You may remember that the Join Us trailer debuted during the Xbox Showcase in June, offering a glimpse of a darkly humorous cooperative cult simulation. The teaser showed robed followers riding on pigs, brandishing machine guns, and culminated in a nightmarish vision of Cthulhu‑like tentacles. What didn’t appear in the clip was the infamous snake gun, a quirky weapon that Joe Dietsch, the CEO and creative director of Wolf Haus Games, says was born from a child’s imagination. "One of the developers’ kids asked, ‘What would a snake‑shooting gun look like?’" Dietsch recalls.

"Because we had built a flexible weapon system, I could prototype it in about thirty minutes. The kid was thrilled, and the snake gun made it into the final build." That anecdote captures the chaotic, over‑the‑top gameplay that Join Us promises: an open‑world sandbox where players can amass followers—or invite friends in co‑op—to build a 1970s‑style cult empire. It also illustrates the studio’s technology‑first philosophy, which has enabled a high‑fidelity, large‑scale title to be produced by a remarkably small crew. Michael Abbott, Wolf Haus’s chief operating officer, summed it up succinctly: “We set out to be disruptors.” "Everyone told us a twelve‑person team couldn’t deliver a game of this scope.

We said, ‘Watch us.’" Abbott explains. Their confidence stems from a history of doing big things on shoestring budgets in the indie film world. "We’ve been punching far above our weight for years," he adds. After a marathon of eighty pitches, the studio finally secured equity investment from Krafton and Lifelike Capital, both of which now hold stakes in Wolf Haus.

The founders’ Hollywood pedigree runs deep. Dietsch studied film at Chapman University alongside Louie Gibson, son of Mel Gibson, who also co‑founded Wolf Haus and 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 he turned his attention to Star Citizen. Abbott later produced movies such as Fight for ’84, starring Jamie Foxx. Join Us originated when Dietsch began tinkering with Unreal Engine. "Unreal was free to download, and I’d always loved games, but the barrier to actually creating something felt huge," he says.

He taught himself through YouTube tutorials, built a few small prototypes, and eventually gravitated toward a doomsday‑cult concept that fused survival mechanics with grindhouse cinema aesthetics. He created a proof‑of‑concept demo, assuming it would quickly hit a technical wall. When he showed it to Abbott, the latter recognized its potential and passed it on to Dooma, the studio’s early backer. Dooma’s CFO and narrative director, Dooma Wendschuh, had previously produced and written for film before transitioning to games in the early 2000s.

He founded Sekretagent Productions, providing narrative work for titles like Prince of Persia: The Two Thrones, Assassin’s Creed, and Batman: Arkham Origins. Later, he launched several tech ventures, including the cannabis‑formulation company Ebbu, which sold for roughly C$430 million (US$330 million). After selling Ebbu, Wendschuh bought a remote island restaurant in Canada, intending to retire and enjoy a quiet life.

Yet, in classic Hollywood fashion, an unexpected call from his old roommate Michael Abbott pulled him back. "I was looking at a game Joe had made, and it blew my mind.

It convinced me to come out of retirement," Wendschuh recalls. He 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, an ex‑Ubisoft Montreal programmer, to serve as chief technology officer. With the core team assembled, the next hurdle was funding—an especially tough task during the industry downturn of 2023‑24.

The studio began pitching in the summer of 2023, receiving positive but cautious feedback. After engaging CAA (Creative Artists Agency) in Los Angeles and refining their pitch, they secured a seed round from Lifelike Capital and Krafton in 2024. Wendschuh believes the CAA connection, which also represents titles like 007: First Light, was instrumental, as was the presence of seasoned veterans Schneider and Chartrand. "My agent Derek Douglas had represented me for twelve years in games and previously headed the video‑game department at William Morris," Wendschuh notes.

Despite the pedigree, Join Us is being built by only thirteen full‑time staff members. Dietsch emphasizes that the small‑team ethos is intentional: everyone should have a voice, touch the creative process, and feel ownership over the final product. To make such an ambitious game feasible, the studio invested heavily in custom tooling early on. "Any system in the game must be scalable and debuggable by a single person," Dietsch explains.

"We built a toolkit that lets us expand features across a massive open world without the project collapsing under its own weight. The first year was as much about building those tools as it was about designing gameplay." The equity funding model gave Wolf Haus the runway to perfect these tools. "Krafton and Lifelike’s investment funds the development directly, making the game essentially self‑funded," says Wendschuh.

He adds that the investors’ equity stake aligns their interests with the studio’s long‑term value, encouraging the team to continue building robust tools even when it slows short‑term progress. When asked about generative AI, Dietsch gives a clear answer: the studio does not rely on it for creative work. "We believe a human touch is essential. Using AI to generate core game content would defeat why we get up each morning," he says.

Wendschuh concedes that they use AI for mundane tasks like calendar management and email drafting, but not for any artistic or design decisions. Ironically, Krafton, which has branded 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 Krafton‑owned Neon Giant, which publicly distanced itself from the parent’s AI push. Both studios argue that AI threatens jobs for voice actors, artists, and other creatives.

Accordingly, the six‑kilometer‑square map in Join Us is handcrafted, and its 15,000 voice lines were recorded by human performers—a point the team views as a badge of pride. Dietsch reflects on the contrast between filmmaking and game development. In cinema, an idea can take years to materialize, subject to layers of approval and the need for high‑profile talent to secure financing.

"You write a script, wait three or five years, and then hope a studio greenlights it," he says. Game development, by contrast, offers immediacy: "You can have an idea at breakfast and see it in the engine by lunch. That instant feedback is exhilarating." Wendschuh adds that film production is heavily front‑loaded, with intense, short‑term bursts of activity on set, followed by long periods of post‑production and distribution hurdles.

While anyone can shoot a low‑budget film with a backyard camera, breaking through without star power or a distribution deal is rare. Games, however, have far fewer gatekeepers; a small indie can reach a global audience without A‑list actors or directors.

Both men agree that the core creative impulse is the same across mediums: to craft an experience, tell a story, and engage an audience. Dietsch’s childhood fascination with both movies and video games set him on a path that could have diverged at any moment. "Whether you’re making a film or a game, you’re delivering an experience and a narrative," he concludes, underscoring the shared spirit that drives Wolf Haus’s ambitious, twelve‑person venture.