If you’re anything like us at CGR, then you’ve probably spent hours with your friends, within the unbreachable walls of a pillow fort, formulating a hypothetical battle plan for reclaiming your living room (and eventually the world) in the event of a zombie apocalypse. Maybe your plan, like mine, includes fashioning a bandanna out of sausage links, tearing your shirt off in a slow-motion panic - as though it were armor splashed with acidic alien blood - and employing Johnny Cage-esque low-blows to every zombie that galumphs into your macho posturing. Because you, like me, hypothesized during your childhood that, to the undead, groin-shots are just as lethal as headshots.
