The trailer for Join Us first appeared during the Xbox Showcase in June, offering a glimpse of a darkly humorous co‑op cult simulation where robed disciples ride pigs, unleash machine‑gun fire, and eventually confront colossal, Cthulhu‑like tentacles. One quirky detail that didn’t make the final cut was the infamous "snake gun," a weapon that shoots serpents. According to Joe Dietsch, CEO and creative director of Wolf Haus Games, the idea sprang from a team member’s son who asked, "Can there be a snake gun?" Using an in‑house scaling tool, Dietsch was able to prototype the weapon in roughly thirty minutes, delighting the youngster and cementing the weapon’s place in the final game.
That anecdote encapsulates the chaotic, over‑the‑top gameplay that Join Us promises: an open‑world sandbox survival experience 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 philosophy, which has enabled a small crew to deliver a high‑fidelity, large‑scale title. Michael Abbott, Wolf Haus’s chief operating officer, summed up the ambition: "We wanted to be disruptors. We told everyone we could build this with twelve people, and they laughed.
But we’ve spent our careers punching far above our weight, so we knew it was possible." The team’s confidence stems from a history of achieving big results on modest budgets. Many of the founders came from indie film backgrounds, where limited resources demand creative problem‑solving.
After 80 pitches, Wolf Haus finally secured equity funding from Krafton and Lifelike Capital, both of which took stakes in the studio. The founding trio’s Hollywood pedigree runs deep. Dietsch studied film at Chapman University alongside Louie Gibson, son of 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 he moved on to Star Citizen. Abbott later produced films such as Fight for ’84, starring Jamie Foxx.
Join Us originated from Dietsch’s early experiments in Unreal Engine. "I discovered Unreal was free to download and started tinkering after watching YouTube tutorials," he recalls. Although he had no formal game‑dev training, he managed to create a few small prototypes before deciding to tackle something larger—a doomsday cult simulator that blends survival mechanics with grindhouse cinema aesthetics. The concept served as a bridge between his love of movies and games, forming the foundation for the eventual proof‑of‑concept demo.
When Dietsch showed the demo to Abbott, the latter immediately took it to Dooma, a production partner that helped shape the vision. Dooma’s CFO and narrative director, Dooma Wendschuh, began his career 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. He later founded several tech ventures, including the cannabis‑formulation firm Ebbu, which sold for roughly C$430 million (US$330 million).
After a brief retirement—during which he bought a remote Canadian island restaurant—Wendschuh was lured back by a call from his old Hollywood‑hill roommate, Michael Abbott, who sent him a demo of Dietsch’s game. "It blew my mind and pulled me out of retirement," Wendschuh says. Wendschuh then introduced the project to Reid Schneider, a former Warner Bros.
Games vice‑president now heading Raccoon Logic, the studio behind Journey to the Savage Planet. Schneider joined as a strategic advisor and recruited Pierre‑Olivier Chartrand, a former Ubisoft Montreal programmer, to serve as chief technology officer.
With this core team in place, Wolf Haus began an arduous funding hunt during a market downturn. Initial outreach in summer 2023 yielded interest but no commitments. After partnering with CAA in Los Angeles and refining their pitch throughout 2024, they finally closed a seed round with Krafton and Lifelike Capital. The CAA connection proved vital.
Derek Douglas, Wolf Haus’s agent at CAA, had previously represented Wendschuh during his twelve‑year stint in game development and had headed the video‑game department at William Morris. This network, combined with the credibility of veterans like Schneider and Chartrand, helped convince investors that a 13‑person studio could deliver a AAA‑level experience.
Wolf Haus deliberately kept the team small—13 full‑time staff at the time of writing—to preserve a tight‑knit, collaborative culture where every voice matters. Dietsch explains that the studio front‑loaded tool development: "If a system exists in the game, it must be scalable and debuggable by a single person. We invested heavily in a toolkit that lets us expand features across an open world without the project collapsing under its own weight.
The first year was as much about building those tools as it was about designing the game itself." The equity funding model gave the studio the breathing room to perfect those tools. Krafton and Lifelike’s capital financed the entire development, with only a modest amount of project finance earmarked for marketing.
"Equity partners are incentivized to increase the studio’s enterprise value, so they support us in building extensive toolsets," says Wendschuh. "Whenever we hit a problem we don’t know how to solve, we build a custom tool. It may slow us down short‑term, but it enables a tiny team to achieve something massive." In an industry increasingly buzzing about generative AI, Wolf Haus has taken a clear stance: they do not use AI for creative production.
Dietsch emphasizes the importance of a human touch: "Turning development over to an AI agent would defeat the purpose of why we get up every morning. We might use AI for scheduling or email replies, but never for art, design, or writing." Krafton, despite branding itself as an "AI‑first" company, also insisted that Wolf Haus avoid generative AI in the creative pipeline. This mirrors the approach of Krafton‑owned Neon Giant, which publicly stated it would not adopt the parent’s AI pivot for its own projects. Wendschuh adds, "We respect creative professionals and don’t want AI to replace voice actors or artists.
The six‑kilometre‑square map in Join Us is handcrafted, and all 15,000 voice lines were recorded by human talent. That was non‑negotiable for us, even as a small indie studio." Dietsch finds the immediacy of game development exhilarating compared with film. In cinema, an idea can take years to reach production, requiring countless approvals and the involvement of high‑profile talent.
In games, a concept can be prototyped the same day, placed into the engine, and instantly tested. Wendschuh notes that film production is heavily front‑loaded, with intense set‑time and a reliance on star power to secure financing.
While anyone can shoot a backyard movie, breaking through without marquee names is rare. By contrast, the lower barrier to entry in games means a small, talented team can reach a wide audience without celebrity backing. Both mediums, however, share a core creative drive: storytelling and immersive experience. Dietsch reflects, "When I was six, I wanted to make either movies or games.
It came down to a coin toss and getting a camera for Christmas. I learned programming on a TI‑83, so I’ve always loved both. Whether you’re making a film or a game, you’re giving people an experience, telling a story, and engaging them. The tools change, but the intention stays the same." Join Us thus stands as a testament to what a focused, tech‑savvy, and creatively driven small team can accomplish when they combine Hollywood know‑how, entrepreneurial grit, and a refusal to rely on shortcuts like generative AI.
The result is a sprawling, hand‑crafted cult simulator that promises players a uniquely chaotic and humorous adventure, all built by a dozen‑plus developers who dared to prove that size isn’t the only factor in game development success.