The trailer for Join Us first appeared during the Xbox Showcase in June, offering a glimpse of a darkly humorous cooperative cult simulator. In the clip, robed followers zip around on pigs, wielding machine guns, before the screen fades to an image of colossal, Cthulhu‑like tentacles.
One element that didn’t make the final edit was the infamous snake gun, a feature that Joe Dietsch, CEO and creative director of Wolf Haus Games, proudly recalls. "One of the team member’s kids suggested a snake‑gun," Dietsch explains. "We had a modular weapon system, so in about thirty minutes I built a gun that fires snakes.
The kid was blown away, and we kept it in the game." That anecdote captures the chaotic, improvisational spirit of Join Us, an open‑world sandbox survival title where players can recruit followers—or friends in co‑op mode—to build a 1970s‑style cult. It also illustrates the studio’s technology‑first mindset, which has allowed a small crew to produce a high‑fidelity experience that would normally require a much larger staff. "We wanted to be disruptors," says Michael Abbott, Wolf Haus’s chief operating officer.
"We told everyone we could build this with twelve people. Most people laughed and said it was impossible." The team’s confidence stems from a history of achieving big results on modest budgets. "We come from indie film,” Abbott notes, “so we’re used to punching far above our weight." After 80 pitches, Wolf Haus finally secured equity investment from Krafton and Lifelike Capital, giving the studio the runway it needed.
Wolf Haus’s founders have deep roots in Hollywood. Dietsch studied film at Chapman University alongside Louie Gibson, son of Mel Gibson, who later co‑founded the studio.
The two 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 moved on to Star Citizen. 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 started tinkering after watching YouTube tutorials," he says. Though he had never built a game before, he managed to create a few small prototypes before deciding to tackle something larger. The core idea—a doomsday cult simulator that blends survival mechanics with grindhouse cinema aesthetics—kept pulling him back. He built a proof‑of‑concept demo, expecting to hit a technical wall at some point.
When he showed it to Abbott, the latter took the project to Dooma, a partner that helped shape the early vision. Dooma’s CFO and narrative director, Dooma Wendschuh, began his career as a film producer and screenwriter before moving into 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, most notably 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.
Yet, in classic Hollywood fashion, a call from his old roommate Michael Abbott pulled him back. "I watched the demo Joe sent me and it blew my mind," Wendschuh says, prompting him to re‑enter the industry. He introduced the game 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 the core team in place, the next hurdle was financing—a daunting task given the industry’s downturn in mid‑2023. The studio began pitching that summer, initially receiving polite interest but little commitment. After signing with CAA (Creative Artists Agency) in Los Angeles and re‑launching the pitch in 2024, Wolf Haus finally closed a seed round with Lifelike Capital and Krafton.
Wendschuh credits the CAA connection—whose roster includes titles like 007: First Light—as well as the credibility of veterans Schneider and Chartrand for opening doors. Despite the high‑profile backing, Join Us is being built by just 13 full‑time staff members. "We entered the project with a clear sense of scope and a desire to keep the team small and collaborative," Dietsch explains. Everyone is expected to have a voice, touch the creative process, and feel ownership of the final product.
To make such an ambitious open‑world game feasible with a lean crew, Wolf Haus invested heavily in custom tooling from the outset. "Any system in the game must be scalable and debuggable by a single person," Dietsch says. The studio spent a large portion of the first year simultaneously designing gameplay and building the internal tools that would allow those designs to scale across a six‑kilometre‑square map without collapsing under their own weight. This tool‑first philosophy also aligns with the investors’ expectations.
"Krafton and Lifelike are equity partners; their money funds the game directly, and they support our tool‑building ethos because it adds long‑term value to the studio," notes Wendschuh. When asked about the role of generative AI, the team is unequivocal: they do not use it for any creative purpose.
"We believe a game needs a human touch. Hand‑crafted voice work, hand‑drawn environments, and hand‑tuned mechanics are core to our identity," Dietsch states.
Wendschuh adds that the only AI tools they employ are mundane productivity aids—calendar scheduling and email drafting. Krafton, despite branding itself as an "AI‑first" company, specifically required that Wolf Haus avoid generative AI in the creative pipeline, mirroring a similar stance taken by Krafton‑owned Neon Giant. The commitment to human‑generated content is evident in the game's scale: the entire map is manually constructed, and the 15,000 voice lines are recorded by real actors. "Even as a tiny indie studio, we felt it was essential to keep that authenticity," Dietsch says.
Dietsch also reflects on the differences between film and game development. In cinema, an idea can take years to materialise, requiring approvals, casting, and massive budgets before a director sees it on set.
In contrast, a game concept can be prototyped in a single morning, inserted into the engine, and instantly visualised. This immediacy fuels his enthusiasm for interactive media. Wendschuh points out that film production is heavily front‑loaded: securing a high‑profile director or star is often the gatekeeper to green‑lighting a project.
While anyone can technically shoot a low‑budget movie with a backyard camera, breaking through without marquee names or distribution is rare. Game development, by contrast, has far fewer gatekeepers. "You don’t need an A‑list actor or director to make a successful game," he observes, noting that the lower barrier to entry increases the odds for small teams.
Both men agree that the underlying creative drive is the same across mediums: to craft an experience, tell a story, and engage an audience. Whether through film or interactive play, the goal remains to transport people into a world of your own making.