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 charge on pigs 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 our team member’s kids suggested a snake‑gun," Dietsch recalls.
"We had a rapid‑prototyping tool that let us spin up a new weapon in about thirty minutes, so I built a gun that fires snakes on the fly. The kid went nuts, and the weapon stayed in the final build." That anecdote captures the chaotic, over‑the‑top gameplay that Join Us promises: an open‑world sandbox where players can recruit followers—or invite friends in co‑op mode—to join a 1970s‑style doomsday cult. It also illustrates the studio’s tech‑first philosophy, which has enabled a high‑fidelity, large‑scale title to be produced by a remarkably small crew.
Michael Abbott, Wolf Haus’s chief operating officer, summed it up: "We set out to be disruptors. We told ourselves, ‘We don’t need a hundred people; twelve is enough.’ Everyone else thought we were crazy." The team’s confidence stems from a history of doing big things on shoestring budgets.
"We come from indie film,” Abbott says, “so we’re used to punching far above our weight." After 80 pitches, Wolf Haus finally secured equity funding from Krafton and Lifelike Capital, both of which took stakes in the studio. The founders’ Hollywood pedigree runs 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 founded by Chris Roberts before his shift to Star Citizen.
Abbott later produced movies such as Fight for ’84, starring Jamie Foxx. Join Us was born when Dietsch began experimenting with Unreal Engine. "Unreal was free to download, and I’d always loved games.
The barrier to creating something felt huge, so I started learning from YouTube tutorials and tinkering on my own," he explains. Though he had never built a commercial game before, he managed a few small prototypes before deciding to tackle something more ambitious: a doomsday cult simulator that fused survival mechanics with grindhouse cinema aesthetics. He built a proof‑of‑concept demo and showed it to Abbott, who then presented it to Dooma, the studio’s early‑stage partner. Dooma’s CFO and narrative director, Dooma Wendschuh, had previously worked as a producer and screenwriter in Hollywood before moving into games in the early 2000s.
He founded Sekretagent Productions, which supplied narrative work for titles like Prince of Persia: The Two Thrones, Assassin’s Creed, and Batman: Arkham Origins. Later, he launched several tech ventures, including 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, an unexpected call from his old roommate Michael Abbott pulled him back.
"I was ready for the beach and my dog, but Joe’s demo blew my mind and convinced me to come out of retirement," Wendschuh says. He introduced the project to Reid Schneider, a former Warner Bros. Games VP now heading 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 assembled, the next hurdle was financing—a daunting task during the industry downturn of 2023‑24. The studio began pitching in summer 2023, receiving positive but cautious feedback. After enlisting CAA (Creative Artists Agency) as representation, they returned to the market in 2024 and finally closed a seed round with Lifelike Capital and Krafton. Wendschuh credits the CAA connection—whose roster includes titles like 007: First Light—and the presence of veteran game makers such as Schneider and Chartrand for smoothing the path.
"My agent Derek Douglas had represented me for twelve years in games and previously led the video‑game department at William Morris," he notes. What truly sets Join Us apart is the scale of its ambition relative to the size of the team: only 13 full‑time staff members. Dietsch emphasizes that the studio entered the project with a clear understanding of scope while insisting on a small‑team culture where every voice matters and every member can influence the creative direction.
To make such a sprawling open‑world possible, Wolf Haus invested heavily in internal tooling from day one. "Any system in the game must be scalable and debuggable by a single person," Dietsch explains.
"We built a toolkit that lets us expand features across a massive map without the project collapsing under its own weight." The first year of development was therefore split between ideating gameplay and constructing the underlying tools—a strategy that also prepares the studio for future projects. The funding model reinforced this approach. Krafton and Lifelike’s equity investment allowed Wolf Haus to self‑fund the entire development, with only a modest amount of project finance earmarked for marketing. "Equity partners are motivated to increase the studio’s enterprise value, so they support our tool‑building ethos," Wendschuh says.
"Whenever we hit a problem we don’t know how to solve, we simply create a tool. 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 the industry—Dietsch gives a blunt answer: the studio does not use it for creative work. "We believe a human touch is essential. Turning development over to an AI would defeat the reason we get up every morning," he says.
Wendschuh adds that while the team may use AI for mundane tasks like calendar management, it never touches the artistic side of production. Even Krafton, which has recently branded itself an “AI‑first” company, insisted that Wolf Haus avoid generative AI in the creative pipeline.
The Korean publisher wanted assurance that its investment would not be used to produce AI‑generated content, mirroring similar statements from Neon Giant, another Krafton‑owned studio. The commitment to handcrafted content is evident throughout Join Us. The six‑kilometre‑square map is entirely hand‑built, and the game features roughly 15,000 voice lines recorded by human actors—an impressive feat for an indie‑scale operation.
Dietsch reflects on the contrast between film and games, noting the immediacy of the latter. In cinema, an idea can take years to materialize, requiring approvals and massive coordination. In game development, an idea can be prototyped in a single morning, placed into the engine, and instantly visualized.
This rapid feedback loop fuels his enthusiasm. 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 movie with a backyard camera, breaking through without marquee names or distribution is rare.
By contrast, the video‑game market has far fewer gatekeepers, allowing a small team to achieve success without A‑list talent. Both founders agree that the core creative impulse—telling a story and delivering an experience—remains the same across mediums. "When I was six, I wanted to make either games or movies; it boiled down to a coin toss and maybe getting a camera for Christmas," Dietsch recalls.
He learned programming on a TI‑83 calculator, blending his love for both worlds. "Whether you’re making a film or a game, you’re crafting an experience, telling a story, and engaging an audience. That fundamental goal doesn’t change."