The trailer for Join Us first appeared during the Xbox Showcase in June, offering a glimpse of a darkly humorous cooperative cult‑simulation. In the clip, robed followers charge on pig‑mounted platforms, unleash machine‑gun fire, and the sequence culminates with an ominous image of colossal, Cthulhu‑like tentacles.
One element that didn’t make the public cut was the infamous "snake gun," a weapon that Joe Dietsch—CEO and creative director of Wolf Haus Games—explains was born from a child’s off‑hand suggestion. "My team member’s son asked, ‘What would a snake‑gun look like?’ We had a modular weapon system that let us prototype quickly, so within half an hour I built a gun that actually fires snakes.
The kid went nuts, and we kept it in the final build," Dietsch recalls. This anecdote captures the chaotic, sandbox‑style gameplay that Join Us promises: an open‑world survival experience where players can recruit followers—or invite friends in co‑op mode—to join a 1970s‑style cult. It also highlights the studio’s technology‑first philosophy, which has allowed a small group to produce a high‑fidelity title that would normally require a much larger staff.
Michael Abbott, Wolf Haus’s chief operating officer, sums up their ambition: "We set out to be disruptors. Everyone told us you’d need a hundred people to pull this off, but we believed twelve could do it." Their confidence stems from a background in indie filmmaking, where they learned to stretch limited budgets and still deliver compelling content.
After 80 pitch meetings, the studio finally secured equity investment from Krafton and Lifelike Capital, giving the project a solid financial foundation. The founders’ Hollywood connections run 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, a production company originally founded by Chris Roberts before he turned his attention to Star Citizen. Abbott later produced films such as Fight for ’84 with Jamie Foxx, further cementing the team’s entertainment pedigree.
Join Us originated from Dietsch’s early experiments in Unreal Engine. "I discovered Unreal was free to download and started learning from YouTube tutorials," he says. Despite having no formal game‑development experience, he built a few small prototypes before committing to a larger vision: a doomsday cult simulator that fuses survival mechanics with grindhouse‑film aesthetics.
The initial proof‑of‑concept was presented to Abbott, who then introduced it to Dooma, the studio that would later become Wolf Haus. Dooma Wendschuh, the studio’s CFO and narrative director, entered the gaming world after a career as a film producer and screenwriter.
He founded Sekretagent Productions, providing narrative services for titles like Prince of Persia: The Two Thrones, Assassin’s Creed, and Batman: Arkham Origins. In the 2010s he launched several tech ventures, most notably the cannabis formulation company Ebbu, which sold for roughly C$430 million (US$330 million). After a brief retirement on a remote Canadian island, a call from his old Hollywood‑hillroommate Michael Abbott pulled him back into the industry.
Wendschuh was immediately impressed by Dietsch’s demo, prompting him to bring in veteran game executive Reid Schneider—formerly of Warner Bros. Games—and programmer Pierre‑Olivier Chartrand from Ubisoft Montreal as chief technology officer. Funding proved challenging amid a broader industry downturn.
The team began pitching in the summer of 2023, initially receiving polite interest but little commitment. After enlisting the representation of Creative Artists Agency (CAA) and refining their pitch, they secured seed funding from Lifelike Capital and Krafton in 2024. Wendschuh credits CAA’s network and the presence of seasoned advisors like Schneider and Chartrand for opening doors that might otherwise have remained closed. Despite the high‑profile backing, Wolf Haus deliberately kept its roster tiny—13 full‑time staff members at the time of writing.
"We wanted every person to have a voice and to touch every creative decision," Dietsch explains. To make such an ambitious open‑world title feasible with a lean crew, the studio invested heavily in custom tooling from the outset. "Each system must be scalable and debuggable by a single developer," says Dietsch. The first year of development was split between ideating gameplay concepts and building the internal tools that would allow those concepts to scale across a six‑kilometre‑square map without collapsing under their own weight.
The equity model with Krafton and Lifelike gave the studio the runway to perfect these tools. "The money they invested funds the entire development, so the game is essentially self‑funded," notes Wendschuh. This arrangement also aligns investor incentives with the studio’s long‑term value creation, encouraging the team to continue building reusable tools even if they temporarily slow feature progress. When asked about generative AI, the team is unequivocal: they do not employ it for creative work.
"Our process relies on a human touch. Using AI to generate assets would undermine why we get up every morning," says Dietsch. Wendschuh adds that the only AI tools in use are mundane productivity assistants for scheduling and email.
Interestingly, Krafton—a company that has publicly embraced an "AI‑first" identity—specifically required Wolf Haus to avoid generative AI in the game’s creation, mirroring a similar stance taken by Krafton‑owned Neon Giant. The studio’s commitment to handcrafted content extends to the game’s world and audio. The entire six‑kilometre‑square map is hand‑built, and all 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," Dietsch emphasizes.
Dietsch also reflects on the contrast between film and game development. In cinema, an idea can take years to materialise, requiring approvals, casting, and massive budgets before a director sees the final product on set. By contrast, a game concept can be prototyped within hours, allowing immediate iteration.
"You can have an idea at breakfast and see it in the engine by lunch," he says, a speed that fuels his enthusiasm. Wendschuh points out that filmmaking is heavily front‑loaded: securing A‑list talent and studio green‑lights before any shooting begins.
While anyone can technically shoot a low‑budget movie, breaking through without marquee names or distribution is rare. Game development, however, has fewer gatekeepers; a small team can ship a successful product without celebrity endorsements.
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 movies or games; it boiled down to a coin toss and maybe getting a camera for Christmas," Dietsch muses. "Whether you’re crafting a film or a game, you’re trying to engage an audience, tell a story, and create an experience.
The tools change, but the goal stays constant."