The trailer for Join Us first appeared during the Xbox Showcase in June, offering a glimpse of a darkly humorous cooperative cult simulator. In the clip, robed followers charge on pig‑mounted platforms, wielding machine guns before the scene shifts to a massive, Cthulhu‑like tangle of tentacles.
One element that didn’t make the final cut was the infamous “snake gun,” a quirky weapon that Joe Dietsch, the chief executive officer and creative director of Wolf Haus Games, says was born from a child’s imagination. According to Dietsch, a team member’s son asked, “What would a snake‑shooting gun look like?” Using an internal tool that allowed rapid weapon prototyping, Dietsch was able to construct a functional snake‑gun in roughly thirty minutes. The result impressed the youngster so much that the weapon stayed in the final build, illustrating the kind of off‑the‑wall gameplay players can expect from Join Us.
Join Us is an open‑world sandbox survival experience set in a 1970s‑style cult environment. Players can recruit AI followers or invite friends into co‑op sessions, building a bizarre, often chaotic community that reflects the developers’ love of grindhouse cinema and post‑apocalyptic storytelling. The game’s development philosophy mirrors this chaotic spirit: Wolf Haus relies heavily on custom tools and a technology‑first mindset, enabling a small crew to deliver a high‑fidelity title that would normally require a far larger staff.
Michael Abbott, the studio’s chief operating officer, describes the team’s ambition as “disruptive.” He explains that while most studios assume a hundred‑person roster is mandatory for a project of this scope, Wolf Haus set out to prove the opposite. “We told everyone we could do it with twelve people. Most people laughed and said it was impossible,” Abbott recalls.
Their confidence stems from a background in independent filmmaking, where crews often have to stretch limited budgets to achieve cinematic ambitions. After 80 pitch meetings, Wolf Haus finally secured equity financing from Krafton and Lifelike Capital, both of which took stakes in the company. The founders’ Hollywood pedigree runs deep.
Dietsch studied film at Chapman University alongside Louie Gibson, son of actor‑director Mel Gibson, and 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, a production house founded by Chris Roberts before his transition to the Star Citizen universe. Abbott later produced films such as Fight for ’84, starring Jamie Foxx.
This blend of cinematic experience and entrepreneurial grit gave the team a unique perspective on storytelling and production efficiency. The genesis of Join Us can be traced back to Dietsch’s early experiments in Unreal Engine.
He recalls that the engine’s free download model lowered the barrier to entry that had previously kept many aspiring developers from building their own games. By following YouTube tutorials, he crafted a series of small prototypes before committing to a larger vision: a doomsday cult simulator that fused survival mechanics with the aesthetic of grindhouse movies. The initial proof‑of‑concept was deliberately ambitious.
Dietsch expected to encounter a technical wall that would force him to abandon the idea, but when he presented the demo to Abbott, the latter saw potential and introduced it to Dooma, a partner studio. Dooma’s CFO and narrative director, Dooma Wendschuh, had previously worked as a producer and screenwriter in Hollywood before moving into games in the early 2000s. He founded Sekretagent Productions, providing narrative support for titles like Prince of Persia: The Two Thrones, Assassin’s Creed, and Batman: Arkham Origins. Later, Wendschuh built a cannabis‑formulation company, Ebbu, which sold for roughly C$430 million (about $330 million USD).
After selling Ebbu, Wendschuh bought a remote restaurant on a tiny Canadian island, intending to retire. However, a sudden call from his old Hollywood‑Hills roommate, Michael Abbott, pulled him back into the industry.
Abbott told him about a video game that Joe had created, and upon seeing the demo, Wendschuh was convinced to join the project. He then recruited Reid Schneider, a former Warner Bros.
Games vice‑president now heading the studio behind Journey to the Savage Planet, as a strategic advisor. Schneider brought on 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—a daunting task during a market downturn that began in 2023. The studio initially pitched the game in the summer of that year, receiving positive feedback but facing a skeptical investment climate.
After partnering with Creative Artists Agency (CAA) in Los Angeles, Wolf Haus returned to the pitch circuit in 2024 and eventually closed a seed round with Lifelike Capital and Krafton. Abbott credits CAA’s representation, which also handles titles like 007: First Light, for opening doors. Additionally, the presence of seasoned industry veterans such as Schneider and Chartrand added credibility that resonated with potential investors. “Derek Douglas, our agent at CAA, was also my agent when I was making games for twelve years,” says Wendschuh, noting Douglas’s former role as head of the video‑game department at William Morris Endeavor.
Despite the high‑profile backing, Join Us remains a lean operation with only thirteen full‑time staff members. Dietsch emphasizes that the small‑team structure is intentional: it ensures every employee has a voice, contributes creatively, and feels ownership over the final product.
To make such an ambitious open‑world experience feasible, the studio devoted a substantial portion of its first development year to building robust, scalable tools. “If a system exists in the game, it must be debuggable and extendable by a single person,” Dietsch explains. By investing heavily in a versatile toolkit early on, the team avoided the common pitfall of a project collapsing under its own complexity as features multiplied across the map. The financing model further supported this tooling‑first approach.
Because Krafton and Lifelike Capital are equity partners, the funds they injected were used directly to finance development, effectively making the game self‑funded. While a modest amount of project finance has been allocated for marketing, the core development budget remains entirely covered by the equity investors.
This arrangement aligns the investors’ interests with the studio’s long‑term value creation, encouraging them to back the time‑intensive practice of building custom tools whenever a technical obstacle arises. When asked about the role of generative AI, Dietsch gives a clear answer: none. The studio deliberately avoids AI‑generated assets, believing that a human touch is essential to the game’s identity.
"We love making games ourselves; handing the creative process over to an algorithm would defeat the purpose of why we get up every morning," he says. Wendschuh adds that the team only uses AI for administrative tasks like calendar management and email drafting, not for any artistic or design work. Krafton, despite branding itself as an “AI‑first” company, also insisted that Wolf Haus refrain from using generative AI in the creative pipeline. This stance mirrors that of Neon Giant, another Krafton‑owned studio that publicly distanced itself from the parent’s AI pivot.
Both companies appear committed to preserving human‑crafted content, especially in areas like voice acting and art, where AI could potentially displace creative professionals. Indeed, Join Us features a six‑kilometre‑square map that was hand‑crafted by the team, and the game contains roughly 15,000 voice lines recorded by real actors. Dietsch stresses that preserving this level of handcrafted detail was a non‑negotiable goal, even for an indie‑scale project.
Transitioning from film to games, Dietsch finds the immediacy of interactive media exhilarating. In cinema, an idea may take years to materialize, requiring approvals, casting, and extensive pre‑production before a director ever sees the finished product on set. By contrast, a game concept can be prototyped within hours, allowing developers to iterate instantly in the engine. This rapid feedback loop fuels creativity and keeps the development process dynamic.
Wendschuh notes that filmmaking is heavily front‑loaded, with massive logistical challenges before cameras even start rolling. Securing A‑list talent and studio green‑lights often determines a film’s fate before production begins. While anyone can technically shoot a movie with a consumer‑grade camera, achieving commercial success without marquee names or distribution deals is rare. Video games, however, face fewer gatekeepers; a small team can release a polished product directly to digital storefronts, reaching audiences without needing Hollywood‑level star power.
Both Dietsch and Wendschuh agree that the core motivation behind both mediums is storytelling—creating experiences that engage and move audiences. Dietsch recalls that as a child he was torn between making movies and making games, a decision ultimately decided by a Christmas gift of a camera.
He taught himself programming on a TI‑83 calculator, laying the groundwork for a career that now bridges both worlds. "Whether you’re making a film or a game, you’re delivering an experience, telling a story, and inviting the audience to participate," he concludes.