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 zip around on pig‑drawn carts, unleash a barrage of machine‑gun fire, and the sequence culminates with a nightmarish vision of colossal, Cthulhu‑like tentacles. One element that didn’t make the final edit was the infamous “snake gun,” a quirky weapon that has become a hallmark of the game, according to Joe Dietsch, the CEO and creative director of Wolf Haus Games.
"One of the developer’s kids suggested the idea of a snake‑shooting gun," Dietsch recalls. "We had a rapid‑prototyping tool that let us spin up a new firearm in about thirty minutes, so I built a gun that fires serpents on the fly.
The kid was ecstatic, and we kept it in the final build." That anecdote encapsulates the chaotic, over‑the‑top gameplay that Join Us promises: an open‑world sandbox where players can recruit followers—or teammates in co‑op mode—to join a 1970s‑style doomsday cult. It also illustrates the studio’s technology‑first mindset, which has enabled a small team to produce a high‑fidelity, large‑scale title. Michael Abbott, Wolf Haus’s chief operating officer, summed up their philosophy: "We wanted to be disruptors. We told everyone we could build a AAA‑ish experience with just twelve people.
Most people laughed, saying it was impossible." The team’s confidence stems from a history of punching far above their budget. "We come from indie filmmaking, where you learn to do a lot with very little," Abbott explains. After 80 pitch meetings, Wolf Haus finally secured equity investment from Krafton and Lifelike Capital, giving the studio the runway it needed. Wolf Haus’s founders are steeped in Hollywood lineage.
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 films such as Fight for ’84, starring Jamie Foxx. Join Us originated from Dietsch’s early experiments in Unreal Engine.
"Unreal was free to download, and I’d always loved games, but the barrier to actually creating something felt huge," he says. He taught himself the engine through YouTube tutorials, built a few tiny prototypes, and eventually settled on a doomsday‑cult simulation that blended survival mechanics with grindhouse cinema aesthetics. The concept felt like a natural bridge between his film sensibilities and his lifelong passion for interactive entertainment. He built a proof‑of‑concept demo, assuming he would soon hit a technical wall.
When he showed the demo to Abbott, the latter recognized its potential and took it to Dooma, the studio’s early‑stage incubator. Dooma’s CFO and narrative director, Dooma Wendschuh, had previously worked as a film producer and screenwriter before transitioning to games in the early 2000s. He founded Sekretagent Productions, providing narrative services for titles such as 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, which sold for roughly C$430 million.
After selling Ebbu, Wendschuh bought a remote island restaurant in Canada, intending to retire. Yet, as Hollywood stories often go, a sudden call from his old roommate Michael Abbott pulled him back into the industry. "I was ready for a quiet life, but Joe’s demo blew my mind and convinced me to come out of retirement," Wendschuh says.
He then introduced the project to Reid Schneider, a former Warner Bros. Games VP now heading Raccoon Logic, and Schneider recruited Pierre‑Olivier Chartrand, an ex‑Ubisoft Montreal programmer, as chief technology officer.
With the core leadership in place, the studio turned to fundraising during a market downturn in the summer of 2023. Pitching proved arduous; even though industry insiders found the concept compelling, the broader economic climate made investors cautious. Wolf Haus eventually partnered with Creative Artists Agency (CAA) in Los Angeles, which helped refine their pitch and secure the seed round from Lifelike Capital and Krafton in 2024.
Abbott credits CAA’s representation—also handling titles like 007: First Light—and the presence of seasoned veterans such as Schneider and Chartrand for opening doors. "Our agent Derek Douglas had been my representative when I was making games for twelve years, and he previously headed the video‑game department at William Morris," Abbott notes. Despite the heavyweight connections, Join Us remains a product of a lean operation: only 13 full‑time staff members.
Dietsch emphasizes that the small‑team model was intentional, fostering an environment where every voice matters and each person can influence the creative direction. To make an ambitious open‑world game feasible with such a limited crew, Wolf Haus invested heavily in custom tooling from the outset.
"Every system in the game needed to be scalable and debuggable by a single developer," Dietsch explains. "We spent the first year simultaneously designing gameplay and building the internal tools that would let us expand the world without it collapsing under its own weight." The funding structure further supported this tooling‑centric approach. Krafton and Lifelike’s equity stakes allowed Wolf Haus to self‑finance development, using the capital to build the necessary pipelines. "Equity investors care about the studio’s enterprise value, so they encourage us to create reusable tools that not only solve immediate problems but also lay the groundwork for future projects," Wendschuh says.
While this strategy can slow short‑term progress, it enables a small team to produce a game of AAA scope. When asked about the role of generative AI, Dietsch gives a clear answer: none. "We believe a game should retain a human touch. Hand‑crafting the experience is why we get up in the morning," he says.
Wendschuh adds that the studio only uses AI for mundane tasks like calendar management and email drafting, never for creative content. Interestingly, Krafton—publicly branding itself as an "AI‑first" company—specifically required Wolf Haus to avoid generative AI in the game's creation, mirroring a similar stance taken by Krafton‑owned Neon Giant.
The team’s commitment to handcrafted content extends to the game’s massive six‑kilometre‑square map and its 15,000 voice lines, all recorded by human actors. "Even as a tiny indie, we felt it was essential to keep the world hand‑made and the performances authentic," Dietsch asserts.
Dietsch also reflects on the contrast between filmmaking and game development. In film, 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 and tested directly in the engine.
"You can have an idea at breakfast and see it in the game by lunch," he says, highlighting the immediacy and iterative freedom that attracted him to interactive media. Wendschuh points out that while film production is front‑loaded with intense, high‑budget set work and a reliance on star power, games have a lower barrier to entry and fewer gatekeepers.
"Anyone can rent a camera and shoot a backyard movie, but without big names or distribution, success is unlikely. In games, you don’t need an A‑list actor or director to reach an audience," he explains. Both founders agree that the core creative drive—telling stories and delivering experiences—remains the same across mediums.
"When I was six, I wanted to make either movies or games. It came down to a coin toss and whether I got a camera for Christmas," Dietsch laughs. "I learned to program on a TI‑83, so the passion has always been there.
Whether it’s a film or a game, the goal is to engage the audience and share a narrative. The tools change, but the intention stays the same."