You may recall seeing the Join Us trailer during the Xbox Showcase in June. The clip introduced a darkly humorous co‑op cult simulator where robed followers zip around on pigs, wield machine guns, and ultimately confront a Cthulhu‑like mass of tentacles. What the trailer didn’t reveal was the snake‑shooting weapon, a detail that CEO and creative director Joe Dietsch of Wolf Haus Games proudly points out.
"One of the team members’ kids suggested a snake gun," Dietsch explains. "We had a modular weapon system, so in about thirty minutes I built a gun that fires snakes. The kid went nuts, and we kept it in the final build." That anecdote captures the chaotic, improvisational spirit that defines Join Us, an open‑world sandbox survival game where players can recruit followers—or invite friends in co‑op—to join a 1970s‑style cult.
It also illustrates the studio’s technology‑first mindset, which has enabled a high‑fidelity title to be produced by a remarkably small crew. "We set out to be disruptors," says Michael Abbott, Wolf Haus’s chief operating officer. "We told everyone we could build a AAA‑ish experience with just twelve people.
Most thought we were dreaming." The team’s confidence stems from a background in low‑budget, high‑impact filmmaking. "We come from indie cinema and we’re used to punching far above our weight," Abbott notes. 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 house started by Chris Roberts before his Star Citizen venture. Abbott later produced movies such as Fight for ’84, starring Jamie Foxx.
Join Us began as a hobby project in Unreal Engine. "I discovered Unreal was free to download and started tinkering with it using YouTube tutorials," Dietsch recalls. Despite having no formal training, he built a few small prototypes before deciding to tackle something bigger: a doomsday cult simulator that blended survival mechanics with grindhouse cinema aesthetics. He created a proof‑of‑concept demo, showed it to Abbott, and the pair took the concept to Dooma for further development.
Dooma Wendschuh, Wolf Haus’s chief financial officer and narrative director, entered the gaming world after a career in film production and screenwriting. In the early 2000s he founded Sekretagent Productions, providing narrative services 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 C$430 million (about $330 million USD). After a brief retirement on a remote Canadian island, a call from his old Hollywood roommate Michael Abbott pulled him back into the industry.
Wendschuh was impressed by Dietsch’s demo, which reignited his passion for game development. Through his network, Wendschuh connected the studio with Reid Schneider, a former Warner Bros.
Games executive now heading Raccoon Logic, the makers of 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. Funding proved challenging amid a market downturn.
The team began pitching in summer 2023, receiving positive feedback but facing a cautious investment climate. After initial outreach, they enlisted Creative Artists Agency (CAA) as representation and continued pitching into 2024, eventually closing a seed round with Lifelike Capital and Krafton. Wendschuh credits the CAA relationship—alongside seasoned veterans like Schneider and Chartrand—for opening doors that might otherwise have remained closed.
Despite the high‑profile backers, Join Us is being built by only 13 full‑time staff members. "We entered the project with a clear sense of scope and a desire to keep the team small, so everyone has a voice and can touch the creative process," says Dietsch. To make such an ambitious open‑world possible with a lean crew, the studio invested heavily in custom tooling from day one. "Any system in the game must be scalable and debuggable by a single person," Dietsch explains.
"We spent the first year simultaneously designing gameplay and building the internal tools that would let a small team expand the world without it collapsing under its own weight." The equity funding model gave Wolf Haus the runway to perfect these tools. Krafton and Lifelike’s capital financed development directly, allowing the studio to self‑fund the game.
"Our investors are motivated to increase the studio’s enterprise value, so they support our tool‑building ethos," Wendschuh notes. "When we hit a technical roadblock, we simply create a tool to solve it. It may slow short‑term progress, but it enables us to deliver a large‑scale experience with a tiny team." When asked about generative AI, Dietsch is unequivocal: 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 purpose of why we love making games," he says. Wendschuh adds that the only AI they employ is for mundane tasks like calendar management and email drafting, not for art, design, or writing.
Krafton, which has publicly positioned itself as an "AI‑first" company, actually insisted that Wolf Haus avoid generative AI in its creative pipeline. This mirrors a similar stance taken by Neon Giant, another Krafton‑owned studio, which publicly denied using AI for its projects. Both studios emphasize the importance of preserving jobs for voice actors, artists, and other creatives.
Indeed, Join Us’ six‑kilometre‑square map is handcrafted, and its 15,000 voice lines were recorded by human actors—a point of pride for the team despite their indie status. Dietsch also highlights a key difference between filmmaking and game development: immediacy.
In film, an idea can take years to materialize, requiring countless approvals and a lengthy production schedule. In games, an idea can be prototyped in a single morning, tested in the engine, and iterated upon instantly.
This rapid feedback loop fuels the studio’s creative energy. Wendschuh observes that film production is heavily front‑loaded, with intense set work and a reliance on securing high‑profile talent to greenlight a project. While anyone can technically shoot a low‑budget movie, breaking through without star power or distribution is rare.
By contrast, the gaming landscape has fewer gatekeepers; a compelling game can succeed without A‑list actors or directors. Both mediums, however, share a common creative impulse: storytelling and immersion.
"When I was six, I wanted to make either movies or games—it was a coin toss," Dietsch reflects. "I learned to program on a TI‑83, so I’ve always been drawn to both. Whether you’re making a film or a game, you’re trying to give someone an experience, tell a story, and engage them.
That core goal doesn’t change."