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 ride on pigs, unleash a barrage of machine‑gun fire, and the sequence culminates with a massive, Cthulhu‑like tentacle looming on the horizon.
What didn’t make the final cut, according to Joe Dietsch—CEO and creative director of Wolf Haus Games—was the now‑infamous snake gun. "One of the team members’ kids asked, ‘What would a snake‑shooting gun look like?’" Dietsch recalls. "Because we had built a flexible weapon system, I could prototype a snake‑gun in roughly thirty minutes. Seeing his face light up was unforgettable, and we kept the weapon in the game." That anecdote captures the chaotic, over‑the‑top gameplay that Join Us promises: an open‑world sandbox where players can recruit followers—or invite friends in co‑op mode—to join a 1970s‑style doomsday cult.
More importantly, it illustrates the studio’s technology‑first philosophy, which has enabled a high‑fidelity, large‑scale title to be produced by a remarkably small crew. Michael Abbott, Wolf Haus’s chief operating officer, summed it up succinctly: “We set out to be disruptors.
We told everyone we could build a AAA‑ish experience with just twelve people. Most people laughed.” The team’s confidence stems from a background in indie filmmaking, where working with limited budgets is the norm. “We grew up on indie sets, learning to punch far above our weight,” Abbott says. After 80 pitch meetings, Wolf Haus finally secured equity financing from Krafton and Lifelike Capital, both of which took minority stakes in the studio.
Wolf Haus’s founders are steeped in Hollywood history. Dietsch studied film at Chapman University alongside Louie Gibson, son of Mel Gibson, who now co‑founders the studio. 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, the production company founded by Chris Roberts before his transition to the Star Citizen universe.
Abbott later produced films such as Fight for ’84, starring Jamie Foxx. The seed of Join Us was planted when Dietsch began experimenting with Unreal Engine. "Unreal was free to download, and I’d always loved games but felt blocked by the high entry barrier for creating something myself," he explains.
He taught himself through YouTube tutorials, built a few modest prototypes, and eventually gravitated toward a doomsday cult simulator—a concept that merged his love of survival mechanics with grindhouse cinema aesthetics. He crafted a proof‑of‑concept demo, assuming it would eventually hit a technical wall. When he showed the demo to Abbott, the latter recognized its potential and introduced it to Dooma, the studio’s early‑stage investor.
Dooma’s CFO and narrative director, Dooma Wendschuh, had previously produced and written for major film franchises before moving into games in the early 2000s. He founded Sekretagent Productions, providing narrative services for titles like Prince of Persia: The Two Thrones, Assassin’s Creed, and Batman: Arkham Origins. Later, he launched several tech ventures, including the cannabis formulation company Ebbu, which sold for roughly C$430 million.
After cashing out, Wendschuh bought a remote island restaurant in Canada, planning a quiet retirement. Yet a call from his old Hollywood‑hills roommate, Michael Abbott, changed his plans.
"He said a friend had made a video game and wanted my opinion. I saw the demo and it blew my mind, pulling me back into development," Wendschuh recounts. He then brought on Reid Schneider, former Warner Bros. Games VP and current head of Raccoon Logic, as a strategic advisor, and recruited Pierre‑Olivier Chartrand, a former Ubisoft Montreal programmer, as chief technology officer.
With the core team in place, the next hurdle was financing, which proved difficult amid an industry downturn in 2023. Initial pitches generated interest but not commitments.
After partnering with Creative Artists Agency (CAA) and re‑pitching in 2024, Wolf Haus finally closed a seed round with Lifelike Capital and Krafton. Wendschuh credits CAA’s representation—also handling titles like 007: First Light—and the presence of seasoned veterans like Schneider and Chartrand for opening doors.
Despite the pedigree, Join Us is being built by only 13 full‑time staff members. Dietsch emphasizes that the small‑team model is intentional: "We wanted everyone to have a voice, to touch the creative process, and to feel ownership of the final product." Achieving such ambition required a massive upfront investment in tooling.
"Any system we create must be scalable and debuggable by a single developer," Dietsch notes. The studio spent the first year simultaneously designing gameplay concepts and engineering the internal toolset that would allow those concepts to scale across a six‑kilometre‑square open world without collapsing under its own weight.
This tooling philosophy extends to future projects; the same pipeline can be repurposed for new games. Funding from Krafton and Lifelike has been used primarily to finance development, keeping the project essentially self‑funded. The studio has begun modest project‑finance arrangements for marketing, but the core development budget remains equity‑driven.
This structure aligns investor incentives with the studio’s long‑term value creation, encouraging the continued building of proprietary tools even when they slow short‑term progress. When asked about the role of generative AI—a hot topic in game development—Dietsch gave a clear answer: the studio does not employ AI for creative work.
"We believe a human touch is essential. Using an AI to generate assets would defeat the purpose of why we love making games," he says. Wendschuh adds that while they may use AI for administrative tasks like calendar management, it never touches the artistic side. Krafton, despite branding itself as an "AI‑first" company, explicitly required Wolf Haus to avoid generative AI in the creative pipeline, mirroring a similar stance taken by Krafton‑owned Neon Giant.
The team’s commitment to handcrafted content is evident in the game’s massive map—entirely hand‑sculpted—and its 15,000 voice lines, all recorded by human actors. "Even as a small indie, we felt it was crucial to preserve that human element," Dietsch explains. Dietsch also reflects on the differences between film and games.
In cinema, an idea can take years to materialize, requiring approvals, casting, and studio greenlights. In contrast, a game idea can be prototyped within hours and tested instantly in the engine, offering a level of immediacy he finds exhilarating. Wendschuh observes that film production is heavily front‑loaded, with massive coordination needed before shooting even begins, whereas games have fewer gatekeepers. "You don’t need an A‑list actor or director to make a successful game; the barriers are lower," he says.
Both mediums, however, share a common creative impulse: storytelling and delivering an experience. Dietsch’s childhood dream of either making movies or games boiled down to a coin toss and a Christmas camera. He learned programming on a TI‑83 calculator, and that dual passion has guided his career. "Whether you’re making a film or a game, you’re trying to tell a story, engage an audience, and create an experience.
The tools change, but the goal stays the same," he concludes.