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‑back while wielding machine guns, and the sequence culminates with an image of enormous, Cthulhu‑like tentacles. One detail that didn’t make the final edit was the infamous snake‑gun, a weapon that Joe Dietsch, the CEO and creative director of Wolf Haus Games, says was born from a child’s off‑hand suggestion.
"My team member’s son asked, ‘What would a snake‑gun look like?’ We had a modular weapon system that let us prototype a new gun in roughly thirty minutes, so I built a snake‑shooting firearm on the spot. The kid went wild, and we kept it in the game," Dietsch recalls.
That anecdote encapsulates the chaotic, improvisational spirit that defines Join Us, an open‑world sandbox where players can recruit followers—or invite friends in co‑op—to build a 1970s‑style cult empire. It also 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, describes the team’s ambition as deliberately disruptive. "We told ourselves, ‘We don’t need a hundred‑person studio; twelve people can do this.’ Everyone else thought we were crazy," he says.
Their confidence stems from a background in indie filmmaking, where limited budgets demand creative shortcuts. "We’re used to punching well above our weight," Abbott adds. After a marathon of 80 pitches, the studio finally secured equity funding from Krafton and Lifelike Capital, both of which took a stake in Wolf Haus.
The founders’ Hollywood pedigree runs deep. Dietsch studied film at Chapman University alongside Louie Gibson, son of actor 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 later produced films such as Fight for ’84, starring Jamie Foxx.
Join Us originated when Dietsch began tinkering with Unreal Engine purely out of curiosity. "Unreal Engine is free to download, and I’d always loved games but felt there was a massive barrier to actually creating something," he explains. He taught himself through YouTube tutorials, built a few small prototypes, and eventually settled on the idea of a doomsday cult simulator—a blend of survival mechanics and grindhouse cinema that merged his two passions. 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 immediately took it to Dooma, a partner studio. Dooma’s CFO and narrative director, Dooma Wendschuh, had previously worked as a film producer and screenwriter before moving into games in the early 2000s, providing writing services for titles like Prince of Persia: The Two Thrones, Assassin’s Creed, and Batman: Arkham Origins.
Wendschuh later founded several tech ventures, including the cannabis‑formulation company Ebbu, which sold for roughly C$430 million. After selling Ebbu, Wendschuh bought a remote island restaurant in Canada, intending to retire. Yet a call from his old Hollywood‑Hills roommate, Michael Abbott, pulled him back.
"I was looking at a game Joe had made, and it blew my mind. It convinced me to come out of retirement," Wendschuh says. He introduced the project to Reid Schneider, a former Warner Bros. Games VP now heading Raccoon Logic, who became 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. The studio began pitching in the summer of 2023, a period marked by a broader industry downturn. "People liked what we were building but the market was tough," Dietsch notes.
The studio eventually partnered with CAA in Los Angeles, which helped them secure a seed round from Lifelike Capital and Krafton in 2024. The involvement of CAA—representing titles such as 007: First Light—combined with the presence of veteran game industry figures, gave the project credibility. "My agent at CAA, Derek Douglas, had represented me for twelve years and previously ran the video‑game department at William Morris," Wendschuh adds. What truly sets Join Us apart is the way it is being built: a 13‑person full‑time team that maintains a small‑studio culture where every voice matters.
Dietsch emphasizes that from day one the team understood the scope of their ambition and deliberately invested in robust, scalable tools. "If a system exists in the game, it must be debuggable and expandable by a single developer," he says. The first year of development was split between ideating gameplay and constructing the internal toolset that would allow the open‑world map to grow without collapsing under its own weight.
Funding from Kraftor and Lifelike was structured as equity, allowing the studio to self‑finance development while using a modest amount of project finance for marketing. "Our investors want the studio to increase in enterprise value, so they support our tool‑building ethos," explains Wendschuh. "Whenever we encounter a problem we don’t know how to solve, we build a custom tool. It may slow us down in the short term, but it enables a tiny team to deliver a game of this scale." In an era where many studios tout generative AI as a shortcut, Wolf Haus deliberately shuns the technology for creative work.
"We don’t use generative AI in the game’s creation because we believe a human touch is essential," Dietsch states. Wendschuh concedes the team uses AI only for administrative tasks like calendar management and email drafting. Interestingly, Krafton—publicly positioning itself as an "AI‑first" company—insisted that Wolf Haus avoid AI in the creative pipeline, mirroring similar statements from its subsidiary Neon Giant. The studio’s commitment to handcrafted content is evident in the six‑kilometre‑square map, which was built entirely by hand, and the 15,000 voice lines recorded by real actors.
"Even as a small indie, we felt it was vital that every line be performed by a human," Dietsch explains. Dietsch also reflects on the contrast between film and game development. In film, an idea can take years to reach the set, requiring numerous approvals and the involvement of high‑profile talent.
By contrast, a game idea can be prototyped within hours, allowing immediate iteration. "You can have a concept in the morning and see it in the engine by afternoon," he says, highlighting the immediacy that fuels his passion. Wendschuh adds that traditional filmmaking is front‑loaded with intense, high‑stakes production phases, whereas games have fewer gatekeepers. "Anyone can rent a camera and shoot a backyard movie, but without star power or distribution it’s unlikely to succeed.
In games, the barriers are lower; you don’t need an A‑list actor or director to make a hit," he observes. Both founders agree that the core creative impulse—telling a story and delivering an experience—remains the same across mediums. "When I was six, I wanted to make either movies or games; it came down to a coin toss and a Christmas camera," Dietsch recalls.
He learned programming on a TI‑83 calculator, a skill that has stayed with him throughout his career. "Whether you’re making a film or a game, you’re crafting an experience, a narrative, and engaging the audience.
That essence never changes."