The trailer for Join Us first caught the public’s eye during the Xbox Showcase in June, unveiling a darkly humorous cooperative cult simulation where robed followers zip around on pigs, wield machine guns, and ultimately confront colossal, Cthulhu‑inspired tentacles. One of the most memorable—and absurd—moments that didn’t make the final cut was the inclusion of a snake‑shooting weapon, a feature that arose from a simple suggestion by a team member’s child. As Joe Dietsch, CEO and creative director of Wolf Haus Games, recounts, “The kid asked, ‘Can there be a snake gun?’ We had a modular weapon system, so within half an hour I built a gun that fires snakes.
It blew his mind, and it stayed in the game.” 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 followers or friends in co‑op mode to build a 1970s‑style cult empire. The gameplay is deliberately over‑the‑top, encouraging players to experiment with bizarre weapons, strange rituals, and an ever‑expanding map that feels both playful and unsettling.
What makes the project truly remarkable is the way Wolf Haus has managed to deliver a high‑fidelity, content‑rich experience with a remarkably small development team. Michael Abbott, the studio’s chief operating officer, explains their philosophy: “We set out to be disruptors. We told ourselves we didn’t need a hundred‑person studio; twelve talented people could do the job.” Most industry observers dismissed the notion as naïve, but the team’s background in indie filmmaking gave them confidence. “We come from indie film where you punch far above your weight,” Abbott says.
After 80 pitch meetings, Wolf Haus finally secured equity funding from Krafton and Lifelike Capital, both of which took minority stakes in the studio. The founders’ Hollywood pedigree runs deep. Dietsch studied film at Chapman University alongside Louie Gibson, son of Mel Gibson, who co‑founded Wolf Haus and 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 transition to the Star Citizen universe.
Abbott later produced movies such as Fight for ’84 starring Jamie Foxx. This blend of cinematic experience and entrepreneurial grit has shaped the studio’s culture. Join Us originated from Dietsch’s early experiments in Unreal Engine.
“Unreal was free to download, and I’d always loved games but felt blocked from actually creating something,” he says. He taught himself the engine through YouTube tutorials, built a few tiny prototypes, and eventually gravitated toward a doomsday cult simulator concept that merged his love of grindhouse cinema with survival‑game mechanics. The initial proof‑of‑concept was a sandbox where he could push the engine’s limits, anticipating that at some point technical obstacles would force him to stop.
He showed the demo to Abbott, who recognized its potential and introduced it to Dooma, a production partner. Dooma Wendschuh, Wolf Haus’s chief financial officer and narrative director, brings a unique blend of film and tech experience. He began as a producer and screenwriter in Hollywood 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, including the cannabis formulation company Ebbu, which sold for C$430 million.
After a brief retirement on a remote Canadian island, a call from his old roommate Michael Abbott pulled him back into the industry. Wendschuh was instantly impressed by the Join Us demo, prompting him to join the effort and recruit industry veterans such as Reid Schneider, former Warner Bros. Games VP, and Pierre‑Olivier Chartrand, ex‑Ubisoft Montreal programmer, as strategic advisor and CTO respectively.
Funding proved to be a hurdle, especially as the industry entered a downturn in mid‑2023. The team’s first pitch cycle coincided with a cautious market, but they persisted, eventually aligning with Creative Artists Agency (CAA) for representation. Their persistence paid off when Lifelike Capital and Krafton closed a seed round, providing the capital needed to continue development. Wendschuh notes that the CAA connection, combined with the credibility of advisors like Schneider and Chartrand, was instrumental in convincing investors.
Despite the modest headcount—13 full‑time staff members—the studio has maintained a collaborative environment where every voice matters. Dietsch emphasizes that they entered the project with a clear understanding of scope, yet deliberately kept the team small to preserve creative ownership. To make such an ambitious title feasible, Wolf Haus invested heavily in custom tooling early in the pipeline. “Any system we build has to be scalable and debuggable by a single person,” Dietsch explains.
The first year of development was split between ideating gameplay and constructing the internal tools that would allow the game to grow without collapsing under its own weight. The equity‑funded model gave Wolf Haus the runway to perfect these tools. Krafton and Lifelike’s investment was used directly to finance development, with only a modest amount of project finance earmarked for marketing later on. This structure aligns investor incentives with the studio’s long‑term value creation, encouraging the team to keep building reusable tools even when it slows immediate progress.
When asked about the role of generative AI, the team is unequivocal: they do not employ it for creative work. “We believe a human touch is essential,” Dietsch says.
“Turning the creative process over to an AI would defeat the purpose of why we love making games.” Wendschuh adds that the only AI tools they use are mundane productivity aids, such as calendar scheduling and email drafting. Interestingly, Krafton—publicly positioning itself as an “AI‑first” company—specifically required that Wolf Haus not rely on generative AI for artistic creation, mirroring similar stances taken by other Krafton‑owned studios. All of Join Us’s assets are handcrafted. The six‑kilometre‑square map was built by hand, and the game features roughly 15,000 voice lines recorded by human actors, a point the team stresses as a badge of pride.
Dietsch contrasts the immediacy of game development with the protracted timelines of film. In cinema, an idea can take years to secure funding, cast talent, and reach a set, whereas in games an inspiration can be prototyped in a matter of hours within the engine.
This rapid iteration fuels the studio’s creative energy. Wendschuh observes that film production is heavily front‑loaded, requiring the alignment of high‑profile talent before a project can move forward.
While anyone can shoot a backyard movie, breaking into the market without star power or distribution is rare. By contrast, the game industry has far fewer gatekeepers; a small studio can reach a global audience without A‑list names. This democratization is a core reason why Wolf Haus believes their approach can succeed.
Reflecting on his childhood, Dietsch recalls that his love for both movies and games was shaped by early experiences with a camera and a TI‑83 calculator. “Whether you’re making a film or a game, you’re trying to give someone an experience, tell a story, and engage them,” he says, underscoring the shared creative impulse behind both mediums. In summary, Wolf Haus’s Join Us is a testament to what a tightly knit, technically adept team can achieve when they blend Hollywood storytelling sensibilities with indie‑game development rigor—without leaning on generative AI. Their journey from a free Unreal Engine download to a fully realized, hand‑crafted cult simulator demonstrates that a small, passionate crew can indeed disrupt the industry, proving that size isn’t the only determinant of ambition or success.