A Visit to San Sabilia is a TTRPG solo journaling game in which you roleplay a character journaling about their visit to the city of SanSibilia. The city is not found on any maps, but is both apart and distinct from our world.

The game relies on a standard pack of 52 playing cards excluding jokers to provide the player journaling prompts of what happens each day of your visit. The following is my first playthrough of A Visit to San Sibilia. It took me two to three hours of playtime, and it inspired me to make this website so I could share my visit with other players more easily! I had a great time writing about my character's journey and the twist it took at the end because of the luck of the cards. I haven't written fiction like this in a long time and it was an excellent exercise.

I kinda, sorta, maybe broke the gamerules just a little bit by having the city change each day instead of only when I drew two of a kind (I did not draw any two of a kind in my few hours of playing). It played into my overall story, and I believe I will be thinking about this visit to San Sabilia for a good long while. I hope you enjoy!

07-28-2025 A Visit to San Sabilia

Character Creation

First draw = 2 of ♦ → Lonely
Second draw = J of ♥ → Artist
“Lonely artist” named Jack

Day 1:

No draws - Character introduction

Travelling by boat to London, I awoke in my quarters to see we hadn’t arrived in London at all, but instead had docked in another bustling port. The purple scrawl of lettering in beatific script painted the name San Sibilia. I immediately flashed back to my childhood, sneaking into the dark library of my mother, and seeing an atlas upon her desk. The map was fascinating, and in the same purple font was the San Sibilia port near the coast of Greece. I remember distinctly the gravitational pull I felt. The next moment, the port moved to the southern coast of Africa, then to the end of Chile, then near Singapore. After my mother caught me in her library, I had to abandon the atlas tome and stop exploring where San Sibilia would appear next. The next time I spotted the atlas, I couldn’t find San Sibilia on any page. The memory had faded until now. Here. In the actual place that called to me long ago.

I arrived with little. Not much but my journal and color pencils, the single change of clothes shoved into my saddle bag, and enough money for a two nights stay. I hadn’t been sure San Sabilia would take the Royal currency, but the hostel I found tucked through winding side streets didn’t bat an eye, though I saw other bills in their register. The hostel is cramped, but feels like a beginning. Full of possibility somehow. Like the walls will breathe more space into the room by scooting back a few feet at a moment's notice.

I met another traveller named Shen who was headed to Hong Kong, who hadn’t heard of San Sibilia before. We chatted in a cafe together for a good while, and when it was time to go, the door out shifted to the other end of the room. Quite puzzled, we reached for the door knob, only to find we were exiting into the hostel lobby. When we looked behind us, the door to the cafe had vanished. I can’t explain it well, but despite the surprise, we did not feel alarmed at the impossibility. It felt so real that it could not be doubted for a moment. It is just how things are here.

Goodnight.
Jack

Day 3:

First draw = A of ♥ → Serendipitous
Second draw = 4 of ♥ → Gallery opening
“A serendipitous gallery opening.”

Lost, but not quite, as it is just the nature of San Sabilia, I stumbled upon an art gallery. Bright lights of hundreds of small candles lit the room along with the setting sun. I wasn’t worried about the fire hazard, as I usually would be at such a crowded amount of lit candles. Somehow, I knew they were safe. The gallery owner approached me with a large smile, going, “Jack! Come in, come in, Shen told me of your art.” I didn’t question, again, how he knew my name or what I looked like, how he picked me out of a crowd, or how he knew Shen. It’s just how it is here.

The owner asked to see my work. Ah! For the first time since arriving in San Sibilia did I feel so lonely, shy, and embarrassed! My work? The owner did not seem to notice, though I stammered and went red. I explained I only had sketches with me, no gallery worthy pieces. The owner just belly laughed and slapped me on the back before gesturing to the walls. It was only then I noticed the gallery was showcasing exactly that - sketches, works in progress, the feeling of change, dynamics, and movement. A gallery meant for me and my work! A new feeling blossomed. Excitement. I asked how I could showcase them without tearing them out of my journal and the owner grinned. “This is San Sibilia, they’ll always come home where they’re meant to be.”

In a flash my work was on the walls and my lonely heart flooded with light. The night flew by! Again, as I left, my exit led me to my hostel. When I opened my journal to write my tale, the ripped pages were back with no evidence of ever being gone to begin with. But the gallery owner’s card and note followed them, along with an envelope of my earnings of copies of my art sold - proof that it had really happened after all.

Goodnight.
Jack

Day 7:

First draw = K of ♥→ Jubilant
Second draw = J of ♦ → Funeral procession at dawn
“A jubilant funeral procession at dawn.”

I awoke to horns this morning. Chanting in the street. Music and laughter and cheers. I immediately threw on my clothes and left the hostel, to find a great parade of people passing by. I stopped a woman in bright red, yellow and purple clothes with a large headdress on, and asked the occasion. She beamed and said, “Sir, this is the marvelous, joyous celebration of life for the late Queen of San Sibilia.” I startled because I didn’t know this place had a queen, also… a funeral? So joyous? I asked, “Celebration of life, then…? Not a happiness she’s gone for good?” The woman laughed, “My dear, no one is gone for good in San Sibilia, and yes, of course, she founded our home so long ago, treated everyone well, we celebrate her and her legacy, we shepherd her to the next life, we honor her fully with love. Come! Join our celebration to the graveyard! Pay your respects and celebrate for all the love in San Sibilia!”

Of course, I joined.

We marched to the raucous, yet beautiful, music and danced and smiled and laughed together. The casket procession filed past us at one point where we waved and yelled our respects and thanks for creating a wonderful city of endless possibility. The graveyard was elaborately decorated with purple and gold, and as the queen’s body was lowered into the ground, the sun rose higher, and San Sibilia’s mourning grew louder in celebrating the Queen’s life. The celebration lasted well into the evening. I write this full of love, mead, and classic San Sibilian food fare. I know more and feel more now than I ever imagined.

I will celebrate all.

Goodnight.
Jack

Day 11:

First draw = 3 of ♣ → Sinister
Second draw = 2 of ♠ → Rendezvous with new friends
“A sinister rendezvous with new friends.”

Ah! A tale I do not wish to write. My time here in San Sabilia has been magnificent. My money has stretched further than I knew possible, and my heart has grown larger than I thought my chest could hold. And yet, while San Sabilia has only showered me with love so far, things took a turn tonight.

Shen, the woman from the funeral - Isabeth, and the gallery owner - Gio, we all agreed to meet up at the museum. We had all met by chance - as the San Sabilian way - at the same restaurant for dinner the night before, and agreed that the museum would be an excellent place to spend the day together.

The Museum of San Sabilia is an ornate building overflowing with flourishes and gold accents. It’s beautiful and awe-inspiring just from the outside alone, but stepping into the halls takes your breath away. We examined the seafaring, nautical artifacts; the San Sabilian artworks - a variety of styles and emotions displayed in each one; the history of San Sabilia’s founding; and the scientific discoveries made by San Sabilian peoples. As I roamed the halls with my new friends, we stumbled across a door tucked away from the rest of the exhibits. However, it too had a placard denoting that it was actually a history exhibit. Curious, we opened the door. It was a dark room. I peered in, feeling a magnetic draw as I stared into what felt like an abyss. I started forward, but Isabeth grabbed my hand. The one so sure of San Sabilia, the one so proud of her heritage and her city’s history, stopped me, “I’m not sure this exhibit is truly finished for viewing. There’s no one else here. I feel a feeling I’m not quite used to, one I think we should heed.” I looked at her, then back into the room. The magnetic feeling growing stronger. “I have to know, Isabeth, what this room has to show me.” I could tell she was not happy, but could understand, as the curiosity was beginning to wear on all four of us. Shen was pacing behind me, Gio fidgeting with his hands and rocking on his heels as he tried to peek past me, Isabeth glancing from the room to my face and back again.

She let my hand go and I turned and entered. My friends, I could feel them follow, but could not see them anymore. I walked on and on until suddenly a bright white light emanated from the surrounding walls. I shielded my eyes, and looked for the others, but they were no longer with me! The walls began playing moving pictures of San Sabilia. I watched as streets shifted from one place to another, and buildings moved from place to place. The pictures sped up and shifted and snagged and broke apart. A sinister laugh emanated from somewhere in the space around me, a chill racing up my spine, but my eyes could no longer move from the pictures. Suddenly, the city shifted into play blocks a child would use. Each block being moved by a large, gloved hand and placed in different spots. I suddenly saw the hostel I have been staying at drawn onto a wooden block being moved in front of the museum block. My eyes widened because I began to understand - and I began to realize that whoever this gloved hand belonged to knew who I was too.

Was any of this real? Was this the truth, the true history of San Sabilia? Is San Sabilia just the playing blocks of a higher being? What about the buried Queen and her founding of this city? The world I was coming to know and love, was it just a figment of a being’s imagination? The laugh bounced around the darkness again, seeming to love my spiraling. I could feel the truth of San Sabilia gathering around me, I just had to reach out and grasp it. Just as I was about to make the attempt, bright white light surrounded me again and I was suddenly on the other side of the door where I was before I entered that horrid place. I stared blankly for a few minutes, until I heard quiet crying. I broke my gaze away and found Isabeth next to me with tears streaming down her face. I took her hand because I understood. Her whole world was just changed before her very eyes in a way that is different from the usual shifting streets she’s accustomed to. No, here she was questioning her very being. Her very soul. I looked to my right and saw Shen kneeling next to Gio comforting him as he rocked back and forth. Something or someone had just changed our entire perspective on what being alive and what’s real and how the world works. Did it apply outside of San Sabilia? Is my being, being questioned as much as Isabeth or Gio’s since I’m just a passing visitor while they’ve spent their whole lives here? My mind is still reeling and it’s been hours.

The four of us decided to not leave each other for the night, and we are cramped into Gio’s small apartment above the art gallery as I write this. Isabeth is snoring lightly, head on my lap; Gio and Shen are chatting on the sofa, clearly trying to forget the day. And I’m writing my journal to remember. To know I’m real. To know I have a story. To know this isn’t the end. That San Sabilia is the happiest place I’ve ever been. To try and reconcile the shifting streets.

Jack