The trailer for Join Us first appeared during the Xbox Showcase in June, offering a glimpse of a darkly humorous co‑op cult simulation. 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 team members’ kids suggested a snake‑shooting weapon," Dietsch recalls.
"We had a rapid‑scaling gun system, so within about thirty minutes I built a gun that launches snakes. The kid was ecstatic, and the weapon stayed in the final build." This anecdote captures the chaotic, improvisational spirit that defines Join Us, an open‑world sandbox survival title where players can recruit followers—or invite friends in co‑op mode—to join a 1970s‑style cult. It also illustrates the studio’s technology‑first mindset, which has enabled 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, summed up the team’s ambition: "We wanted to be disruptors. We told everyone we could build a AAA‑level game with just twelve people, and they laughed." Their confidence stems from a background in indie filmmaking, where they learned to achieve big results on shoestring budgets.
After 80 pitches, the studio finally secured equity funding from Krafton and Lifelike Capital, both of which took stakes in Wolf Haus. The founders’ Hollywood connections run deep.
Dietsch studied film at Chapman University alongside Louie Gibson—son of Mel Gibson—who later co‑founded Wolf Haus and co‑wrote and co‑directed the indie films Happy Hunting and Manifest West. Abbott is the son of veteran makeup artist Larry Abbott and helped launch Ascendant Pictures, the production company started by Chris Roberts before his Star Citizen venture. Abbott later produced movies such as Fight for ’84 starring Jamie Foxx.
Join Us originated from Dietsch’s early experiments in Unreal Engine. "Unreal was free to download, and I’d always loved games and movies, but the barrier to actually creating something felt huge," he explains. He taught himself through YouTube tutorials, built a few small prototypes, and eventually settled on the idea of a doomsday cult simulator—a mash‑up of survival mechanics and grindhouse cinema that merged his two passions.
The proof‑of‑concept grew out of a simple mindset: push the idea as far as possible until a technical wall appeared. Dietsch showed the demo to Abbott, who then presented it to Dooma. 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, contributing writing to 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 C$430 million.
After selling Ebbu, Wendschuh bought a remote island restaurant in Canada, intending to retire. Yet a call from his old Hollywood Hills roommate, Michael Abbott, pulled him back.
"I watched the demo Joe sent me and it blew my mind, so I came out of retirement," Wendschuh says. He introduced the project to Reid Schneider, former Warner Bros. Games VP and now head of Raccoon Logic, who became a strategic advisor and recruited former Ubisoft Montreal programmer Pierre‑Olivier Chartrand as chief technology officer. Funding proved challenging amid a market downturn.
The team began pitching in summer 2023, receiving polite interest but few commitments. After signing with CAA in Los Angeles and re‑pitching in 2024, they finally closed a seed round with Lifelike Capital and Krafton. Wendschuh credits CAA’s influence—especially agent Derek Douglas, who had represented him during his twelve‑year game‑development career—and the credibility of veteran advisors like Schneider and Chartrand.
Despite the high‑profile backing, Join Us is being built by just 13 full‑time staff. Dietsch emphasizes the deliberate choice to stay small: "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 possible, the studio invested heavily in internal tooling from day one. "Any system in the game must be scalable and debuggable by a single person," he notes.
The first year was therefore split between designing gameplay and constructing the tools that would keep the project from collapsing under its own weight. The equity funding model gave Wolf Haus the runway to perfect those tools. "Krafton and Lifelike’s capital financed the entire development; we’re only now adding a modest project‑finance line for marketing," says Wendschuh. He adds that equity partners are motivated to increase the studio’s enterprise value, which aligns with the team’s philosophy of building custom solutions for every obstacle, even if it slows short‑term progress.
When asked about generative AI, Dietsch gives a clear answer: the studio does not use it for creative work. "We believe a game needs a human touch.
Handing development over to an AI would defeat why we get up each morning," he says. Wendschuh concedes they use AI tools for mundane tasks like calendar management and email drafting, but not for design, art, or narrative. Interestingly, Krafton—publicly branding itself as an "AI‑first" company—insisted that Wolf Haus avoid generative AI in the creative pipeline, mirroring a similar stance taken by Neon Giant, another Krafton‑owned studio.
The team’s commitment to handcrafted content extends to the game’s six‑kilometre‑square map, which was built entirely by hand, and its 15,000 voice lines, all recorded by human actors. "That mattered to us, even as a tiny indie," Dietsch asserts. Dietsch also reflects on the differences between film and games.
In cinema, an idea can take years to materialise, requiring countless approvals and the involvement of high‑profile talent. In games, an inspiration can be prototyped in a matter of hours, allowing immediate iteration.
Wendschuh agrees, noting that film production is front‑loaded with intense, high‑stakes coordination, whereas games have far fewer gatekeepers—no need for A‑list actors or directors to secure a green light. Both mediums, however, share a core creative impulse: storytelling and delivering an experience. "When I was six, I wanted to make either movies or games.
It boiled down to a coin toss and whether I got a camera for Christmas," Dietsch smiles. "Whether you’re making a film or a game, you’re trying to engage an audience, tell a story, and create an experience.
The tools have changed, but the goal remains the same."