterans helped open doors.
"Having Derek Douglas, who’d been my agent during my twelve years in games, on board was invaluable," Wendschuh noted. Despite the high ambitions, the studio remains lean—thirteen full‑time staff members. This small‑team approach is intentional: "We wanted everyone to have a voice, to touch the creative process, and to feel ownership of the final product," Dietsch said.
To make such a scope feasible, the first year of development was split between designing gameplay concepts and building robust internal tools. "Every system must be scalable and debuggable by a single person," Dietsch explained.
"Investing in a versatile toolkit prevents the project from collapsing as features spread across the open world." The equity funding model gave Wolf Haus the runway to perfect these tools. Krafton and Lifelike’s capital financed the entire development, with only a modest portion of later financing earmarked for marketing.
"Our investors care about enterprise value, so they encourage us to build reusable tools," Wendschuh said. "When we encounter a problem we can’t solve, we simply create a tool to address it. It may slow us down short‑term, but it enables a tiny team to achieve something massive." When asked about generative AI, the studio’s stance is clear: they avoid it for creative work.
"We believe a human touch is essential. Using AI to generate content would undermine why we get up every morning," Dietsch affirmed. Wendschuh added that the team only uses AI for administrative tasks like calendar management and email drafting. Interestingly, Krafton—publicly positioning itself as an "AI‑first" company—specifically required Wolf Haus to refrain from AI‑generated assets, mirroring a similar stance taken by Neon Giant, another Krafton‑owned studio.
All of Join Us’s assets are handcrafted. The six‑kilometre‑square map was built tile by tile by artists, and the game features roughly 15,000 voice lines recorded by human actors.
"Even as an indie project, we felt it was crucial to keep the experience fully human," Dietsch emphasized. Dietsch also reflected on the differences between film and game creation. 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 and iterated directly in the engine. "You can have an idea this morning, drop it into Unreal, and see it instantly," he said. Wendschuh agreed, noting that while film production is heavily front‑loaded with securing directors and stars, games have far fewer gatekeepers. "You don’t need an A‑list actor or director to make a successful game; the barriers to entry are lower, which democratizes the medium." Both founders trace their passion back to childhood.
"I wanted to make movies or games at six, and a coin toss decided which path I’d follow," Dietsch recalled, adding that he learned programming on a TI‑83 calculator. He believes the core creative impulse—crafting experiences, telling stories, and engaging audiences—remains the same across both mediums, even if the tools and timelines differ. Join Us thus stands as a testament to what a small, Hollywood‑savvy, tech‑focused team can achieve without relying on generative AI.
By leveraging deep industry connections, a strong emphasis on in‑house tooling, and a commitment to handcrafted content, Wolf Haus is set to deliver a cult‑simulator that feels both grand in scale and intimate in execution.