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 teaser, robed followers charge on pigs while firing machine guns, culminating in a shot of colossal, Cthulhu‑like tentacles. What didn’t make the cut, according to Joe Dietsch—CEO and creative director of Wolf Haus Games—was the infamous snake‑gun. "One of the developers’ kids asked, ‘What would a snake‑gun look like?’ We had a rapid‑prototyping tool for weapons, so within half an hour I built a gun that actually shoots snakes.
The kid went nuts, and we kept the weapon in the final build," Dietsch recalls. 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 grow a 1970s‑style cult. The game’s design philosophy mirrors the studio’s operational ethos: lean, tech‑driven, and deliberately disruptive. Michael Abbott, Wolf Haus’s chief operating officer, explains that the team set out to prove that a high‑fidelity, large‑scale experience could be built by a dozen people.
"Everyone told us it was impossible. We’d spent years in indie film where you have to punch far above your weight, so we knew how to stretch limited resources," he says.
After 80 pitches, the studio finally secured equity investment from Krafton and Lifelike Capital, both of which now hold stakes in Wolf Haus. The founding trio brings deep Hollywood connections to the table. 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 originally founded by Chris Roberts before his shift to Star Citizen.
Abbott later produced films such as Fight for ’84 starring Jamie Foxx. Join Us originated from Dietsch’s experimentation in Unreal Engine. "I discovered Unreal was free to download and started tinkering after watching YouTube tutorials," he says. Though he had no formal game‑dev background, he managed to ship a few small prototypes before committing to a larger vision: a doomsday cult simulator that fuses survival mechanics with grindhouse cinema aesthetics.
He built a proof‑of‑concept demo, assuming it would eventually hit a technical wall. When he showed it to Abbott, the latter saw its potential and presented it to Dooma, a partner that helped further development.
Dooma Wendschuh, Wolf Haus’s chief financial officer and narrative director, began his career as a film producer and screenwriter before transitioning to games in the early 2000s. He founded Sekretagent Productions, providing narrative services for titles like Prince of Persia: The Two Thrones, Assassin’s Creed, and Batman: Arkham Origins. Later, he launched several tech ventures, most notably the cannabis‑formulation company Ebbu, which sold for roughly C$430 million (US$330 million).
After that windfall, Wendschuh bought a remote island restaurant in Canada and thought he was retired. "A call out of the blue from my old roommate Michael Abbott changed everything. He sent me a video of Joe’s game, and it blew my mind. I came out of retirement to help," Wendschuh recounts.
He then introduced the project to Reid Schneider, former VP at Warner Bros. Games and now head of 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 the core team in place, the next hurdle was funding—an especially tough task during the industry downturn of 2023‑24.
The studio began pitching in summer 2023, initially receiving polite interest but little commitment. After enlisting Creative Artists Agency (CAA) as representation and returning to the pitch circuit in 2024, they finally closed a seed round with Lifelike Capital and Krafton. Wendschuh credits the CAA connection—whose roster includes titles like 007: First Light—and the presence of veteran advisors for opening doors that would otherwise have remained closed.
Despite the high‑profile backing, Wolf Haus has remained a micro‑studio of just 13 full‑time staff. Dietsch emphasizes that the small size is intentional: "We wanted everyone to have a voice, to touch the creative, and to feel ownership of the final product." To make such an ambitious open‑world game feasible with a tiny crew, the studio invested heavily in custom tooling from day one.
"Any system in the game must be scalable and debuggable by a single person," Dietsch explains. The first year of development was therefore split between ideating gameplay and building the internal tools that would later allow the world to expand without collapsing under its own complexity. The equity funding model gave Wolf Haus the runway to perfect these tools.
"Krafton and Lifelike’s investment essentially self‑funded the game," says Wendschuh. While the studio has begun to explore modest project finance for marketing, the core development has been covered entirely by the equity partners.
This arrangement aligns investor incentives with the studio’s long‑term goal of increasing enterprise value, encouraging them to support extensive tool development even if it slows short‑term progress. When asked about generative AI—a hot topic in game development—both Dietsch and Wendschuh are unequivocal: the studio does not rely on AI for creative work.
"We believe a human touch is essential. Using an AI to generate assets would defeat the reason we get up every morning," Dietsch says.
Wendschuh adds that the only AI tools they use are mundane productivity assistants for scheduling and email. Krafton, despite branding itself as an "AI‑first" company, explicitly required Wolf Haus to avoid generative AI in the creative pipeline. This mirrors a similar stance taken by Neon Giant, another Krafton‑owned studio that publicly distanced itself from the parent’s AI pivot.
Both studios argue that AI threatens jobs for voice actors, artists, and other creatives—a concern that resonates with Wolf Haus’s philosophy. The six‑kilometre‑square map of Join Us is entirely handcrafted, and the game’s 15,000 voice lines were recorded by human actors, underscoring the studio’s commitment to artisanal craftsmanship.
Dietsch reflects on the contrast between filmmaking and game development. In cinema, an idea can take years to materialize, requiring approvals, casting, and extensive pre‑production. In games, a concept can be prototyped within hours, allowing immediate iteration. "You can have an idea in the morning, drop it into the engine, and see it instantly," he says, describing the exhilarating immediacy that draws him to interactive media.
Wendschuh notes that film production is heavily front‑loaded, with a small number of high‑profile talent needed to secure a studio green‑light. By contrast, the video‑game landscape has far fewer gatekeepers, making it easier for small teams to achieve success without A‑list names.
"You don’t need a blockbuster director or a star actor to launch a hit game," he asserts. Both founders trace their passion 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 straddles both mediums. "Whether you’re making a film or a game, you’re telling a story, creating an experience, and engaging an audience.
That core impulse never changes," he concludes.