You may remember seeing the trailer for Join Us during the Xbox Showcase in June. The clip introduced a darkly humorous cooperative cult simulator, featuring robed followers riding pigs and firing machine guns, before cutting to an image of massive, Cthulhu‑like tentacles. What didn’t appear in that teaser was the infamous snake‑gun, a weapon that Joe Dietsch—CEO and creative director of Wolf Haus Games—attributes to a spontaneous idea from a team member’s child.
"His son asked, ‘What would a snake gun look like?’" Dietsch recalls. "Because we had a rapid‑prototyping tool for weapons, I was able to assemble a snake‑shooting gun in roughly thirty minutes. The kid was thrilled, and the weapon stayed in the final build." That anecdote captures the chaotic, improvisational spirit that defines Join Us, an open‑world sandbox survival game where players can recruit followers—or friends in co‑op mode—to join a retro‑70s cult.
It also highlights the studio’s technology‑first philosophy, which has allowed a small crew to produce a high‑fidelity title that would normally require a much larger staff. "We set out to be disruptors," says Michael Abbott, Wolf Haus’s chief operating officer.
"Everyone told us it was impossible to build a game of this scope with just twelve people. We came from indie‑film backgrounds where we learned to punch far above our weight, so we knew we could make it happen." After 80 pitches, the team finally secured equity investment from Krafton and Lifelike Capital, giving Wolf Haus the runway needed to finish the project. The founders bring deep Hollywood connections to the table. Dietsch studied film at Chapman University alongside Louie Gibson, son of actor Mel Gibson, and the two 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 he turned his attention to Star Citizen. Abbott later produced movies such as Fight for ’84 starring Jamie Foxx. Join Us began as a tinkering project in Unreal Engine.
"I discovered that Unreal was free to download and started learning from YouTube tutorials," Dietsch explains. "I’d loved games for years, but the barrier to actually creating something felt huge. Once I had the engine, I began experimenting, eventually making a few small prototypes before deciding to aim bigger." The core concept—a doomsday cult simulator that blends survival mechanics with grindhouse cinema aesthetics—kept resurfacing for Dietsch.
He built a proof‑of‑concept demo, expecting to hit a technical wall at some point. When he showed the demo to Abbott, the latter recognized its potential and brought it to Dooma, the studio that would later become Wolf Haus. Dooma Wendschuh, Wolf Haus’s CFO and narrative director, started his career as a film producer and screenwriter before moving into games in the early 2000s. He founded Sekretagent Productions, providing writing services for titles like Prince of Persia: The Two Thrones, Assassin’s Creed, and Batman: Arkham Origins.
In the 2010s he launched several tech ventures, including the cannabis‑formulation company Ebbu, which sold for C$430 million (about $330 million USD). After selling Ebbu, he bought a remote restaurant on a tiny Canadian island, intending to retire. "I was ready for beach days and dog walks," Wendschuh says, "when an old roommate from Hollywood Hills—Michael Abbott—called out of the blue. He told me a friend had made a video game and wanted my opinion.
I watched Joe’s demo, it blew my mind, and I came out of retirement." He then introduced the project to Reid Schneider, former VP at Warner Bros. Games and now head of Raccoon Logic, the studio behind 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 assembled, the next hurdle was financing, a difficult task during the industry downturn of 2023‑24. The studio pitched relentlessly, eventually partnering with CAA (Creative Artists Agency) in Los Angeles, which helped them secure a seed round from Lifelike Capital and Krafton. "Having CAA on our side, along with veterans like Schneider and Chartrand, gave us credibility," notes Wendschuh.
Despite the high‑profile backing, Wolf Haus kept its development crew tiny—just 13 full‑time staff members. "We wanted every person to have a voice and to touch every creative decision," says Dietsch. To make such an ambitious open‑world feasible with a small team, they invested heavily in custom tooling early on. "Each system must be scalable and debuggable by a single developer," Dietsch explains.
"We built a robust toolkit so that as features spread across the six‑kilometre‑square map, the project wouldn’t collapse under its own weight." The equity funding model gave the studio the breathing room to perfect these tools. "Krafton and Lifelike invested directly into the company, and we used that capital to self‑fund the game," Wendschuh says. "We’re now adding a modest amount of project finance for marketing, but the core development was fully covered by our equity partners." This arrangement aligns investor incentives with the studio’s long‑term value creation, encouraging the team to keep building reusable tools rather than taking shortcuts.
When asked about generative AI—a hot topic in game development—Dietsch gives a clear answer: none of it is used in the creative pipeline. "We believe a game needs a human touch.
Relying on AI to generate assets would defeat the reason we get up every morning," he says. Wendschuh adds that the studio only uses AI for mundane tasks like calendar management and email drafting, not for art, design, or narrative work.
Even Krafton, which has branded itself an "AI‑first" company, insisted that Wolf Haus stay clear of generative AI for creative purposes. "Our investors wanted assurance that the studio wasn’t using AI to replace human creators," Wendschuh notes, echoing similar statements from Neon Giant, another Krafton‑owned studio. The team is committed to preserving jobs for voice actors and artists; all 15,000 voice lines in Join Us were recorded by human performers, and the entire map was handcrafted.
Dietsch reflects on the contrast between film and game creation. In cinema, an idea can take years to materialize, requiring countless approvals and the involvement of high‑profile talent before a studio greenlights production. In games, the barrier to entry is lower, allowing a small team to prototype and iterate rapidly.
"You can have an idea at breakfast and see it in the engine by lunch," he says, emphasizing the immediacy that fuels his passion. Wendschuh agrees, noting that film production is front‑loaded with intense, high‑stakes work on set, while games allow for more distributed, iterative development. "Anyone can pick up a camera and shoot a backyard movie, but without star power or distribution, it’s unlikely to break out.
With games, the gatekeepers are fewer, so a small indie can reach a global audience more easily," he explains. Both founders trace their love of storytelling back to childhood.
"When I was six, I wanted to make either movies or games—it came down to a coin toss and whether I got a camera for Christmas," Dietsch laughs. He taught himself programming on a TI‑83 calculator, blending technical curiosity with narrative ambition.
"Whether you’re making a film or a game, you’re delivering an experience, telling a story, and engaging an audience. The medium changes, but the core creative drive stays the same."