The trailer for Join Us first appeared during the Xbox Showcase in June, offering a glimpse of a darkly humorous cooperative cult simulator where robed followers zip around on pigs, wield absurd weaponry and eventually confront colossal, Cthulhu‑like tentacles. One of the most memorable, yet omitted, moments was the appearance of a snake‑shooter gun, a feature that Joe Dietsch, the CEO and creative director of Wolf Haus Games, says originated from a child’s off‑hand suggestion.
"One of the team member’s sons asked, ‘What would a snake gun look like?’ We had a rapid‑prototyping tool for firearms, so within half an hour I built a weapon that fires snakes. The kid was thrilled, and the gun stayed in the final build," Dietsch recounts. That anecdote captures the chaotic, over‑the‑top gameplay that Join Us promises: an open‑world sandbox survival experience where players can recruit followers—or invite friends in co‑op mode—to join a 1970s‑style cult. It also illustrates the studio’s tech‑first philosophy, which has enabled a high‑fidelity, content‑rich title to be produced by a remarkably small crew.
Michael Abbott, Wolf Haus’s chief operating officer, explains the team’s mindset: "We set out to be disruptors. Everyone told us a twelve‑person team couldn’t deliver a game of this scope. We proved them wrong." Wolf Haus’s founders come from a deep well of Hollywood experience.
Dietsch studied film at Chapman University, where he met Louie Gibson—son of Mel Gibson—and together they co‑wrote and co‑directed indie features such as Happy Hunting and Manifest West. Abbott is the son of veteran makeup artist Larry Abbott and helped launch Ascendant Pictures, the production company founded by Chris Roberts before his transition to Star Citizen. Abbott later produced films like Fight for ’84, starring Jamie Foxx. This cinematic background gave the team a comfort with small budgets and a knack for punching well above their weight, a skill they transferred to game development.
The genesis of Join Us was almost accidental. Dietsch began tinkering with Unreal Engine after discovering it was free to download.
"I’d loved games for years, but the barrier to actually creating something felt huge. I started learning from YouTube tutorials and built a few tiny prototypes," he says. The idea that stuck was a doomsday cult simulator that blended survival mechanics with grindhouse cinema aesthetics. He built a proof‑of‑concept demo, ran into technical limits, and then showed the prototype to Abbott, who took it to Dooma, a partner studio.
Dooma Wendschuh, Wolf Haus’s CFO and narrative director, entered the picture after a varied career that spanned film production, screenwriting, and video‑game writing for titles such as Prince of Persia: The Two Thrones, Assassin’s Creed, and Batman: Arkham Origins. In the 2010s he founded several tech ventures, most notably the cannabis formulation company Ebbu, which sold for roughly C$430 million. After selling Ebbu, Wendschuh bought a remote island restaurant in Canada, planning a quiet retirement. That plan was upended when his old Hollywood‑hill roommate, Michael Abbott, called and invited him to evaluate a game Joe Dietsch had built.
"The demo blew my mind and pulled me out of retirement," Wendschuh recalls. He then introduced the project to Reid Schneider, a former Warner Bros.
Games VP now heading Raccoon Logic, and Schneider recruited Pierre‑Olivier Chartrand, a former Ubisoft Montreal programmer, as chief technology officer. With a core team forming, the next hurdle was financing. The studio began pitching in the summer of 2023, a period marked by an industry downturn. Initial reactions were positive but cautious.
After signing with Creative Artists Agency (CAA) in Los Angeles, the team renewed its outreach in 2024 and eventually secured a seed round from Krafton and Lifelike Capital, both taking equity stakes. Wendschuh notes that CAA’s representation—also handling titles like 007: First Light—combined with the credibility of veteran advisors helped break through the funding slump.
Despite the high‑profile backers, Wolf Haus deliberately kept its staff lean: thirteen full‑time employees at the height of development. Dietsch emphasizes that a small team fosters a unified creative voice: "Everyone contributes to design, narrative, and implementation. It feels like a game built by a tight‑knit group rather than a faceless corporation." To make a sprawling, open‑world title feasible for such a compact crew, the studio invested heavily in custom tooling from day one.
"Any system we build must be scalable and debuggable by a single person," Dietsch explains. The first year of development was split between iterating on game concepts and constructing the internal toolset that would later allow those concepts to expand across a six‑kilometre‑square map without collapsing under their own weight.
This tool‑centric approach also aligns with the investors’ expectations. "Krafton and Lifelike fund the studio, so we can self‑finance the game.
Their equity interest encourages us to build reusable tools, even if it slows short‑term progress," Wendschuh adds. When asked about generative AI, the team is unequivocal: they do not employ it for any creative tasks. "We believe a human touch is essential.
Using AI to generate assets would defeat the purpose of why we love making games," says Dietsch. Wendschuh concedes that the studio uses AI only for administrative chores like calendar management and email drafting. Krafton, despite branding itself as an "AI‑first" company, explicitly required that Wolf Haus refrain from using generative AI in the game's creation, mirroring a similar stance taken by Krafton‑owned Neon Giant.
The commitment to handcrafted content is evident throughout Join Us. The entire six‑kilometre map is manually designed, and the game features roughly 15,000 voice lines recorded by professional actors—not synthetic voices. "Even as a small indie studio, we felt it was crucial to preserve that level of human artistry," Dietsch affirms.
Dietsch also reflects on the contrast between film and game development. In cinema, an idea can take years to materialise, requiring countless approvals and the involvement of high‑profile talent before a camera ever rolls. By contrast, a game idea can be prototyped within hours, inserted into an engine, and instantly visualised.
"That immediacy is exhilarating; you can take a concept from a morning brainstorm to a playable test by the afternoon," he says. Wendschuh notes that while filmmaking is front‑loaded with pre‑production hurdles—securing directors, actors, and studio greenlights—game development faces fewer gatekeepers.
"Anyone can rent a camera and shoot a backyard movie, but without star power or distribution, success is unlikely. In games, the barrier to entry is lower, and a compelling experience can find an audience without A‑list names," he observes.
Both creators agree that the core motivation behind both mediums is storytelling and experience design. Dietsch recalls that as a child he wanted to make either movies or games, and the path he followed was largely a matter of circumstance.
"Whether you’re crafting a film or a game, you’re trying to immerse someone in a story, to make them feel something. The tools change, but the creative impulse stays the same." Join Us thus stands as a testament to what a small, dedicated team with Hollywood pedigree, savvy business acumen, and a refusal to rely on generative AI can achieve.
By blending a cult‑themed narrative with sandbox survival mechanics, and by building the entire world by hand, Wolf Haus aims to deliver a unique, player‑driven experience that challenges industry assumptions about scale, technology, and creative ownership.