The trailer for Join Us first caught public attention during the Xbox Showcase in June, offering a glimpse of a darkly humorous cooperative cult simulator. In the teaser, robed cultists ride on pigs while firing machine guns, culminating in a dramatic reveal of colossal, Cthulhu‑like tentacles. What didn’t make the cut, according to Joe Dietsch—CEO and creative director of Wolf Haus Games—is the infamous snake‑gun.
Dietsch recounts the origin of that weapon: “One of the team members’ kids asked, ‘What would a snake‑gun look like?’ We had a rapid‑prototyping tool that let us scale a gun model in minutes, so I whipped up a snake‑shooting firearm in about half an hour. The kid was ecstatic, and the gun stayed in the final build.” This anecdote exemplifies the chaotic, sandbox‑style gameplay Join Us promises, where players can amass followers—or invite friends in co‑op mode—to build a 1970s‑inspired cult in an open‑world survival setting. The game’s development philosophy mirrors the studio’s broader ambition to be disruptors in the industry. Michael Abbott, Wolf Haus’s chief operating officer, explains, “We told everyone we could deliver a AAA‑level experience with just twelve people.
Most people thought we were crazy.” Their confidence stems from a background in low‑budget, high‑impact indie filmmaking, where punching above one’s weight is the norm. After 80 pitch meetings, the studio finally secured equity financing from Krafton and Lifelike Capital, both of which took stakes in Wolf Haus.
Wolf Haus’s founding team is steeped in Hollywood history. Dietsch studied film at Chapman University alongside Louie Gibson, son of actor‑director Mel Gibson, and the two later co‑wrote and co‑directed the indie features Happy Hunting and Manifest West.
Abbott is the son of renowned 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’s film résumé also includes producing credits on titles such as Fight for ’84 starring Jamie Foxx.
The seed of Join Us sprouted when Dietsch began experimenting with Unreal Engine. “I discovered Unreal was free to download, and despite being a lifelong gamer and movie fan, I felt there was a massive barrier to actually creating something,” he says. He taught himself the engine through YouTube tutorials, eventually producing a handful of small games before deciding to tackle something larger. The concept—a doomsday cult simulator that blends survival mechanics with grindhouse cinema aesthetics—merged his passions for both film and interactive media.
He built a proof‑of‑concept prototype, expecting to hit a technical wall at some point. When he showed the demo to Abbott, the latter immediately recognized its potential and introduced it to Dooma, a key early partner. Dooma’s CFO and narrative director, Dooma Wendschuh, transitioned from film production and screenwriting to game development in the early 2000s, contributing writing to titles like Prince of Persia: The Two Thrones, Assassin’s Creed, and Batman: Arkham Origins through his studio Sekretagent Productions.
Later, Wendschuh founded several tech ventures, most notably the cannabis formulation company Ebbu, which sold for C$430 million (about $330 million USD). After cashing out, Wendschuh bought a remote island restaurant in Canada, intending to retire.
Yet, in true Hollywood fashion, a call from his former roommate Michael Abbott pulled him back into the industry. "I was ready to relax on a beach, but Joe’s game blew my mind and convinced me to come out of retirement," Wendschuh recalls. He then brought in Reid Schneider, a former Warner Bros. Games VP now heading Raccoon Logic, as a strategic advisor, and recruited Pierre‑Olivier Chartrand, ex‑Ubisoft Montreal programmer, to serve as chief technology officer.
With the core team assembled, the next hurdle was funding—an especially tough task during the industry downturn of 2023‑2024. The studio pitched relentlessly, eventually partnering with Creative Artists Agency (CAA) in Los Angeles, which helped reopen doors in 2024.
Their persistence paid off when Lifelike Capital and Krafton closed a seed round, providing the capital needed to continue development. The studio’s lean structure—13 full‑time staff members—required a meticulous approach to tooling.
Dietsch explains, “Every system we build must be scalable and debuggable by a single person. We invested heavily in a custom toolkit early on so that as features proliferated across the open‑world map, the project wouldn’t collapse under its own weight.” This focus on internal tools allowed the team to iterate quickly while maintaining high‑fidelity visuals and complex gameplay mechanics.
Funding from Krafton and Lifelike was structured as equity, meaning the studio could self‑finance the game’s development while reserving a modest amount of project finance for marketing later on. "Our investors are motivated to increase the studio’s enterprise value, so they support our tool‑building ethos," says Wendschuh. "Whenever we encounter a problem we can’t solve off‑the‑shelf, we build a bespoke tool.
It may slow us down in the short term, but it enables a tiny team to produce a game of this scale." When asked about generative AI—a hot topic in game development—Dietsch gives a clear answer: the studio does not employ it for creative work. "We believe a human touch is essential.
Using AI to generate assets would defeat the purpose of why we love making games," he says. Wendschuh adds that the only AI tools they use are mundane productivity aids, such as calendar scheduling and email drafting. Interestingly, Krafton, which has publicly positioned itself as an "AI‑first" company, explicitly required Wolf Haus to avoid generative AI in the creative pipeline, echoing similar stances taken by other Krafton‑owned studios.
The commitment to handcrafted content extends to the game’s world and audio. The six‑kilometer‑square map was built entirely by hand, and the 15,000 voice lines were recorded by human actors, not synthetic voices.
"Even as an indie, we felt it was crucial to preserve that level of human artistry," Dietsch notes. Dietsch also reflects on the differences between film and game creation.
In cinema, an idea can take years to materialize, requiring approvals, casting, and extensive pre‑production. In contrast, a game concept can be prototyped within hours: "You can have an idea in the morning, drop it into the engine, and see it instantly. That immediacy is exhilarating." Wendschuh observes that film production is heavily front‑loaded, often hinging on securing a handful of high‑profile talent to greenlight a project.
While anyone can shoot a low‑budget movie, breaking through without marquee names or distribution is rare. Games, however, have far fewer gatekeepers; a small team can reach a global audience without needing A‑list actors or directors. This democratization is a key factor behind Wolf Haus’s confidence in tackling an ambitious title with a modest crew. Both founders trace their creative spark back to childhood.
Dietsch recalls wanting to make either movies or games at age six, a decision that ultimately hinged on receiving a camera for Christmas. He taught himself programming on a TI‑83 calculator, laying the groundwork for a career that now bridges both mediums. "Whether you’re crafting a film or a game, you’re delivering an experience, telling a story, and engaging an audience," he concludes. "The medium changes, but the core creative impulse remains the same."