The buzz around Join Us first erupted when its trailer lit up the Xbox Showcase in June, offering a glimpse of a darkly humorous cooperative cult simulator. The teaser showed robed disciples riding pig‑mounted vehicles, blasting foes with machine guns, and culminating in a nightmarish vision of colossal, Cthulhu‑like tentacles. What didn’t appear in that short clip was the infamous "snake gun"—a weapon that, according to Joe Dietsch, the CEO and creative director of Wolf Haus Games, was born out of a child’s off‑hand suggestion. "One of our team member’s kids asked, ‘What if there was a gun that shot snakes?’" Dietsch recalls.
"Because we had built a modular weapon system, I could prototype it in about thirty minutes. The kid went nuts, 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 recruit followers—or invite friends in co‑op mode—to build a 1970s‑style cult empire. It also illustrates the studio’s technology‑first mindset, which has allowed a tiny crew to punch well above its weight.
Michael Abbott, Wolf Haus’s chief operating officer, summed it up succinctly: “We set out to be disruptors. Everyone told us you needed a hundred‑person studio to make a high‑fidelity title. We proved them wrong with just twelve core developers.” The team’s confidence stems from a history of achieving big results on shoestring budgets. “We come from indie filmmaking,” Abbott says.
“We’re used to doing more with less.” After a grueling 80‑pitch marathon, the studio finally secured equity financing from Krafton and Lifelike Capital, both of which took stakes in Wolf Haus. The founders’ Hollywood pedigree runs 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 outfit founded by Chris Roberts before his Star Citizen venture.
Abbott later produced films such as Fight for ’84, starring Jamie Foxx. Join Us originated from Dietsch’s early experiments in Unreal Engine. “I discovered Unreal was free to download and thought, ‘Why not give it a try?’ I’d been a gamer forever, but creating something felt like a massive barrier. I started learning from YouTube tutorials and built a few tiny prototypes.” Even without formal training, Dietsch managed to ship a couple of small games before deciding to tackle something larger.
The seed of Join Us was a fascination with a doomsday cult simulator that blended survival mechanics with grindhouse cinema aesthetics—a hybrid of his favorite film and game tropes. He built a proof‑of‑concept demo, expecting to hit a technical wall quickly.
When he showed the demo to Abbott, the latter saw its potential and introduced it to Dooma, a production partner. Dooma Wendschuh, Wolf Haus’s CFO and narrative director, began his career as a producer and screenwriter in Hollywood before moving into game writing 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. In the 2010s he launched several tech ventures, most notably the cannabis formulation company Ebbu, which later sold for roughly C$430 million (US$330 million).
After cashing out, Wendschuh bought a remote island restaurant in Canada, intending to retire. Yet, in classic Hollywood fashion, a call from his old roommate Michael Abbott pulled him back. "He said a friend had made a video game and wanted my opinion. I watched the demo, and it blew my mind.
I came out of retirement to help," Wendschuh recounts. He then brought on Reid Schneider, former VP at Warner Bros. Games and now head of Raccoon Logic, as a strategic advisor, and recruited Pierre‑Olivier Chartrand, a former Ubisoft Montreal programmer, to serve as chief technology officer. With the core team in place, the next hurdle was funding—an uphill battle during the industry downturn of 2023‑2024.
The studio pitched relentlessly, eventually partnering with Creative Artists Agency (CAA) in Los Angeles, which helped secure the seed round from Lifelike Capital and Krafton. "Having CAA on our side, along with veterans like Schneider and Chartrand, gave us credibility at a time when investors were nervous," says Dietsch. Despite the high‑profile backing, the studio has remained lean: only 13 full‑time staff members.
"We wanted a small‑team culture where everyone has a voice and can touch every part of the creative process," Dietsch explains. To make a sprawling open‑world game feasible for such a small crew, the studio invested heavily in custom tooling early on. "Any system we build must be scalable and debuggable by a single person. We spent the first year iterating on the game concept while simultaneously building the tools that would let us expand without the project collapsing under its own weight." The equity financing model gave Wolf Haus the runway to perfect those tools.
"Krafton and Lifelike’s investment essentially self‑funded the development. We’re now using a modest amount of project finance for marketing, but the core game was built with their equity capital," Wendschuh notes. This arrangement aligns the investors’ interests with the studio’s long‑term value creation, encouraging the team to keep building reusable tools rather than taking shortcuts.
When asked about generative AI, a hot topic in game development, Dietsch is unequivocal: the studio does not use it for creative work. "We believe a game needs a human touch. Relying on AI to generate assets would defeat the purpose of why we love making games," he says.
Wendschuh adds that while they have a few AI‑powered subscriptions for mundane tasks like calendar management, none of those tools touch the artistic side of development. Interestingly, Krafton—publicly branding itself as an "AI‑first" company—explicitly required Wolf Haus to avoid generative AI in the creative pipeline, echoing similar statements from Krafton‑owned Neon Giant.
The team’s commitment to handcrafted content extends to the game’s world and audio. The six‑kilometre‑square map is entirely hand‑built, and the 15,000 voice lines were recorded by human actors, not synthetic voices. "That was non‑negotiable for us," Dietsch emphasizes, even as an indie studio.
Dietsch also reflects on the differences between film and games. In cinema, an idea can take years to materialize, subject to studio approvals and the availability of A‑list talent.
In contrast, a game concept can be prototyped within hours and tested directly in the engine. "You can have an idea at breakfast and see it in the game by lunch.
That immediacy is exhilarating," he says. Wendschuh points out that film production is heavily front‑loaded, with massive pre‑production costs and gatekeepers.
While anyone can shoot a low‑budget movie with a backyard camera, breaking through without star power or a distribution deal is rare. Game development, however, has fewer gatekeepers; a small team can reach a global audience without needing A‑list actors or directors. Both founders agree that the core creative impulse—telling a story and delivering an experience—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 getting a camera for Christmas. I learned programming on a TI‑83, so I’ve always been straddling both worlds," Dietsch muses.
"Whether it’s film or a game, you’re crafting an experience, a narrative, and an emotional connection. The tools change, but the goal stays the same."