The trailer for Join Us first appeared during the Xbox Showcase in June, offering a glimpse of a darkly humorous cooperative cult simulator. In the clip, robed cultists ride pig‑mounted platforms, unleash a barrage of machine‑gun fire, and the sequence culminates with a monstrous, Cthulhu‑like mass of tentacles. What didn’t make the final cut was the infamous “snake gun,” a weapon whose origin, according to Wolf Haus Games’ CEO and creative director Joe Dietsch, is as quirky as the game itself.
“One of the developers’ kids asked, ‘What would a snake‑shooting gun look like?’ We had a rapid‑prototyping tool that let us spin up a new weapon in about half an hour, so I built a gun that fires serpents on the fly. The kid went nuts, and we kept it in the final build,” Dietsch recalls. This anecdote perfectly illustrates the chaotic, improvisational spirit that defines Join Us—a sprawling open‑world sandbox where players can recruit followers or team up with friends to run a 1970s‑style cult.
It also showcases the studio’s technology‑first mindset, which has allowed a tiny crew to produce a high‑fidelity title that would normally require a much larger staff. Michael Abbott, Wolf Haus’s chief operating officer, summed up their ambition: “We wanted to be disruptors.
Everyone told us you need a hundred‑person team to pull off something this big. We said, ‘No, we can do it with twelve.’” Their confidence stems from a background in indie filmmaking, where small budgets and lean crews are the norm.
“We’re used to punching well above our weight,” Abbott added. After a grueling 80‑pitch marathon, the studio finally secured equity investment from Krafton and Lifelike Capital, giving the project the financial runway it needed. The founders’ Hollywood roots run deep.
Dietsch studied film at Chapman University alongside Louie Gibson, son of actor Mel Gibson, and the two 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, a production company originally founded by Chris Roberts before his shift to Star Citizen.
Abbott later produced movies such as Fight for ’84 starring Jamie Foxx. This blend of film experience and entrepreneurial grit informed the studio’s approach to game development. Join Us began as a personal experiment for Dietsch in Unreal Engine.
“Unreal was free to download, and I’d always loved games but felt blocked from actually creating anything,” he explains. He taught himself the engine through YouTube tutorials, eventually crafting a handful of small prototypes.
One concept kept resurfacing: a doomsday cult simulator that merged survival mechanics with grindhouse‑style cinema. That seed grew into a proof‑of‑concept demo, which he presented to Abbott.
Abbott, in turn, introduced the demo to Dooma, a production partner that helped shape the early vision. The studio’s narrative director and CFO, Dooma Wendschuh, brings a unique blend of film and tech experience.
He started as a producer and screenwriter before moving into games in the early 2000s, founding Sekretagent Productions, which supplied writing 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‑hill roommate Michael Abbott pulled him back into the industry. Wendschuh was instantly impressed by Dietsch’s demo and agreed to join the effort. He then recruited former Warner Bros.
Games VP Reid Schneider as a strategic advisor and brought in Pierre‑Olivier Chartrand, a former Ubisoft Montreal programmer, to serve as chief technology officer. Securing funding proved challenging amid a market downturn in 2023.
The team’s initial pitches generated enthusiasm but little cash. Partnering with Creative Artists Agency (CAA) gave them credibility and access to a broader network of investors. By early 2024, Lifelike Capital and Krafton committed to a seed round, providing the capital needed to keep development on track. Wendschuh notes that CAA’s representation, which also covers titles like 007: First Light, and the presence of seasoned veterans such as Schneider and Chartrand, were instrumental in convincing investors.
Despite the high ambitions, the studio remains remarkably small—13 full‑time staff members at the time of writing. Dietsch emphasizes that this lean structure is intentional: “We wanted everyone to have a voice, to touch the creative process, and to feel ownership over the final product.” To make such a scope feasible, the team invested heavily in custom tooling from day one. “If a system can’t be debugged and scaled by a single person, it becomes a bottleneck,” Dietsch says. The first year of development was therefore split between designing gameplay concepts and building the internal tools that would later allow those concepts to scale across a six‑kilometer‑square open world without collapsing under their own weight.
The equity‑funded model gave Wolf Haus the luxury of time to perfect these tools. Krafton and Lifelike’s investments were used primarily to self‑finance development, with only a modest amount earmarked for marketing.
This arrangement aligns the investors’ interests with the studio’s long‑term value creation, encouraging a culture of problem‑solving through bespoke tools rather than outsourcing or shortcuts. When asked about generative AI, the team’s stance is clear: they do not rely on it for any creative work. Dietsch explains, “We believe a human touch is essential. Using AI to generate assets would defeat the reason we get up every morning—to craft something ourselves.” Wendschuh adds that while the studio subscribes to a few AI services for administrative tasks like calendar management, none of those tools influence the game’s design, art, or narrative.
Interestingly, Krafton—publicly branding itself as an “AI‑first” company—specifically required that Wolf Haus avoid generative AI in the creative pipeline, mirroring a similar stance taken by Krafton‑owned Neon Giant. The commitment to handcrafted content extends to the game’s world and audio.
The entire six‑kilometer map is hand‑modeled, and all 15,000 voice lines were recorded by human actors, a decision Dietsch says was non‑negotiable even for an indie title. This dedication underscores the studio’s broader philosophy: technology should empower creators, not replace them. Dietsch also reflects on the differences between filmmaking and game development. In film, an idea can take years to materialize, often requiring the approval of high‑profile directors or actors before a studio greenlights production.
By contrast, a game concept can be prototyped within hours, allowing immediate iteration. “You can have an idea at breakfast and see it in the engine by lunch,” he says, describing the exhilarating immediacy of interactive media.
Wendschuh points out that while movies are front‑loaded with pre‑production hurdles—securing talent, financing, distribution—games face fewer gatekeepers. “Anyone can make a game with a modest budget and reach a global audience without needing an A‑list star,” he notes. This democratization fuels Wolf Haus’s confidence that a small, focused team can deliver a title that rivals larger studios. Ultimately, both Dietsch and Wendschuh view their work as storytelling, whether through film or interactive experiences.
“When I was six, I wanted to make either movies or games; it came down to a coin toss and maybe a camera for Christmas,” Dietsch recalls. “The goal is the same: to give people an experience, tell a story, and engage them.” Join Us stands as a testament to that vision—a cult‑themed, open‑world adventure built by a handful of Hollywood‑savvy creators who leveraged their film background, tech ingenuity, and a refusal to rely on generative AI to craft a uniquely human experience.