The trailer for Join Us first appeared during the Xbox Showcase in June, offering a glimpse of a darkly humorous cooperative cult simulation where robed followers zip around on pigs, wield machine guns, and conclude with an image of colossal, Cthulhu‑like tentacles. What didn’t make the cut, according to Joe Dietsch, the 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‑prototyping tool for firearms, so within half an hour I built a gun that fires snakes.
It blew his mind, and it stayed in the final build." That anecdote captures the chaotic, over‑the‑top gameplay that Join Us promises: an open‑world sandbox survival experience where players can recruit followers—or friends in co‑op mode—to join a 1970s‑style cult. It also illustrates the studio’s technology‑first mindset, which has allowed a small group of developers to produce a high‑fidelity title that would normally require a much larger team.
Michael Abbott, Wolf Haus’s chief operating officer, summed it up: "We set out to be disruptors." "Everyone told us it was impossible to build a game of this scope with just twelve people," Abbott said. "But we came from indie film backgrounds where we learned to punch far above our weight." After 80 pitch meetings, the studio finally secured equity investment from Krafton and Lifelike Capital, both of which now hold stakes in Wolf Haus. The founding trio’s Hollywood roots run deep.
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 veteran makeup artist Larry Abbott and helped launch Ascendant Pictures, the production company founded by Chris Roberts before he turned his attention to Star Citizen. Abbott later produced movies such as Fight for ’84, starring Jamie Foxx. Join Us began as a personal experiment for Dietsch in Unreal Engine.
"Unreal was free to download, and I’d always loved games but felt there was a huge barrier to actually creating something," he explained. He taught himself through YouTube tutorials, built a few modest prototypes, and eventually settled on the concept of a doomsday cult simulator—a mash‑up of survival mechanics and grindhouse cinema that merged his favorite film and game tropes into a single intellectual property. He created a proof‑of‑concept demo, assuming it would eventually hit a technical wall. When he showed the demo to Abbott, the latter took it to Dooma, a partner studio that helped refine the vision.
Dooma’s CFO and narrative director, Dooma Wendschuh, had previously worked as a producer and screenwriter in film before moving into games in the early 2000s, providing writing for titles like Prince of Persia: The Two Thrones, Assassin’s Creed, and Batman: Arkham Origins. Wendschuh later founded several tech ventures, including the cannabis formulation company Ebbu, which sold for roughly C$430 million. After selling Ebbu, Wendschuh bought a remote island restaurant in Canada, intending to retire. Yet, in classic Hollywood fashion, an unexpected call from his old roommate Michael Abbott pulled him back into the industry.
"I saw the demo Joe had built, and it blew my mind," Wendschuh said, prompting him to join the project. He introduced Reid Schneider, former VP at Warner Bros. Games and now head of Raccoon Logic, as a strategic advisor, and recruited Pierre‑Olivier Chartrand, an ex‑Ubisoft Montreal programmer, as chief technology officer.
With the core team assembled, the next hurdle was financing—a challenge amplified by a market downturn in the summer of 2023. Initial pitches generated interest but also skepticism. The studio eventually partnered with Creative Artists Agency (CAA) in Los Angeles, which helped them secure a seed round from Lifelike Capital and Krafton in 2024.
Wendschuh believes CAA’s connections, along with the credibility of veterans like Schneider and Chartrand, were decisive. Despite the high‑profile backing, Join Us remains a lean operation with just 13 full‑time staff members. "We entered the project with a clear understanding of scope and wanted to keep a small‑team culture where everyone has a voice," Dietsch said. To achieve such ambition with limited manpower, the studio invested heavily in custom tooling early on.
"Every system must be scalable and debuggable by a single person," he noted. The first year of development was split between ideating gameplay and building the internal tools that would later support the open‑world map and its myriad features. The equity funding model gave Wolf Haus the runway to perfect these tools.
"Krafton and Lifelike’s investments have essentially self‑funded the game," Wendschuh explained. "We’re now only seeking modest project finance for marketing, but the core development was covered by our equity partners." Both founders stress that their approach deliberately avoids generative AI. "We believe a human touch is essential to game creation," Dietsch said.
"Using AI to replace creative decisions would defeat the purpose of why we love making games." Wendschuh added that while the team uses AI for mundane tasks like calendar management, it never touches the creative pipeline. Interestingly, Krafton, which has branded itself as an "AI‑first" company, explicitly required Wolf Haus to refrain from using generative AI in the game's development, mirroring similar stances taken by other Krafton‑owned studios. The studio’s commitment to handcrafted content extends to the game’s world and audio. The six‑kilometre‑square map is entirely hand‑modeled, and the 15,000 voice lines were recorded by human actors, not synthetic voices.
"That was a non‑negotiable for us," Dietsch emphasized, even as an indie studio. Dietsch also contrasts the immediacy of game development with the lengthy gestation of film. In cinema, an idea can take years to secure funding, talent, and distribution before it ever reaches a set.
In games, a concept can be prototyped in a matter of hours and tested directly in the engine. "You can have an idea this morning, drop it into Unreal, and see it instantly," he said, describing the exhilarating feedback loop that keeps him motivated.
Wendschuh observes that filmmaking is often front‑loaded with high‑stakes negotiations for a handful of A‑list directors or actors, whereas game development faces fewer gatekeepers. "Anyone can rent a camera and shoot a backyard movie, but without big names or distribution, the odds of success are slim," he noted. "In games, the barrier is lower; you don’t need an A‑list star to attract an audience." Both founders agree that the core creative impulse—telling stories and delivering experiences—remains the same across mediums. Dietsch recalls that as a child he wanted to make either movies or games, and a simple coin toss and a Christmas camera set him on his path.
He learned programming on a TI‑83 calculator, merging his love for both worlds. "Whether you’re making a film or a game, you’re crafting an experience, telling a story, and engaging the audience," he concluded. Join Us thus stands as a testament to what a small, tightly knit team can achieve when they combine Hollywood know‑how, entrepreneurial savvy, and a willingness to build their own tools—without relying on generative AI—to bring a wildly original vision to life.