The trailer for Join Us first appeared during the Xbox Showcase in June, offering a glimpse of a darkly humorous cooperative cult simulation. In the clip, robed followers zip around on pigs, unleash a barrage of machine‑gun fire, and the sequence culminates in a monstrous, Cthulhu‑like tangle of tentacles.
What the audience didn’t see, according to Wolf Haus Games’ CEO and creative director Joe Dietsch, was the infamous snake gun. "One of the developers’ kids asked, ‘What would a snake‑shooting gun look like?’" Dietsch recalls. "We had a modular weapon system that let us prototype quickly, so within half an hour I built a gun that fires snakes.
The kid went nuts, and the weapon survived into the final build." 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 build a 1970s‑style cult empire. It also illustrates the studio’s technology‑first mindset, which has enabled a high‑fidelity, large‑scale title to be produced by a remarkably small team. Michael Abbott, Wolf Haus’s chief operating officer, summed up the ambition: “We set out to be disruptors.
We told everyone we could pull off a AAA‑level experience with just twelve people, and they laughed.” The team’s confidence stems from a history of doing big things on shoestring budgets. "We come from indie film backgrounds, where you learn to punch far above your weight," Abbott explains.
After 80 pitch meetings, the studio finally secured equity financing from Krafton and Lifelike Capital, both of which took a stake in Wolf Haus. The founders’ Hollywood credentials run deep. Dietsch studied film at Chapman University alongside Louie Gibson—son of actor‑director Mel Gibson—who later co‑founded Wolf Haus and 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 side project for Dietsch while he was tinkering with Unreal Engine. "Unreal Engine is free to download, and I’d always loved games but felt there was a massive barrier to actually creating something," he says. He taught himself through YouTube tutorials, built a few small prototypes, and eventually settled on the concept of a doomsday cult simulator—a mash‑up of survival mechanics and grindhouse cinema that merged his film and gaming passions into a single intellectual property.
He created 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, a partner studio. Dooma’s CFO and narrative director, Dooma Wendschuh, had a career that spanned film production, screenwriting, and video‑game writing, contributing to titles like Prince of Persia: The Two Thrones, Assassin’s Creed, and Batman: Arkham Origins through his company Sekretagent Productions.
In the 2010s he founded several tech ventures, most notably the cannabis‑formulation firm Ebbu, which sold for roughly C$430 million (US$330 million). After selling Ebbu, Wendschuh bought a remote island restaurant in Canada, intending to retire. Yet, in classic Hollywood fashion, an unexpected call from his old roommate Michael Abbott pulled him back into the industry. "I watched the demo Joe sent me, and it completely blew my mind.
It was the spark that got me out of retirement," Wendschuh recounts. He then introduced the project to Reid Schneider, former VP at Warner Bros. Games and now head of Raccoon Logic (the creators of Journey to the Savage Planet), who joined as a strategic advisor.
Schneider recruited Pierre‑Olivier Chartrand, an ex‑Ubisoft Montreal programmer, to serve as chief technology officer. With the core team assembled, the next hurdle was financing—a daunting task during the industry downturn of 2023‑24. The studio began pitching in the summer of 2023, initially without representation. After signing with CAA (Creative Artists Agency) in Los Angeles, they returned to the circuit in 2024 and eventually closed a seed round with Lifelike Capital and Krafton.
Wendschuh credits CAA’s clout and the presence of veteran advisors for opening doors that would otherwise have remained closed. Despite the heavyweight backing, Wolf Haus has deliberately kept its staff lean—13 full‑time employees at the time of writing.
"We entered the project with a clear understanding of scope and wanted to preserve a small‑team culture where everyone has a voice and touches the creative process," says Dietsch. To make such an ambitious open‑world possible, the studio invested heavily in custom tooling early on. "Any system in the game must be scalable and debuggable by a single person. We built a toolkit that lets us expand features across a massive map without the project collapsing under its own weight," he explains.
This tooling philosophy not only supports Join Us but also lays the groundwork for future Wolf Haus titles. The equity financing model gave the studio the runway to perfect these tools.
"Krafton and Lifelike’s investment has essentially self‑funded the game," Wendschuh notes. While a modest amount of project finance is being used for marketing, the core development has been covered by the equity partners. This arrangement aligns the investors’ interests with the studio’s long‑term value creation, encouraging the team to build reusable tools rather than taking shortcuts. When asked about the role of generative AI—a hot topic in game development—Dietsch gave a blunt answer: "We don’t use any generative AI in the creative process.
The human touch is essential to us." Wendschuh adds, "We have a few AI subscriptions for mundane tasks like calendar management and email drafting, but nothing that influences design, art, or narrative." Interestingly, Krafton, which has publicly positioned itself as an "AI‑first" company, explicitly required Wolf Haus to avoid generative AI for creative work. This mirrors a similar stance taken by Neon Giant, another Krafton‑owned studio, which clarified it was not participating in Krafton’s AI pivot. The team’s commitment to handcrafted content extends to the game’s massive six‑kilometre‑square map, which was built entirely by hand, and the 15,000 voice lines, all recorded by human actors.
"Those decisions were non‑negotiable for us, even as a small indie," Dietsch emphasizes. Dietsch also reflects on the contrast between film and games. In cinema, an idea can take years to materialise, requiring approvals, casting, and massive budgets before a director ever sees the final product. In game development, an idea can be prototyped within hours, allowing immediate iteration.
"You can have a concept in the morning, drop it into the engine, and see it instantly. That immediacy is exhilarating," he says. Wendschuh points out that film production is heavily front‑loaded: securing a handful of A‑list talent or a big studio can make or break a project.
While anyone can technically shoot a movie with a cheap camera, breaking through without star power or distribution is rare. By contrast, the video‑game market has far fewer gatekeepers, making it easier for a small, passionate team to reach a global audience without marquee names.
Both founders agree that the core creative drive—telling stories and delivering experiences—remains the same across mediums. "When I was six, I wanted to make either movies or games. It boiled down to a coin toss and a Christmas camera.
I learned to program on a TI‑83, so the passion has always been there. Whether you’re crafting a film or a game, you’re creating an experience, a narrative, an emotional journey for the audience," Dietsch concludes.