You may remember the Join Us trailer that debuted during the Xbox Showcase in June. The clip introduced a darkly humorous co‑op cult simulator where robed followers zip around on pigs, unleash machine‑guns, 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 Join Us—was the infamous snake gun.
"One of the developers’ kids suggested a snake‑shooting weapon," Dietsch recounts. "We had a modular gun system, so in about thirty minutes I built a prototype that fires snakes.
The kid went nuts, and we kept it in the final build." That anecdote captures the chaotic, over‑the‑top gameplay that Join Us promises: an open‑world sandbox survival experience where players can recruit followers—or friends in co‑op mode—to build a 1970s‑style cult empire. It also illustrates the studio’s tech‑first philosophy, which has enabled a high‑fidelity, content‑rich title to be assembled by a surprisingly tiny team. Michael Abbott, Wolf Haus’s chief operating officer, summed it up: “We set out to be disruptors.” "We told everyone, ‘We don’t need a hundred‑person studio; twelve talented people can do it.’ Most people laughed and called us delusional," Abbott says.
"But we come from indie film backgrounds where we’ve learned to punch far above our weight. After 80 pitches we finally secured equity funding from Krafton and Lifelike Capital." 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 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 he turned 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.
"Unreal was free to download, and I’d always loved games but felt the barrier to creation was huge," Dietsch explains. "I started watching YouTube tutorials and tinkering. After a few small prototypes I decided to chase a bigger idea: a doomsday cult simulator that blends survival mechanics with grindhouse cinema aesthetics." He built a proof‑of‑concept, expecting to hit a technical wall at some point.
When he showed the demo to Abbott, the latter immediately took it to Dooma, a partner studio. Dooma’s CFO and narrative director, Dooma Wendschuh, had a film background—producing and writing before moving into games in the early 2000s with Sekretagent Productions, which supplied narrative work for titles like Prince of Persia: The Two Thrones, Assassin’s Creed, and Batman: Arkham Origins. Wendschuh later founded several tech ventures, most notably 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.
Yet, as Hollywood lore would have it, an old roommate, Michael Abbott, called him out of the blue about a video‑game project. "I watched the demo, it blew my mind, and I came out of retirement," Wendschuh says.
He introduced the game to Reid Schneider, former VP at Warner Bros. Games and now head of Raccoon Logic, who became a strategic advisor and recruited Pierre‑Olivier Chartrand, a former Ubisoft Montreal programmer, as CTO. With a core team forming, the next hurdle was financing—a difficult task during the industry downturn of 2023‑24. The studio pitched relentlessly, eventually partnering with CAA in Los Angeles, which helped open doors to investors.
Their seed round closed with Lifelike Capital and Krafton taking equity stakes. "Having CAA, which also represents titles like 007: First Light, added credibility," notes Wendschuh. "Our agents had long‑standing relationships with game veterans, which eased the process." Despite the high‑profile backing, Wolf Haus kept the staff count at thirteen full‑time members. Dietsch emphasizes that a small crew fosters a collaborative atmosphere where everyone can influence creative decisions.
To make a large‑scale open world feasible for such a lean team, the studio invested heavily in custom tooling early on. "Every system must be scalable and debuggable by a single person," he says. "We built a toolkit that lets us expand features across a six‑kilometre‑square map without the project collapsing under its own weight.
The first year was as much about building those tools as it was about designing the game itself." The equity funding model gave the studio the runway to perfect those tools. "Krafton and Lifelike’s money financed the entire development, so the game is essentially self‑funded," explains Wendschuh.
"We’re now only seeking a modest amount of project finance for marketing. The investors’ equity stake aligns their interests with ours: they want us to create long‑term value, which means building reusable tools and infrastructure." When asked about generative AI, the team is unequivocal: they avoid it in the creative pipeline. "We believe a human touch is essential for games.
Using AI to generate core content would defeat why we get up every morning," Dietsch asserts. Wendschuh adds that the only AI they employ is for mundane tasks like calendar management and email drafting. Interestingly, Krafton—publicly branding itself as an “AI‑first” company—insisted that Wolf Haus not use generative AI for creative work, mirroring a similar stance taken by Neon Giant, another Krafton‑owned studio. The commitment to handcrafted content extends to the game's massive map and its 15,000 voice lines, all recorded by human actors.
"That was non‑negotiable for us," says Dietsch. "Even as a small indie, we wanted every line to feel authentic." Dietsch also notes the immediacy of game development compared with film. In cinema, an idea can take years to materialize, requiring countless approvals and the involvement of high‑profile talent. In games, an inspiration can be prototyped within hours and tested directly in the engine.
"You can have a concept in the morning, drop it into Unreal, and see it instantly," he says, describing the thrill that drives his team. Wendschuh observes that film production is heavily front‑loaded: securing a director, A‑list actors, and studio approval before cameras roll.
While anyone can shoot a backyard movie, breaking through without star power or distribution is rare. By contrast, the game industry has far fewer gatekeepers, making it easier for a small, passionate team to reach a global audience without celebrity backing. Both founders agree that whether you’re making a movie or a game, the core mission is the same: to craft an experience, tell a story, and engage an audience.
"When I was six, I wanted to make either movies or games; it came down to a coin toss and a Christmas camera," Dietsch reflects. "Programming on a TI‑83 sparked a lifelong love for creation. In the end, the medium changes, but the desire to move people remains constant."