The trailer for Join Us first appeared during the Xbox Showcase in June, offering a glimpse of a darkly humorous co‑op cult simulator where robed followers zip around on pigs, unleash a barrage of machine‑gun fire, and ultimately confront colossal, Cthulhu‑like tentacles. One of the most memorable, yet unseen, moments in that teaser was the appearance of a snake‑shooting weapon—a quirky idea that originated from a developer’s child. Joe Dietsch, the CEO and creative director of Wolf Haus Games, recounted how his team quickly turned that suggestion into a functional in‑game gun: "We had a tool that let us prototype weapons in half an hour, so I built a snake gun on the spot.
The kid was thrilled, and the weapon stayed in the final build." That anecdote encapsulates the chaotic, improvisational spirit that defines Join Us. The title is an open‑world sandbox survival game where players can recruit AI‑controlled followers or friends in co‑op mode to build a 1970s‑style cult.
The experience is deliberately over‑the‑top, blending grindhouse cinema aesthetics with survival mechanics, and it showcases the studio’s technology‑first philosophy. Michael Abbott, Wolf Haus’s chief operating officer, summed up their ambition: "We set out to be disruptors, proving that a twelve‑person team could deliver a high‑fidelity, large‑scale title without the massive staff numbers typical of AAA development." Abbott explained the skepticism they faced: "Everyone told us it was impossible to build something of this scope with such a lean crew. But we came from indie film backgrounds where we constantly had to punch above our weight, so we were comfortable working with limited resources." After eighty pitches, the studio finally secured equity investment from Krafton and Lifelike Capital, both of which took stakes in Wolf Haus.
The founders’ Hollywood pedigree runs deep. Dietsch studied film at Chapman University alongside Louie Gibson—son of actor‑director Mel Gibson—who later co‑founded Wolf Haus and co‑wrote 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 originally founded by Chris Roberts before his transition to the Star Citizen universe.
Abbott later produced films such as Fight for ’84, starring Jamie Foxx. Join Us originated from Dietsch’s early experiments with Unreal Engine. He described the moment as a revelation: "Unreal Engine was free to download, and I’d been a gamer and a movie fan my whole life, but the barrier to actually creating something felt huge.
I started learning from YouTube tutorials and built a few tiny prototypes." Even without formal training, Dietsch managed to ship small games before deciding to tackle something bigger—a doomsday cult simulator that merged his love for survival gameplay with the gritty vibe of grindhouse movies. He built a proof‑of‑concept prototype, expecting to hit technical limits quickly. When he showed the demo to Abbott, the latter recognized its potential and introduced it to Dooma, a partner who helped refine the vision. Dooma Wendschuh, Wolf Haus’s chief financial officer and narrative director, entered the picture after a varied career in film and gaming.
He began as a producer and screenwriter before founding 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, most notably the cannabis formulation company Ebbu, sold for roughly C$430 million.
After a brief retirement on a remote Canadian island, a call from his old Hollywood‑hillroommate Michael Abbott pulled him back into the industry. Wendschuh was impressed by Dietsch’s prototype and helped secure strategic advice from former Warner Bros. Games VP Reid Schneider, who in turn recruited Ubisoft veteran Pierre‑Olivier Chartrand as chief technology officer.
With a core team of thirteen full‑time staff, Wolf Haus faced the classic startup dilemma: how to deliver an expansive, open‑world experience without the manpower of a traditional studio. Their answer was to invest heavily in custom tooling from day one.
"Every system we build must be scalable and debuggable by a single person," Dietsch explained. "We spend a large portion of the first year ideating the game while simultaneously constructing the tools that will let us expand it without the project collapsing under its own weight." The equity funding from Kraftor and Lifelike provided the runway to perfect these tools. The investors’ capital financed development directly, allowing the studio to remain self‑sufficient.
"Equity partners care about enterprise value, so they encourage us to build robust tools," Wendschuh noted. "When we encounter a problem we can’t solve, we simply create a tool to address it. It may slow short‑term progress, but it enables a tiny team to produce a game of this magnitude." Despite the industry’s growing fascination with generative AI, Wolf Haus deliberately avoids it in the creative pipeline.
Dietsch gave a concise answer: "We don’t use generative AI because we believe a human touch is essential to game making. Turning development over to an algorithm would defeat the purpose of why we love this work." Wendschuh added nuance, acknowledging that the studio uses AI only for mundane tasks like calendar management and email drafting, never for design, art, or writing.
Interestingly, Krafton—a company that recently branded itself as "AI‑first"—insisted that Wolf Haus not employ generative AI for creative work, fearing it could devalue the studio’s artistic output. This stance mirrors that of Neon Giant, another Krafton‑owned studio that publicly distanced itself from the parent’s AI push.
The commitment to handcrafted content runs deep. The six‑kilometre‑square map in Join Us is entirely hand‑built, and the game features roughly 15,000 voice lines recorded by real actors. "Even as a small indie, we felt it was crucial to keep everything human‑made," Dietsch emphasized. Dietsch also reflected on the differences between film and game creation.
In cinema, an idea can take years to materialise, requiring countless approvals and the involvement of high‑profile talent before a studio greenlights production. By contrast, a game idea can be prototyped within hours, placed directly into the engine, and instantly iterated upon.
"You can have a concept in the morning and see it in the engine by lunch," he said, highlighting the immediacy that fuels his passion. Wendschuh observed that filmmaking is heavily front‑loaded, with intense pre‑production phases aimed at securing star directors or actors to attract studio backing. While anyone can shoot a low‑budget film with a backyard camera, breaking through without marquee names or distribution is rare.
Game development, however, presents fewer gatekeepers; a small team can launch a successful title without A‑list talent, making the medium more accessible for creators. Both mediums, though, share a common creative drive: storytelling and immersive experience.
Dietsch recalled his childhood fascination with both games and movies, noting that a simple Christmas gift—a camera—could have steered him toward filmmaking, while early programming on a TI‑83 calculator sparked his love for interactive media. "Whether you’re making a film or a game, you’re trying to tell a story and engage an audience," he concluded, underscoring the timeless nature of the creative impulse that now fuels Wolf Haus’s ambitious cult simulator.