The trailer for Join Us first appeared during the Xbox Showcase in June, offering a glimpse of a darkly humorous cooperative cult simulation. In the clip, robed followers charge on pig‑mounted platforms, firing machine guns before the scene cuts to colossal, Cthulhu‑like tentacles. What the audience didn’t see was the infamous snake gun, a quirky weapon that CEO and creative director Joe Dietsch says originated from a child’s off‑hand suggestion.
"One of our team member’s son asked, ‘What would a snake gun look like?’ We had a rapid‑prototyping tool for firearms, so within half an hour I built a gun that actually shoots snakes. It blew his mind and it stayed in the final build," Dietsch recalls.
That anecdote captures the chaotic, sandbox‑style gameplay at the heart of Join Us. Players can build a 1970s‑style cult, recruit followers—or friends in co‑op mode— and survive an open‑world environment that encourages both strategic planning and absurdist fun.
The game’s design philosophy also mirrors the studio’s broader approach: a technology‑first mindset that enables a high‑fidelity experience to be delivered by a remarkably small team. Michael Abbott, Wolf Haus’s chief operating officer, summed it up succinctly: "We set out to be disruptors. While everyone assumed you needed a hundred‑person roster, we believed twelve could do the job. People laughed, but we proved them wrong." Wolf Haus’s founders bring a rich Hollywood pedigree to the table.
Dietsch studied film at Chapman University alongside 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 veteran makeup artist Larry Abbott and helped launch Ascendant Pictures, the production company founded by Chris Roberts before his transition to Star Citizen. Abbott’s résumé also includes producing credits on titles such as Fight for ’84 starring Jamie Foxx. This cinematic background informs the studio’s narrative sensibilities and its willingness to take bold creative risks.
The seed of Join Us sprouted when Dietsch began tinkering with Unreal Engine, attracted by its free download model. "I’d loved games for as long as I’d watched movies, but the barrier to actually creating something felt insurmountable. I downloaded Unreal, followed YouTube tutorials, and started experimenting," he explains.
After crafting a few modest prototypes, Dietsch returned to a concept that had lingered in his mind: a doomsday cult simulator that blended survival mechanics with grindhouse cinema aesthetics. He built a proof‑of‑concept demo, showed it to Abbott, and the duo set the project in motion. The studio’s financial journey was anything but smooth. After 80 pitches, Wolf Haus finally secured equity investment from Kraftor and Lifelike Capital, each taking a stake in the company.
The founders’ film‑industry experience—where small teams often punch far above their weight—gave them confidence to persevere despite the industry downturn of 2023‑24. Their pitch deck highlighted a vision of a large‑scale, high‑detail game built by a lean crew, a premise that eventually resonated with investors seeking innovative, low‑overhead projects. Key hires bolstered the team’s capabilities.
Dooma Wendschuh, the studio’s chief financial officer and narrative director, transitioned from a film‑writing career—penning scripts for Prince of Persia: The Two Thrones, Assassin’s Creed, and Batman: Arkham Origins—to video‑game production in the early 2000s. He later founded several tech ventures, most notably the cannabis formulation company Ebbu, which sold for C$430 million.
After a brief retirement on a remote Canadian island, a call from former roommate Michael Abbott lured him back into game development, impressed by the prototype’s originality. Wendschuh recruited Reid Schneider, a former Warner Bros. Games vice‑president now heading Raccoon Logic, as a strategic advisor.
Schneider then brought in Pierre‑Olivier Chartrand, an ex‑Ubisoft Montreal programmer, to serve as chief technology officer. Together, they formed a core group of thirteen full‑time staff members, each wearing multiple hats to keep the operation agile. A cornerstone of Wolf Haus’s success is its heavy investment in custom tooling.
"Any system we build must be scalable and debuggable by a single person," says Dietsch. Early in development, the team devoted a significant portion of the first year to constructing a robust pipeline that would allow features to expand across the open‑world map without causing the project to collapse under its own weight.
This tool‑centric ethos extends beyond Join Us; the studio intends to reuse the same infrastructure for future titles, turning the initial overhead into a long‑term asset. Funding from Krafton and Lifelike Capital has been structured as equity, allowing the studio to self‑finance the bulk of development. "The investors are motivated to increase the studio’s enterprise value, so they support our tool‑building philosophy," Wendschuh notes.
While a modest amount of project finance is earmarked for marketing, the core development budget remains fully covered by the equity partners. This model gives Wolf Haus the freedom to iterate without the pressure of short‑term revenue milestones. In an era where generative AI is touted as a shortcut for content creation, Wolf Haus deliberately steers clear of it for artistic tasks. "We believe a human touch is essential to game design.
Using AI to replace creative decisions would defeat the purpose of why we get up in the morning," Dietsch asserts. Wendschuh adds that the studio’s AI subscriptions are limited to administrative functions like calendar management and email drafting, not to any aspect of game design or asset creation. Krafton, despite branding itself as an "AI‑first" company, shared Wolf Haus’s stance, insisting that the studio not employ generative AI in the creative pipeline.
This mirrors the approach of Neon Giant, another Krafton‑owned studio that publicly denied involvement in Krafton’s AI pivot. Both companies appear to recognize the potential backlash from creative communities concerned about job displacement for voice actors, artists, and writers.
Indeed, Join Us boasts a fully handcrafted six‑kilometre‑square map and 15,000 voice lines recorded by human actors—an impressive feat for an indie‑scale operation. Dietsch emphasizes that preserving this level of artisanal craftsmanship was a non‑negotiable goal, even as the team leveraged procedural tools for technical efficiency. The transition from film to games also offers Dietsch a different kind of immediacy. In cinema, a concept can take years to materialize, often waiting on high‑profile talent and studio greenlights.
In contrast, a game idea can be prototyped within hours and tested directly in the engine, providing instant feedback and creative satisfaction. Wendschuh observes that film production is heavily front‑loaded, with extensive pre‑production negotiations required to secure A‑list talent and studio backing. While anyone can shoot a backyard movie, breaking into the market without star power is rare. Game development, however, presents fewer gatekeepers, allowing smaller teams to reach audiences without marquee names.
Both mediums, though, share a fundamental purpose: delivering an experience, telling a story, and engaging an audience. Dietsch reflects on his childhood ambition to create either games or movies, noting that a simple coin toss and a Christmas camera set him on this dual path. Whether through film or interactive entertainment, the goal remains the same—crafting narratives that resonate and captivate.
The journey of Wolf Haus illustrates how a blend of Hollywood heritage, savvy tech development, and a refusal to rely on generative AI can produce a bold, large‑scale game with a tiny, passionate team.