The trailer for Join Us first appeared during the Xbox Showcase in June, offering a glimpse of a darkly humorous co‑op cult simulation. In the clip, robed followers ride on pigs, wield machine guns, and the sequence culminates with a nightmarish vision of colossal, Cthulhu‑like tentacles.
One detail that didn’t make the final cut was the infamous snake gun, a quirky weapon that, according to Joe Dietsch—CEO and creative director of Wolf Haus Games—was born from a child’s off‑hand suggestion. "One of the team members’ kids asked, ‘What would a snake‑shooter look like?’ We had a rapid‑prototyping tool for firearms, so within half an hour I built a gun that fires serpents. He was thrilled, and the weapon stayed in the game," Dietsch recalls. That anecdote captures the chaotic, over‑the‑top gameplay that Join Us promises: an open‑world sandbox where players can recruit followers—or teammates—to build a 1970s‑style cult empire.
It also highlights the studio’s technology‑first mindset, which has enabled a small crew to produce a visually rich, large‑scale experience. Michael Abbott, Wolf Haus’s chief operating officer, summed up their ambition: "We set out to be disruptors. While everyone assumed you needed a hundred‑person roster, we argued we could deliver the same scope with just twelve developers. Most people laughed at the idea, but our indie‑film background taught us how to punch far above our weight." Wolf Haus’s founders indeed have deep roots in Hollywood.
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 founded by Chris Roberts before he turned his attention to Star Citizen. Abbott later produced movies such as Fight for ’84 starring Jamie Foxx.
The genesis of Join Us traces back to Dietsch tinkering with Unreal Engine. "Unreal was free to download, and I’d always loved games but felt blocked by the steep entry barrier for creation.
I started learning from YouTube tutorials and built a few tiny prototypes," he explains. Though he had no formal game‑dev training, Dietsch soon crafted a couple of modest titles before deciding to tackle something bigger: a doomsday cult simulator that fused his love of survival mechanics with grindhouse cinema aesthetics. He built a proof‑of‑concept demo, ran into technical roadblocks, and presented the rough version to Abbott, who then introduced it to Dooma.
Dooma Wendschuh, Wolf Haus’s CFO and narrative director, entered the picture after a varied career spanning film production, screenwriting, and video‑game narrative work. In the early 2000s he founded Sekretagent Productions, supplying writing talent 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 firm Ebbu, which sold for roughly C$430 million (US$330 million). After cashing out, Wendschuh bought a remote island restaurant in Canada, intending to retire.
Yet a sudden call from his former Hollywood‑Hills roommate, Michael Abbott, pulled him back into development. "I watched the early demo and it blew my mind, so I came out of retirement," Wendschuh says. Through Wendschuh’s network, the studio recruited Reid Schneider—formerly a vice‑president at Warner Bros. Games and now head of Raccoon Logic, the team behind Journey to the Savage Planet—as a strategic advisor.
Schneider also brought on Pierre‑Olivier Chartrand, a former Ubisoft Montreal programmer, to serve as chief technology officer. With this core assembled, the next hurdle was financing, which proved difficult amid an industry downturn in mid‑2023. Initial pitches generated interest but no commitments.
After partnering with CAA in Los Angeles and refining their pitch, Wolf Haus secured seed funding from Krafton and Lifelike Capital in 2024, each taking an equity stake. The backing from Krafton and Lifelike was crucial because it allowed Wolf Haus to self‑fund development rather than rely on short‑term loans. "The investors are equity partners, so the money they provided goes directly into the game’s budget," explains Wendschuh. "We’ve even taken on a modest project‑finance line for marketing, but the core development is entirely covered by their equity investment." A defining element of the studio’s workflow is its emphasis on custom tooling.
With only a dozen full‑time staff, the team needed systems that could be built, debugged, and scaled by a single developer. "Every gameplay system must be maintainable by one person," says Dietsch. "We spent a huge portion of the first year inventing the tools that would let us expand the open world without the project collapsing under its own weight. Those tools will also serve future titles." Despite the buzz around generative AI in game creation, Wolf Haus deliberately avoids it for creative tasks.
"We believe a game should retain a human touch. Using AI to generate core content would undermine why we get up each morning," Dietsch states. Wendschuh adds that the studio only uses AI for mundane tasks like calendar management and email drafting. Krafton, which markets itself as an "AI‑first" company, actually discouraged the use of generative AI in Wolf Haus’s pipeline, preferring to fund a studio that relies on human artistry.
This stance mirrors that of Neon Giant, another Krafton‑owned studio that publicly rejected AI‑driven development. The commitment to handcrafted content is evident in Join Us’s six‑kilometre‑square map, which was built entirely by hand, and its 15,000 voice lines, all recorded by professional actors. "Even as a small indie, we felt it was essential that every pixel and every line of dialogue be human‑made," Dietsch emphasizes. Dietsch also reflects on the contrast between filmmaking and game development.
In film, an idea can take years to materialise, requiring studio approval, casting, and a lengthy production schedule. In games, a concept can be prototyped in a single morning and instantly visualised within the engine. "That immediacy is exhilarating," he says. Wendschuh notes that while film production is front‑loaded with high‑stakes negotiations for A‑list talent, games have far fewer gatekeepers.
"You don’t need a superstar actor or director to get greenlit; the barrier to entry is much lower," he explains. Both mediums, however, share a core purpose: delivering an experience, telling a story, and engaging an audience. Dietsch’s childhood fascination with both cameras and code set him on a path that could have led to either industry.
"Whether you’re making a movie or a game, you’re crafting a narrative that resonates with people," he concludes. Join Us therefore stands as a testament to what a tight‑knit, technically savvy team can achieve when they combine Hollywood pedigree, entrepreneurial savvy, and a refusal to outsource creativity to algorithms. The result is a sprawling, player‑driven cult simulator that promises both absurdist fun and a meticulously crafted world—all built by a dozen passionate developers who chose to keep the human element at the heart of their creation.