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 zip around on pigs, unleash a barrage of machine‑gun fire, and the sequence culminates with an image of colossal, Cthulhu‑like tentacles. One element that didn’t make the final cut was the infamous snake gun, a feature that Joe Dietsch, the chief executive officer and creative director of Wolf Haus Games, says was born from a child’s off‑hand suggestion.
"One of the developer’s kids asked, ‘What would a snake‑shooting gun look like?’ We had a rapid‑prototyping tool that lets us scale weapons in minutes, so within half an hour I built a gun that fires serpents. The kid was ecstatic, and the weapon stayed in the game," Dietsch recounts.
This anecdote captures the chaotic, improvisational spirit that defines Join Us, an open‑world sandbox survival title where players can amass followers—or invite friends in co‑op mode—to join 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. Michael Abbott, Wolf Haus’s chief operating officer, explains the team’s philosophy: "We set out to be disruptors.
We told everyone, ‘We don’t need a hundred‑person studio; twelve people can do it.’ Most people thought we were naïve." Their confidence stems from a background in independent filmmaking, where they learned to achieve ambitious results on shoestring budgets. After 80 pitch meetings, the studio finally secured equity investment from Krafton and Lifelike Capital, giving Wolf Haus the financial backing it needed without diluting its creative control. 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, the production company originally founded by Chris Roberts before his transition to the Star Citizen universe. Abbott’s résumé also includes producing credits on movies such as Fight for ’84 starring Jamie Foxx. Join Us originated from Dietsch’s experiments in Unreal Engine. "Unreal was free to download, and I’d always loved games but felt blocked by the high entry barrier for creating my own," he says.
He taught himself the engine through YouTube tutorials, eventually crafting a handful of small prototypes before committing to a larger vision. The concept—a doomsday cult simulator that fuses survival mechanics with grindhouse cinema aesthetics—kept resurfacing because it married his passions for both film and interactive media. The initial proof‑of‑concept was a “take‑it‑as‑far‑as‑you‑can” experiment, designed to reveal any technical roadblocks early on.
Dietsch showed the demo to Abbott, who then presented it to Dooma, a venture that would later become a key partner. Dooma Wendschuh, the studio’s chief financial officer and narrative director, began his career as a film producer and screenwriter before transitioning to games in the early 2000s.
He founded Sekretagent Productions, providing narrative services for titles such as 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 purchased a remote island restaurant in Canada, intending to retire.
Yet a call from his old Hollywood‑hill roommate, Michael Abbott, pulled him back into development. "I was ready to enjoy beach days and walk my dog, but when Joe showed me his prototype, it blew my mind and convinced me to come out of retirement," Wendschuh recalls. He introduced the project to Reid Schneider, a former Warner Bros.
Games vice president now heading Raccoon Logic, the creators of 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 assembled, the next hurdle was funding—a daunting task given the industry’s downturn in the summer of 2023. Initial pitches generated interest but also skepticism. The studio enlisted CAA (Creative Artists Agency) in Los Angeles to represent them, returning to the market in 2024. Their persistence paid off when Lifelike Capital and Krafton closed a seed round, providing the capital needed to continue development.
Wendschuh notes that CAA’s representation, alongside seasoned veterans like Schneider and Chartrand, was instrumental. "My agent Derek Douglas, who handled my game‑development career for twelve years, also heads the video‑game division at William Morris.
That pedigree opened doors," he says. Despite the high‑profile backing, Join Us is being built by a lean crew of just 13 full‑time staff members. Dietsch emphasizes that the small‑team structure fosters a collaborative environment where every voice matters and each person can directly influence the creative direction.
To make such an ambitious open‑world title feasible, the studio invested heavily in custom tooling from day one. "Any system in the game must be scalable and debuggable by a single developer," Dietsch explains. "We built a robust toolkit early so that when features expand across the six‑kilometre‑square map, the project doesn’t collapse under its own weight." The funding model further supports this approach. Krafton and Lifelike’s equity stakes mean the studio can self‑fund development, using the investors’ capital to cover production costs while only seeking additional project finance for marketing later on.
"Equity investors want the studio to increase its enterprise value, so they encourage us to build extensive tools. It may slow us down in the short term, but it enables a tiny team to deliver a game of this scale," Wendschuh says. When asked about generative AI, the team is unequivocal: they do not employ it for creative work.
"We believe a human touch is essential. Using AI to generate content would undermine the very reason we get up every morning," Dietsch asserts.
Wendschuh adds that while they may use AI for mundane tasks like calendar management, it never touches the artistic side of development. Interestingly, Krafton—publicly branding itself as an "AI‑first" company—insisted that Wolf Haus avoid generative AI in the creative pipeline, mirroring a similar stance taken by Neon Giant, another Krafton‑owned studio. The studio’s commitment to handcrafted content extends to the game’s world and audio.
The entire map is manually designed, and all 15,000 voice lines are performed by human actors, a decision Dietsch says was non‑negotiable even for an indie project. Dietsch reflects on the contrast between film and game creation. In cinema, an idea can take years to materialize, requiring approvals, casting, and extensive pre‑production. In game development, an inspiration can be prototyped within hours, allowing immediate iteration.
"You can have an idea at breakfast and see it in the engine by lunch. That immediacy is exhilarating," he notes. Wendschuh observes that film production is front‑loaded with high‑stakes negotiations for talent and studio backing, whereas games have fewer gatekeepers. "Anyone can rent a camera and shoot a backyard movie, but without star power or distribution, success is rare.
In games, the barriers are lower; you don’t need an A‑list actor or director to reach an audience," he explains. Both founders agree that the core creative impulse—telling stories and delivering experiences—remains the same across mediums. Dietsch recalls his childhood fascination with both movies and programming, saying, "Whether you’re making a film or a game, you’re crafting an experience, a narrative, and an emotional connection.
The medium changes, but the goal stays identical."