In exactly one month, on the twenty-second day of the tenth month in the year 2005, myself and a small band of loyal compatriots will travel to the arctic wasteland in the north to compete in a tournament testing the most ancient art of hand-to-hand combat. Mortal Kombat, it isn't. Rock Paper Scissors, it is.

Our journey will take us to the very fringes of civilization, to the untamed lands of Canada and the border outpost of Toronto, where the law extends only as far as your own two fists.

Assuming we even survive the trip, that is. The road is fraught with danger. Wild moose and cannibalistic yeti roam the frigid tundra in search of prey. Equally predatory and twice as amoral, are the oil executives who seek to make any journey greater than 15 miles an expedition requiring the financial backing and blessings of Queen Isabella herself. And the only viable border crossing brings us uncomfortably close to Buffalo, a place inhabited by a savage people stuck somewhere in time between the Industrial Revolution and the Great Depression.

Of course, we then have to deal with the Canadian police force, fearsome creatures known as Mounties. These demi-humans patrol the frozen tundra fueled only by Labbatt Blue and unbridled anger, riding bareback on vicious polar bears trained to ravage anyone who's every sentence fails to end with "Eh." Many a feckless traveler has neglected to cover the scent of cheap American beer upon entry, and quickly met a grisly demise under the claws of a hell-spawned Mountie.

Should we make it relatively unscathed to Toronto, which in ancient Inuit translates roughly to "land of no tomorrow," an entirely different challenge awaits us. Temptation lies at every street corner; dingy brick buildings are adorned with offers of "amiable companions for wild times" and boisterous saloons offer sweet reprieve from the subzero cold.

Barring the deprivations of the road and the temptations of the streets, a fierce competition against the world's finest players of Rock Paper Scissors awaits. Seeking not only a chunk of the $10,000 Canadian purse, but a slice of immortal glory, more than 800 warriors will match wits and willpower in armed battle.

On the surface, the game is simple. There are three throws: rock, paper and scissors. Rock crushes scissors, paper covers rock, and scissors cuts paper. A trinity of perfection unparalleled in the annals of human history.

The tournament is a cutthroat, single-elimination format, in which four wrong throws can send you to drown your sorrow with suds. To advance from one round to the next, you must best your opponent in two out of three sets, each set going to whomever wins two out of three throws. Referees officiate over every single match and will not hesitate to disqualify players throwing sideways scissors, vertical papers or such blasphemous unsanctioned throws like "dynamite" or the "TexasLonghorn."

In the early days of the game, players violating said rules were often dismembered at the wrist, their agony rivaled only by their disgrace.

The motley crew of scoundrels and hooligans who subject themselves to such trials for a chance at the crown hail from a variety of ports. From the storied island of Great Britain, to the former Soviet Republic of Ukraine, and now from the hallowed halls of Cooperstown, the tournament does not deceive with its name "World Rock Paper Scissors Championship."

Combined, my own band of ruffians brings seven years of fist-shaking experience to the table. Two-year veterans Jim "The Hammer" Parry and Graig "The Omnipotent Navigator" Chapman join one-year vet Adam "The Wall Crawler" Chamberlain and myself, a two-time RPS'er. They call me "The Stranger."

Graig finished in the top 25 in the world in last year's tournament and will do whatever it takes to climb his way to the top this year. The rest of us didn't fair nearly as well, with one scurvy dog failing to win even a single set.

I know not how my crew will fare this year, and I can only hope we all make it back alive, but I do know this: no greater glory exists than to meet and defeat an opponent in hand-to-hand combat with a roaring crowd around you.

Those desirous of more information should seek the wisdom of www.worldrps.com, the gateway to all things Rock Paper Scissors and a bastion of truth in the swirl of lies that is the internet. Or if you wish to join the growing legion that is helmed by yours truly, contact me at ccam0220@brockport.edu.