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 zip around on pigs, unleash a hail of machine‑gun fire, and the sequence culminates with an ominous image of colossal, Cthulhu‑like tentacles. What the audience didn’t see was the infamous snake gun, a quirky weapon that has become a hallmark of the game. According to Joe Dietsch, the CEO and creative director of Wolf Haus Games, the snake gun was born from a simple suggestion by a team member’s child.
“His son asked, ‘What would a snake‑shooting gun look like?’ We have a rapid‑prototyping tool, so within half an hour I built a gun that fires snakes. The kid went nuts, and the weapon stayed in the final build,” Dietsch recalls. That anecdote captures the chaotic, improvisational spirit that defines Join Us. The title is an open‑world sandbox survival experience where players can recruit followers—or invite friends in co‑op mode—to build a 1970s‑style cult.
The game’s design philosophy mirrors the studio’s broader approach: lean, tool‑centric, and deliberately disruptive. Michael Abbott, Wolf Haus’s chief operating officer, summed it up: “We set out to prove that a twelve‑person team could deliver a high‑fidelity, large‑scale title. Everyone told us it was impossible.” The founders’ confidence stems from a history of punching far above their weight. Many of them cut their teeth in independent cinema, where modest budgets demand creative problem‑solving.
“We grew up making indie films, so we’re used to doing a lot with very little,” Abbott explains. After a grueling 80‑pitch marathon, the studio finally secured equity investment from Krafton and Lifelike Capital, giving Wolf Haus the financial runway it needed.
Wolf Haus’s leadership team is steeped in Hollywood pedigree. Dietsch studied film at Chapman University alongside Louie Gibson, son of Mel Gibson, who later co‑founded the studio.
The two co‑wrote and co‑directed the indie features Happy Hunting and Manifest West. Abbott, meanwhile, 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 his attention to Star Citizen. Abbott’s résumé also includes a producer credit on the Jamie Foxx‑led action film Fight for ’84. The genesis of Join Us traces back to Dietsch’s early experiments with Unreal Engine.
“Unreal was free to download, and I’d been a gamer my whole life. The biggest barrier was the perception that you needed a massive team to make something,” he says.
He taught himself the engine through YouTube tutorials, built a handful of tiny prototypes, and eventually settled on a doomsday‑cult concept that blended survival mechanics with grindhouse cinema aesthetics. The initial proof‑of‑concept was intentionally ambitious; Dietsch expected to hit technical walls early on. When he presented the demo to Abbott, the latter immediately took it to Dooma, the studio’s early‑stage partner.
Dooma Wendschuh, Wolf Haus’s chief financial officer and narrative director, entered the picture after a varied career in film and gaming. He began as a producer and screenwriter, then founded Sekretagent Productions, a writing house that contributed narrative content to titles such as Prince of Persia: The Two Thrones, Assassin’s Creed, and Batman: Arkham Origins.
In the 2010s he pivoted to tech entrepreneurship, launching the cannabis‑formulation company Ebbu, which later sold for roughly C$430 million (US$330 million). After the sale, Wendschuh bought a remote island restaurant in Canada, intending to retire. However, a call from his old Hollywood‑Hills roommate, Michael Abbott, lured him back into game development.
He was shown Dietsch’s early demo and was instantly captivated. Wendschuh recruited former Warner Bros. Games VP Reid Schneider as a strategic advisor and brought on Pierre‑Olivier Chartrand, a veteran programmer from Ubisoft Montreal, to serve as chief technology officer. With the core leadership in place, the studio turned its focus to financing.
The first pitch round began in the summer of 2023, a period marked by a broader industry downturn. “People liked what we were showing, but the market was tight,” Dietsch notes. The team partnered with CAA in Los Angeles, refined their pitch deck, and continued presenting throughout 2024. Their perseverance paid off when Lifelike Capital and Krafton each took an equity stake, providing the seed capital needed to move forward.
The involvement of CAA proved instrumental. Their agent Derek Douglas, who had represented Wendschuh during his decade‑long gaming career, also headed the video‑game division at William Morris, bringing valuable connections and credibility. This network, combined with the expertise of Schneider and Chartrand, helped the studio secure the investment despite the modest headcount.
Today, Wolf Haus operates with just 13 full‑time staff members. Dietsch emphasizes that the small size is intentional: “We wanted a tight‑knit group where everyone has a voice and can directly influence the creative direction.” To make a sprawling open‑world title feasible with such a lean crew, the studio invested heavily in custom tooling from day one.
“Any system we build must be scalable and debuggable by a single developer,” Dietsch explains. The first year of development was split evenly between designing gameplay concepts and engineering the pipelines that would sustain them. This tool‑first mindset not only prevents the project from collapsing under its own weight but also lays the groundwork for future Wolf Haus titles. Funding from Krafton and Lifelike has allowed the studio to self‑finance the game’s development, with only a modest amount of project finance earmarked for marketing.
Because the investors hold equity, they are aligned with Wolf Haus’s long‑term goal of building valuable IP rather than chasing short‑term revenue. This alignment gives the team the freedom to pause and build a new tool whenever they encounter an unsolvable problem, even if it slows immediate progress. When asked about the role of generative AI, Dietsch is unequivocal: the studio does not employ AI for any creative tasks. “We believe a game should retain a human touch.
Automating design or art would undermine why we get up every morning to make games,” he says. Wendschuh adds that the only AI services they use are mundane productivity tools for calendar management and email drafting.
Krafton, despite branding itself as an “AI‑first” company, specifically required that Wolf Haus avoid generative AI in the creative pipeline, mirroring a similar stance taken by Neon Giant, another Krafton‑owned studio. The commitment to handcrafted content extends to the game’s world and audio.
The six‑kilometer‑square map in Join Us was built entirely by hand, and the title features roughly 15,000 voice lines recorded by human actors. “Those decisions were non‑negotiable for us,” Wendschuh states, noting that they wanted to protect jobs for voice talent and artists. Dietsch reflects on the contrast between film and game creation.
In cinema, a concept can take years to materialize, often requiring the approval of high‑profile directors and actors before a studio greenlights production. By contrast, a game idea can be prototyped within hours, allowing creators to iterate rapidly without gatekeepers. “You don’t need an A‑list star or director to make a successful game,” he says, highlighting the democratizing power of interactive media. Both mediums, however, share a common purpose: to deliver an experience, tell a story, and engage an audience.
Dietsch’s childhood fascination with both movies and video games has come full circle, proving that a small, determined team with the right tools, industry connections, and a clear creative vision can build a massive, high‑quality game without relying on generative AI or a sprawling staff.