Custom MTG Token Cards vs Dice for Commander Boards
When my Commander board suddenly reaches 20 lifelink Soldiers and 10 of them are tapped, the real decision is whether I want to hunt through a token box, balance dice on card corners, and explain every pile—or write the whole situation clearly on two reusable cards. I learned that the embarrassing way.
For years, I brought official Soldier tokens to weekly Commander nights at my local shop and treated dice as my universal memory system: one die for +1/+1 counters, another near a row of creatures to show how many had attacked, maybe a third because I had gained lifelink somewhere along the way. Then I had the board where 20 Soldiers were on the field, ten had attacked, and I had divided them into piles badly enough that an opponent asked what each one meant.
I answered with confidence, then realized I had counted two tapped Soldiers as available blockers. We rolled combat back. Fair outcome, mildly humiliating process. I probably should have known this earlier: rotating dice from +1/+1 through +5/+5 is not actually efficient when some of them vanish under cards.
The problem was never that I lacked enough physical pieces. It was that my battlefield state had stopped being readable. In Commander format, a token deck can create a surprising amount of information in a single turn: how many creatures exist and what separates one batch from another after combat or a new token-making effect. If I make eight Soldiers with lifelink and later make six more without it, those are not really one pile anymore.
If an anthem gives one group +1/+1 counters while another gets a temporary boost until end of turn, dice can help, but they also invite questions. “Is that die a counter or a damage marker?” “Are those five creatures tapped, or are there five creatures total?” “Does this token have vigilance?”
The best board-management tools answer those questions before anyone has to ask them. I now think of token cards less as decorative replacements for official tokens and more as visible labels for game information. One card can say “20 Soldiers / 1/1 / Lifelink,” while another says “10 Tapped.” That is almost boringly plain. And honestly? That is exactly why it works. My opponents can evaluate attacks and blocks without interrogating my side of the table, and I can spend more time making decisions instead of reconstructing the last two turns.
Size matters more than I expected, especially because I still want the table to feel like a Magic table rather than a scattered collection of note cards. A token card that is too large starts pushing lands, artifacts, and creature rows farther apart; one that is too small becomes hard to read from across the table. The official 63×88 mm card dimensions are a very practical middle ground because they match the footprint of a standard Magic card.
I can place a written token beside the permanent that created it, stack a few related cards behind it if needed, or keep a “status” card directly under a creature group without redesigning my whole play area. It also means the cards slip into the deck boxes I already use for my collection. I do not shuffle these writable cards into my library, obviously, but matching the standard card shape makes them easier to sleeve, transport, and arrange. For token-heavy decks, that familiar size becomes part of the usability. A 63×88 mm card leaves enough room for a large count and a readable rules line, such as power/toughness or lifelink, without turning my handwriting into a tiny legal disclaimer.
Being the right size is only half the test. The card also needs to keep up when the board changes, because Commander states rarely stay still for long. I prefer having writing space on both sides: one side can represent the creature group itself, while the other can hold a changed version, a different token type, a temporary reminder, or something simple like “Monarch” or “10 Treasures.”
I have used custom MTG tokens in that role because the double-sided dry-erase format lets me rewrite quantities instead of finding a new token every time a board gets larger or smaller. The included markers and cleaning cloths are useful in the ordinary, unglamorous moments too. If a board wipe happens, I erase the card. If a creature effect changes from “8 Goblins” to “12 Goblins,”
I update one number rather than replace half my setup. For what it’s worth, I write the information that changes a decision in the largest lettering—usually whether a group is tapped or has a key ability. Decoration can wait until the board state is clear. A clear “6 Spirits / 1/1 / Flying / 3 Tapped” does more for a clean game than a beautifully illustrated token that leaves the actual board state uncertain.
Dice, scraps of paper, and spare cards still have their place. I am not pretending every game needs a dedicated written token system. A die is excellent for tracking a single +1/+1 counter or a planeswalker loyalty number, and I use them constantly for that. The trouble starts when dice are asked to represent too many different categories of information at once.
A green die might mean +1/+1 counters in one game, poison in another, a creature count in the next, and “this group attacked” when I am desperate. That flexibility sounds convenient until the board gets crowded. Paper slips are clearer in theory, but they curl in a backpack and disappear under cards once the table gets busy. I have also seen players use upside-down basic lands, business cards, or the backs of old draft chaff. It works, technically.
But those substitutions can be visually noisy and sometimes create awkward questions about whether a card is part of the battlefield or just a reminder. Temporary substitutes also tend to be too small for large writing, especially when they need to show tapped and untapped indicators alongside token counts. A reusable card keeps the same physical language on the table each week. My “tapped” reminder looks like my “Treasure” reminder, which looks like my “life total tracking” note. That consistency lowers the mental load for everyone.
For the straightforward sizing question I see players ask before buying blank cards: blank cards that fit standard Magic: The Gathering decks are 63×88 mm, the official 63×88 mm card dimensions used by normal Magic cards. If the goal is to use them as tokens, reminders, or visible game aids, that size is ideal because it sits comfortably beside sleeved cards and fits standard deck storage.
If someone intends to shuffle a blank card into a deck for a casual proxy or test card, I would be more cautious. The card and its sleeve need to be indistinguishable in a deck, so it cannot be identified from the back or by feel. For battlefield tokens, though, that concern disappears. I want the card to stand out as a clear game object, and I want it large enough that the player across the table can read “Lifelink” without leaning over my lands.
I would buy reusable blank token cards if I regularly play a swarm deck or one that leaves several changing statuses visible from turn to turn. They make particular sense for Commander players who enjoy tokens but dislike carrying a separate official token for every possible creature type. They are also handy for people who lend decks to newer players, since a plainly written card reduces rules confusion without requiring someone to memorize every token from memory.
On the other hand, if my deck makes one or two predictable tokens per game and I already own the matching official versions, I probably would not need a large writable set. A couple of dice may be enough. Does it matter? More than you’d think once the board starts multiplying. My Boros token deck did not become less complicated after I switched methods. I just stopped making that complexity everyone else’s problem.