The trailer for Join Us first appeared during the Xbox Showcase in June, offering a glimpse of a darkly humorous co‑op cult simulator. In the clip, robed followers charge on pig‑back while firing machine guns, culminating in a shot of colossal, Cthulhu‑like tentacles. What didn’t make the edit, according to Joe Dietsch—CEO and creative director of Wolf Haus Games—was the infamous snake gun. "One of the team members’ kids suggested a snake‑shooting weapon," Dietsch recalls.
"We had a modular gun system, so I whipped up a snake‑gun in about thirty minutes. The kid was blown away, and the weapon stayed in the final build." That anecdote captures the chaotic, sandbox‑style gameplay at the heart of Join Us, an open‑world survival title where players can recruit AI followers—or friends in co‑op mode—to join a 1970s‑style cult. It also illustrates Wolf Haus’s technology‑first mindset, which has allowed a tiny studio to produce a high‑fidelity experience that would normally require a much larger roster.
"We set out to be disruptors," says Michael Abbott, the studio’s chief operating officer. "We told everyone we could build a AAA‑ish game with a dozen people. Most people laughed." The team’s confidence stems from a background in indie filmmaking, where doing more with less is second nature. "We come from the indie film world and we’re used to punching far above our weight," Abbott explains.
After 80 pitch meetings, Wolf Haus finally secured equity funding from Krafton and Lifelike Capital, giving the studio the financial runway it needed. The founders’ Hollywood pedigree runs deep. Dietsch studied film at Chapman University alongside Louie Gibson—son of Mel Gibson—who 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, a production company founded by Chris Roberts before his Star Citizen venture.
Abbott later produced movies such as Fight for ’84, starring Jamie Foxx. Join Us originated from Dietsch tinkering in Unreal Engine. "I discovered Unreal was free to download and started learning from YouTube tutorials," he says. Though he had never built a game before, he managed to prototype a few small titles before committing to a larger vision: a doomsday cult simulator that blended survival mechanics with grindhouse cinema aesthetics.
The proof‑of‑concept was rough but promising. "I pushed it as far as I could and expected to hit a wall at some point," Dietsch admits. He showed the demo to Abbott, who then presented it to Dooma, a production partner. Dooma’s CFO and narrative director, Dooma Wendschuh, had begun his career as a film producer and screenwriter before moving into games in the early 2000s, contributing writing to titles like Prince of Persia: The Two Thrones, Assassin’s Creed, and Batman: Arkham Origins.
He later founded several tech ventures, including the cannabis formulation company Ebbu, which sold for roughly C$430 million. After selling Ebbu, Wendschuh bought a remote island restaurant in Canada, intending to retire. Yet a call from his old Hollywood Hills roommate, Michael Abbott, pulled him back.
"Joe’s demo blew my mind and convinced me to come out of retirement," Wendschuh says. He then introduced the project to Reid Schneider, a former Warner Bros. Games VP now heading Raccoon Logic, and Schneider recruited former Ubisoft Montreal programmer Pierre‑Olivier Chartrand as chief technology officer.
With a core team forming, the next hurdle was financing—particularly tough during the industry downturn of 2023‑24. Initial pitches generated interest but no commitments. The studio eventually partnered with Creative Artists Agency (CAA) for representation, re‑pitching in 2024 and finally closing a seed round with Lifelike Capital and Krafton. Abbott credits CAA’s network and the presence of seasoned veterans like Schneider and Chartrand for the breakthrough.
"Our agent Derek Douglas had represented me for a decade and previously ran the video‑game department at William Morris," notes Wendschuh. Despite the high ambitions, Join Us is being built by just 13 full‑time staff.
The studio deliberately kept the team small to preserve a collaborative atmosphere where every member can influence creative decisions. To make a large‑scale open world feasible with such a lean crew, Wolf Haus invested heavily in custom tooling early on. "Every system must be scalable and debuggable by a single person," says Dietsch.
"We built a toolkit that lets us expand features across a six‑kilometre‑square map without the project collapsing under its own weight." The equity funding from Krafton and Lifelike allowed Wolf Haus to self‑finance development, using the capital to perfect those tools rather than rushing to market. "Our investors want the studio to increase enterprise value, so they support our tool‑building ethos," explains Wendschuh. "When we encounter a problem we can’t solve, we build a tool for it.
It may slow us down short‑term but it enables a tiny team to deliver a game of this magnitude." When asked about generative AI—a hot topic in game development—Dietsch is unequivocal: the studio does not employ AI for creative work. "We believe a human touch is essential. Using AI to generate core content would defeat the reason we get up each morning," he says. Wendschuh adds that the only AI they use is for administrative tasks like calendar management and email drafting.
Krafton, despite branding 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 pivot.
The commitment to hand‑crafted content extends to the game’s world and voice work. The six‑kilometre‑square map is entirely built by hand, and the 15,000 voice lines were recorded by human actors, not synthetic voices.
"Even as a small indie, we felt it was crucial to keep the experience authentic," Dietsch emphasizes. Dietsch also notes a key advantage of game development over film: immediacy.
In cinema, an idea can take years to materialise, requiring approvals, casting, and extensive pre‑production. In contrast, a game concept can be prototyped the same day it’s conceived, allowing rapid iteration and immediate visual feedback. Wendschuh observes that film production is heavily front‑loaded, with a reliance on securing high‑profile talent to greenlight projects, whereas games face fewer gatekeepers and can succeed without A‑list names. Both mediums, however, share a common creative impulse: storytelling and evoking emotion.
"Whether you’re making a movie or a game, you’re delivering an experience and a narrative," Dietsch reflects. "My love for both started when I was six, and the path I took was essentially a coin toss between a camera and a computer."