A printable Sagrada score sheet lives or dies on a reveal. For ten rounds every window on the table is public — anyone can count anyone else's columns — except one card each player holds face down: the private objective, worth the sum of every die of one colour in that window. At scoring, those cards flip, pip totals nobody else has been tracking land on the total all at once, and the game can be decided by a number that existed, unverifiable, in one player's head for the whole evening. That is the argument this sheet exists to end. Two players finish level, the tiebreak is not a recount of the public rows at all — it is most points from the private objective, then most favour tokens left, then reverse turn order in the final round — and if the private totals were never written down colour by colour, die by die, the tiebreak is a memory contest. Or the slower version of the same loss: the dice are scooped off the windows into the bag while someone is still checking whether a column really had no repeated colour, a set count that depended on the scarcer colour can no longer be checked, and a four-point disagreement becomes a matter of confidence. Every disputed Sagrada finish is the same dispute in different clothes: public objectives nobody scored separately, a private pip sum nobody recorded, and a window that no longer exists. That is the seller this vertical rewards. Not the seller with the prettiest stained-glass border, because the windows and the dice already come in the box and your buyer owns both. The seller whose sheet keeps each public objective on its own line, writes the private colour's dice out one by one before they are summed, prints the tiebreak strip in order — private points, then favour tokens, then reverse final-round order — and is filled in before a single die leaves a window, so the argument ends at the sheet instead of starting there.
What a printable Sagrada set actually contains (and why it is lines per objective, not one total)
A Sagrada set is not a generic tally pad with a cathedral on it, and designing it as one is the first error in this niche. At minimum a serious set contains five things.
First, the score sheet itself, built for up to four players. Each player needs a separate line for each of the three public objectives in the game, a line for the private objective, a line for unspent favour tokens, a line for open spaces as a negative, and a total line that is plainly the sum of those lines and nothing else. One box labelled "score" gives a buyer a place to write the current rumour. Separate objective lines give them the audit trail that settles which objective the rumour went wrong in — and in Sagrada the three public objectives change every game, so the lines must be labelled by the players from the cards on the table, not pre-printed with one fixed trio.
Second, a private-objective strip that records dice, not just a sum. For each player: the colour, then the value of every die of that colour in their window, written out before they are added. A private line that stores only the total has stored the one number nobody else at the table can check after the dice are bagged — and it is the first tiebreak, so it is the number most likely to be needed twice.
Third, a set-count helper for the objectives that score in sets. Set-based publics score by the scarcest ingredient: colour sets by the colour with the fewest dice, shade sets by the scarcer of the two values. The helper needs a small count grid — dice per colour, and dice per value — so a set count is read off counts, not guessed from a finished window at a glance.
Fourth, a tiebreak strip, printed in full, in order: most points from the private objective; then most unspent favour tokens; then reverse player order in the final round. Three lines, each with a box per player, filled in before the windows are cleared. Almost no home-made sheet prints it, and it is needed exactly once — on the night two totals land on the same number and the room discovers that the public recount they were about to do is not the tiebreak the game uses.
Fifth, the files themselves in the formats a download buyer actually prints: a clean US Letter version, an A4 version that does not shrink the objective lines into handwriting traps, a multi-game league version for groups who play weekly and burn through sheets, and a large-print version. Sagrada finishes under warm evening light, over a window of small coloured dice. Type that was legible in your design preview at noon is not the test; the test is a tired player reading a private-objective line correctly while three other windows wait to be counted.
The rules every buyer assumes (and the checks that enforce them)
Get any of these wrong on the sheet and the sheet is wrong, however pretty it is — so check a draft against this list before you list it.
Scoring happens once, after the tenth round, and every player scores the same structure: each public objective card, then their private objective, then one point per unspent favour token, then minus one point per open space on their window. The rulebook's own worked example is the check to design against, on a window scored against Column Color Variety, Light Shades and Color Variety: Column Color Variety pays five points for each of columns four and five — ten total — and nothing for columns one and three, which are incomplete, and nothing for column two, which repeats a green die. Light Shades pays two points per set of a 1-value and a 2-value die: two pairs, four points, and a third 2-value die counts for nothing because a set needs one of each. Color Variety pays four points for each set of one die of each of the five colours: three sets, twelve points. The private objective, Shades of Purple, sums three purple dice — five, six and six — for seventeen. No favour tokens remain, so zero. Three open spaces cost three. Ten plus four plus twelve plus seventeen, minus three, totals forty. If your sheet's worked example cannot reproduce forty from those lines, the sheet is teaching arithmetic it has not done.
Row and column objectives only score for complete rows and columns. A line with an open space in it scores nothing for a row or column objective, however clean its colours are — which is why the sheet needs the open-space count taken before, not after, the row and column lines are judged, and why a column that looks perfect at a glance still has to be checked for the one gap that voids it.
Sets are counted by the scarcest ingredient, every time. The number of complete sets of a type is always the count of whichever ingredient there is least of: the fewest dice of any one colour for Color Variety, the fewer of the two values for a shade pair. A sheet that lets a player count sets from the plentiful ingredient will over-score every set objective it touches, quietly, in the buyer's favour — the worst direction for a sheet whose whole promise is that opponents can trust it.
The private objective is a pip sum, not a dice count. It pays the total of the values showing on every die of the named colour in that player's window — three purple dice showing five, six and six pay seventeen, not three. A private line designed as a count of dice is wrong in the line the tiebreak depends on.
The tiebreak runs on private points first. If players tie on total, the player with the most points from their private objective wins; only if that is level too does anyone count remaining favour tokens, and only if that is also level does reverse turn order in the final round decide it. A sheet whose tiebreak strip starts with favour tokens is wrong in the order it exists to get right, and a sheet that invents a recount of public objectives as a tiebreak is making up a rule the game does not have.
A window holds twenty spaces — four rows of five — and a finished window rarely fills all of them. Each open space costs one point, counted at the end. Favour tokens are set by the window a player chose: difficulty three, the easiest, up to six, the hardest, and the harder window pays more tokens. Both numbers belong on the sheet as recorded facts, not as things to be reconstructed from a chosen pattern card that has already been put away.
Placement legality decides what is still on the window to score. A die orthogonally beside another of the same colour or the same value was never legal; if a window is found to break the placement rules, dice are removed until it obeys, the removed dice are out of play, and the spaces they leave count as open. A sheet cannot fix an illegal window, but a sheet filled in during the count — while the window is still assembled — is how the table notices before the dice are bagged.
And the variants change the product, not the margins. The solo game scores against a target built from the dice left on the round track, chooses between two private objectives, and charges three points per open space instead of one; expansions add their own objectives and tools. A base-game sheet does not record a solo or expansion game honestly, and claiming it does is how a five-star listing earns a one-star review from the one buyer who checked.
A worked game, and the arithmetic, checked the hard way
Invent three players and count them in the open, the way your sheet will have to. Tonight's three public objectives are the rulebook example's trio: Column Color Variety at five points per qualifying column, Light Shades at two points per 1-and-2 set, and Color Variety at four points per five-colour set.
Ana's window is nearly full — nineteen dice, one open space. Two of her five columns are complete with no repeated colour, paying ten. She holds three 1-value dice and four 2-value dice, so Light Shades pays for three sets — the scarcer ingredient is the three 1s — for six. Her colours run four red, four yellow, four green, four blue and three purple, so Color Variety pays for three sets, limited by the three purple, for twelve. Her private colour is green, and her four green dice show two, three, four and five: fourteen. She kept two favour tokens, worth two, and her one open space costs one. Her lines read 10, 6, 12, 14, 2, minus 1 — a total of 43.
Cleo's window holds eighteen dice and the best columns at the table: three complete columns with no repeated colour, paying fifteen. Her Light Shades are weaker — two 1s and three 2s make only two sets, four points. Her colours run five red, three yellow, four green, four blue and two purple, so Color Variety stops at two sets, limited by the purple, for eight. Her private colour is red, and her five red dice show one, two, three, four and five: fifteen. Three favour tokens remain, worth three, and two open spaces cost two. Her lines read 15, 4, 8, 15, 3, minus 2 — also 43.
Ben finishes third and it is not close, which is the point. One qualifying column pays five, two Light Shades sets pay four, two Color Variety sets pay eight, no favour tokens remain, and three open spaces cost three. But his private line is the best at the table: blue, four dice showing three, four, five and six, for eighteen. His total is 32 — and his eighteen private points, the number the tiebreak runs on, are never consulted, because a tiebreak only speaks to players tied on total, and Ben is eleven points short of the tie.
Now the tiebreak, in order, from the strip nobody clears the windows before filling in. Ana and Cleo are level on 43. First, most points from the private objective: Cleo's fifteen beats Ana's fourteen. Cleo wins the game — not on the columns she dominated, which are already inside the 43, and not on favour tokens, which are never reached because the first tiebreak already separated them. Had the sheet recorded only totals, this game is unresolvable the moment the dice go back in the bag, and the table will re-litigate two private pip sums from memory. Check the totals by hand before you trust them in a listing graphic: 43, 43, 32, settled fifteen private points to fourteen. If your sheet cannot produce those lines, objective by objective, it is not finished.
What the channels actually take from a low-priced set
A score-sheet set is a low-priced download, which means the channel's arithmetic, not your effort, decides most of your margin — and it differs enough by channel that the same file is a good product in one shop and a bad one in another.
On a marketplace with a per-listing fee and a percentage, a cheap set pays the fixed slice on every single sale, so the percentage you think you are paying understates the real cut most at exactly the price point score sheets sell at. Bundling solves part of this honestly: a base set, an expansion set and a league pack sold as one listing pay the fixed fee once on a larger basket, which is a pricing reason to bundle quite apart from the buyer's convenience.
On a percentage-only platform, the same bundle logic runs the other way: there is no fixed per-sale sting, but a flat percentage of a small price is still small money, and the platform that handles tax as merchant of record is taking a real job off your desk along with its cut. That job comes back the moment you sell from your own site, where a flat monthly delivery cost beats a percentage only after a volume threshold most first listings have not reached yet — do the breakeven on your own numbers, at your own price, before moving anything.
Delivery is part of channel economics too, even when nobody lists it as a fee. A buyer who cannot find the file, whose link expires before the weekend game, or whose A4 print clips the tiebreak strip does not usually ask for help first — they refund or they review. Every support email a clean delivery prevents is margin, because your time is the only cost line that scales with every mistake in the file.
That is also why the honest caveats belong in the listing, not in a reply after purchase. This kind of tool — and FileFreight is the one this guide's author sells from, flat monthly, no per-sale cut — does not handle your taxes or act as your merchant of record, does not import your existing listings from another platform for you, and is not a native app inside a marketplace. A buyer who needs those things should buy the tool that does them. A buyer who mainly needs the right file to reach the right buyer, with the download logged, is the buyer a score-sheet set is built for, and saying so plainly is what keeps the reviews about the sheet instead of about the checkout.
The three delivery failures specific to a game scored once, at the very end
Most digital delivery failures are generic. These three are specific to a product whose entire value is one end-of-game count over windows of small dice, and each one maps to a complaint pattern sellers in this niche repeat.
The first is the bagged window. Sagrada's count happens after the tenth round, often while the table is already tidying: dice are scooped off windows into the bag, pattern cards are stacked, favour tokens return to the supply. The buyer prints your sheet, reaches the private-objective line, and finds there is nothing left to check it against, because the sheet gave them one slow total to build while the evidence was being put away. This is a sheet-design failure before it is a buyer failure: the set needs a count-in-order prompt — public objectives first while the windows are intact, private dice written out one by one, open spaces counted last — that gets a window recorded before anyone's tidying instinct reaches it.
The second is the wrong-version delivery. The buyer purchases the set with the expansion or solo version, receives or opens the base file — because the files were named alike, zipped together carelessly, or attached in the wrong order — and discovers at the table that the sheet has no lines for the scoring their game actually used, where an open space costs three, not one. Version discipline is delivery discipline: one clearly named file per version, the player count on the cover page of each, and a first page that says which game this sheet scores and which it does not.
The third is the dead link on game night. Score sheets are bought close to use — often the day of the game. An expiring link with a short window, a delivery email eaten by a spam filter, or a download limit consumed by the buyer's own failed first attempts all land at the worst possible hour, when there is no support reply fast enough to save the evening. Generous download windows, a recovery path a buyer can use without emailing you, and a delivery log you can check when someone writes in are not luxuries in this niche. They are the product working at the moment it was bought for.
Editions and occasions are different products
The base game and the expansion game are two recording problems, not one sheet with extra columns. Added objectives and tools change what needs logging; a sheet stretched to cover everything covers each thing badly. Sell the base set cleanly first. List an expansion set as its own product, with its own worked example, when you have actually recorded a game on it — and keep the solo game out of both, because beating a target score at three points per open space is a different formula, not a variant of this one.
Occasions split the catalogue the same way. A weekly league wants many sheets cheaply, room for four windows a night, and season standings space. A one-off game night wants one beautiful sheet and the tiebreak strip impossible to miss. A gift buyer wants the set to look like an object, not a spreadsheet. These buyers search differently, review differently and refund for different reasons, and a listing trying to speak to all three usually converts none of them well. Pick the occasion your file actually serves and write the listing to that table, that night, that argument about a private colour nobody wrote down.
Print format is an edition too. A fillable version a buyer can complete on a tablet at the table is a genuinely different product from a print-only pad — different checks, different failure modes, different buyer. If you offer both, deliver both as clearly separate files. If you offer one, say which, in the first screen of the listing, before the price does its persuading.
The setup that prevents all three (and when to stay put)
The setup that prevents the bagged window, the wrong version and the dead link is boring, which is why it works. Build each version as its own file with the paper size in the filename. Test-print every file at full size and record a worked game on paper — use the 43, 43, 32 game above if you like; a sheet that cannot hold it cannot hold a real one. Attach exactly the files the listing promises, in the order the listing names them. Set download limits and expiry generously enough that a buyer preparing on Friday for a Saturday game is never locked out of their own purchase, and keep a delivery record you can actually look up when a buyer writes in, so "I never got it" is a lookup, not an investigation.
Stay put, though, if your current channel is not actually failing you. If your sheets are selling, delivering cleanly and reviewing well where they are, moving them for a theoretical saving costs you search position and a working setup, and no fee table repays that. Move when the numbers at your volume say the cut is the problem, when delivery failures are reaching your inbox, or when a buyer segment you want — the league that buys the big bundle, the expansion table that needs its own lines — is one your current setup cannot serve properly.
Sagrada will keep ending the same way it always ends: not with an argument about the total, but with two totals level, the dice already back in the bag, and someone asking — too late — what the other player's purple, or green, or red dice actually added up to. The seller who wins this niche is not the one with the prettiest stained-glass illustration. It is the one whose sheet recorded the game the way the rules count it — every public objective on its own line, every private die written out before it was summed, and private points, favour tokens and final-round order captured in order before the windows come apart. Build that sheet, print it, record Cleo's fifteen-to-fourteen tiebreak win on it by hand, and only then list it.
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