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 zip around on pig‑drawn carts, brandishing machine guns, before the scene abruptly shifts to a massive, Cthulhu‑like mass of tentacles. What didn’t make the final cut was the infamous snake gun, a quirky weapon that Joe Dietsch—CEO and creative director of Wolf Haus Games—explains was born from a child’s off‑hand suggestion.
"One of our team member’s kids asked, ‘What would a snake‑gun look like?’ We had a modular weapon system that let us prototype a new gun in about thirty minutes, so I built one that literally fires snakes. The kid went nuts, and the weapon stayed in the game," Dietsch recounts.
This anecdote captures the chaotic, improvisational spirit that defines Join Us, an open‑world sandbox survival title where players can recruit followers—or friends in co‑op mode—to build a 1970s‑style cult. It also illustrates the studio’s technology‑first philosophy, which has allowed a small crew to produce a high‑fidelity experience that would normally require a much larger staff. Michael Abbott, Wolf Haus’s chief operating officer, describes the team’s ambition as deliberately disruptive. "We told everyone, ‘We don’t need a hundred‑person studio; twelve talented people can do this.’ Most people thought we were crazy," he says.
Their confidence stems from a history of over‑delivering on limited budgets. "We come from indie film backgrounds, so we’re used to punching far above our weight," Abbott adds. After 80 pitches, the studio finally secured equity investment from Krafton and Lifelike Capital, both of which now hold stakes in Wolf Haus. The founders’ Hollywood pedigree runs deep.
Dietsch studied film at Chapman University alongside Louie Gibson, son of Mel Gibson, who 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, a production company started by Chris Roberts before he moved on to Star Citizen. Abbott later produced films such as Fight for ’84, starring Jamie Foxx. These connections gave the team a unique blend of cinematic storytelling and production savvy.
Join Us originated from Dietsch’s early experiments in Unreal Engine. "Unreal was free to download, and I’d always loved games but felt there was a massive barrier to actually building something," he explains.
He taught himself the engine through YouTube tutorials, eventually crafting a few small prototypes. The concept that stuck was a doomsday cult simulator that merged survival mechanics with grindhouse cinema aesthetics—a hybrid that appealed to both his gaming and film sensibilities. 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, the studio’s early‑stage partner.
Dooma’s CFO and narrative director, Dooma Wendschuh, had begun his career as a film producer and screenwriter before moving into games in the early 2000s, contributing writing to titles like Prince of Persia: The Two Thrones, Assassin’s Creed, and Batman: Arkham Origins. In the 2010s he founded several tech ventures, most notably the cannabis formulation company 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 a sudden call from his old Hollywood Hills roommate, Michael Abbott, changed his plans. "He said a friend had made a video game and wanted me to look at it. I watched the demo and it blew my mind, so I came out of retirement," Wendschuh recalls.
He then introduced the project to Reid Schneider, former VP at Warner Bros. Games and now head of 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 funding—particularly difficult during the industry downturn of 2023‑24.
The studio began pitching in summer 2023, initially receiving positive feedback but little capital. After signing with Creative Artists Agency (CAA) in Los Angeles and re‑pitching throughout 2024, they finally closed a seed round with Lifelike Capital and Krafton.
Wendschuh credits CAA’s representation—alongside titles like 007: First Light—and the presence of seasoned veterans such as Schneider and Chartrand for opening doors. Despite the high‑profile backing, Wolf Haus kept its headcount deliberately low: thirteen full‑time employees. "We wanted a small‑team culture where everyone has a voice and can touch every creative aspect," says Dietsch. To make a large‑scale open world feasible with such a lean crew, the studio invested heavily in internal tooling from day one.
"Every system must be scalable and debuggable by a single person," Dietsch notes. The first year of development was split between ideating gameplay and building the underlying toolset that would keep the project from collapsing under its own weight as features proliferated across the map. The equity model with Krafton and Lifelike allowed the studio to self‑fund the development, using the investors’ capital to cover salaries, technology, and later a modest amount of project finance for marketing.
"Our investors are motivated to increase the studio’s enterprise value, so they support us in building extensive tools," Wendschuh explains. This approach sometimes slows pure feature development, but it grants the freedom to solve problems in‑house rather than outsourcing. When asked about generative AI, a hot topic in modern game production, Dietsch gives a clear answer: none is used in the creative pipeline. "We believe a human touch is essential.
Turning development over to an AI would defeat why we get up in the morning," he says. Wendschuh adds that while the team may use AI for mundane tasks like calendar management, it never touches design, art, or narrative.
Interestingly, Krafton—publicly branding itself as an “AI‑first” company—insisted that Wolf Haus avoid generative AI in the creative process, mirroring similar statements from Krafton‑owned Neon Giant. The studio’s stance reflects broader concerns about AI displacing creative talent.
"We respect the work of voice actors and artists, and we don’t want AI to take their jobs," Wendschuh says. In Join Us, the six‑kilometre‑square map is hand‑crafted, and all 15,000 voice lines were recorded by human actors, a point the team emphasizes as a badge of authenticity.
Dietsch also highlights a key advantage of games over film: immediacy. In cinema, an idea can take years to materialize, requiring approvals, casting, and lengthy production schedules.
In contrast, a game concept can be prototyped in a single morning and tested instantly in the engine. "You can see your idea come to life immediately, which is exhilarating," he says.
Wendschuh notes that film production is heavily front‑loaded, often requiring a handful of high‑profile directors or actors to secure studio backing. While anyone can technically shoot a low‑budget movie with a backyard camera, breaking through without star power or distribution is rare.
Games, however, have far fewer gatekeepers; a small indie can reach a global audience without A‑list talent. Both founders agree that the core creative impulse—telling stories and delivering experiences—remains the same across mediums.
"When I was six, I wanted to make either games or movies. It came down to a coin toss and maybe getting a camera for Christmas. I learned to program on a TI‑83, so I’ve always loved both," Dietsch reflects.
"Whether you’re making a film or a game, you’re crafting an experience, telling a story, and engaging an audience. That fundamental drive hasn’t changed."