You may remember the Join Us trailer that appeared in the Xbox Showcase back in June. The clip introduced a darkly humorous co‑op cult simulator, showing robed followers riding pig‑mounted platforms, firing machine guns, and culminating in a shot of Cthulhu‑like tentacles. What didn’t make the cut was the infamous snake‑gun, a weapon that Joe Dietsch, CEO and creative director of Wolf Haus Games, says was born from a child’s off‑hand suggestion. "One of the team members’ 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 was blown away, and the weapon stayed in the final build," Dietsch recounts. 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 their 1970s‑style cult.
It also illustrates the studio’s technology‑first mindset, which has enabled a high‑fidelity title to be produced by an unusually small crew. "We set out to be disruptors," says Michael Abbott, Wolf Haus’s chief operating officer.
"Everyone told us a twelve‑person team couldn’t deliver a game of this scale. We came from indie film backgrounds, where we learned to punch far above our weight. After 80 pitches we finally secured equity investment from Krafton and Lifelike Capital," Abbott explains. The founders’ Hollywood pedigree runs deep.
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 founded by Chris Roberts before his Star Citizen venture. He later produced movies such as Fight for ’84 starring Jamie Foxx. Join Us began as a side project in Unreal Engine.
"Unreal was free to download, and I’d always loved games but felt blocked by the cost of entry for creation. I started tinkering with tutorials on YouTube and built a few tiny prototypes," Dietsch says.
Even without prior development experience he managed to assemble a couple of simple games before deciding to aim higher. The core concept—a doomsday cult simulator that blends survival mechanics with grindhouse cinema aesthetics—kept pulling him back. He built a proof‑of‑concept demo, assuming he would eventually hit a technical wall.
When he showed the demo to Abbott, the latter took it to Dooma, a partner studio. Dooma Wendschuh, Wolf Haus’s CFO and narrative director, entered the picture after a career that spanned film production, screenwriting, and video‑game narrative work for 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 roughly C$430 million.
After a brief retirement on a remote Canadian island, a call from his old Hollywood‑hill roommate Michael Abbott pulled him back into game development. Wendschuh presented the demo 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 a core team forming, the next hurdle was financing—an especially tough task during the industry downturn of 2023‑24.
Initial pitches generated interest but no commitments. After enlisting CAA (Creative Artists Agency) as representation and re‑pitching in 2024, Wolf Haus finally closed a seed round with Lifelike Capital and Krafton.
Wendschuh credits the CAA connection and the presence of seasoned veterans like Schneider and Chartrand for the breakthrough. Despite the high‑profile backers, the studio remains lean: just 13 full‑time staff. "We entered the project with a clear sense of scope and wanted to keep a small‑team culture where everyone has a voice and touches the creative process," Dietsch notes.
To make such an ambitious open‑world game feasible with a tiny crew, the studio invested heavily in custom tooling early on. "Any system in the game must be scalable and debuggable by a single person.
We built a toolkit that lets us expand features across a large map without the project collapsing under its own weight," Dietsch explains. The first year of development was therefore split between ideating gameplay and constructing the underlying tools that would support future projects. The equity funding model gave Wolf Haus the runway to perfect those tools. "Krafton and Lifelike’s investment funded the entire development.
We’re now only seeking modest project finance for marketing. Their equity stake aligns their interests with ours, encouraging us to keep building robust tools even if it slows short‑term progress," says Wendschuh. When asked about generative AI, the team is unequivocal: they do not use it for creative work. "Our philosophy is that a game needs a human touch.
We might use AI for scheduling or email drafts, but never for design, art, or narrative," Dietsch states. Krafton, despite branding itself as an "AI‑first" company, also insisted that Wolf Haus avoid generative AI in the creative pipeline, echoing similar stances from other Krafton‑owned studios.
The commitment to handcrafted content extends to the world and voice work. The six‑kilometer‑square map in Join Us was built entirely by hand, and the 15,000 voice lines were recorded by human actors, not synthetic voices.
"Even as a small indie, we felt it was essential to preserve that human element," Wendschuh adds. Dietsch reflects on the contrast between film and games. In cinema, an idea can take years to materialize, requiring countless approvals and the involvement of high‑profile talent.
In game development, an idea can be prototyped the same day and instantly experienced in the engine. "That immediacy is exhilarating," he says. Wendschuh observes that film production is heavily front‑loaded, with intense, costly pre‑production phases to secure A‑list directors and actors. While anyone can technically shoot a low‑budget movie, breaking through without major names or distribution is rare.
By comparison, the barriers to publishing a successful game are lower; you don’t need a Hollywood star to attract players. Both mediums, however, share a common creative impulse: storytelling and immersive experience. "When I was six, I wanted to make either movies or games. A coin toss decided the path, but the core desire to craft an experience for an audience remains the same," Dietsch concludes.