Four ways to draw the same position, so that where a train is, which track it is on, and whether two cards actually join can be read at a glance rather than from a sentence. Nothing here is wired to the engine — these are drawings.
| Where | Trains allowed | What happens if exceeded |
|---|---|---|
| Division Point (either end) | No limit | trains simply queue |
| Mainline card (most) | 1 | a follower needs the Superintendent’s clearance (§8.1) |
| Double Track / Uncontrolled Siding | 2+ — “trains may pass” | no ruling needed at all |
| Whistle Post | 1 A/D track | next arrival is an automatic collision |
| Depot / Station / Terminal | 2 / 3 / 4 | same — collision, −5 |
So capacity is real and worth drawing: it is 1 almost everywhere on the Mainline, 2+ on exactly two card types, fixed by tier at an Office, and unbounded at the Division Points. That maps cleanly onto count the slots.
The through rail sits at the same height on every card, so cards butt together and the line runs unbroken — which is exactly how the printed cards work. Every place a marker may stand is a printed square, so capacity is something you count rather than read.
Strength: closest to the physical game; a player who has seen the cards needs no explanation. Cost: wide. Five cards already fill the strip, and a real Division has more.
How a real dispatcher sees a division: one continuous line per running track, section boundaries as thin seams. Capacity is the number of parallel lines, and a train sits on a line.
Strength: nothing about occupancy or capacity can be misread, and it stays compact at any Division length. Cost: abandons the card metaphor entirely — terrain becomes a label rather than a picture.
The Running Track is the top lane and never moves. Each further track — A/D tracks, industry sidings — is its own lane beneath. Cards become columns, so a card that owns several tracks is simply taller.
Strength: “which track is that train on?” is answered by which row it is in, with no ambiguity anywhere. Cost: a tall card next to a short one looks ragged, and the district stops resembling a map.
The smallest change: keep today’s grid and layout, but draw real rail edge to edge and real squares for standing room. A join becomes rail meeting rail instead of two descriptions that happen to agree.
Strength: preserves the map-like district, and a turnout whose leg goes nowhere becomes obvious. Cost: does least for the Mainline strip, which is where capacity confusion actually bites.
D for your Office Area, B for the Division strip.
They fail in opposite places. The district is a map you build, and it wants to stay a map — so draw the rails on the grid you already have (D). The Division is not a map; it is a queue of sections with hard capacities, which is precisely what a dispatcher’s diagram is for (B), and it stays readable however long the Division grows.
A is the most faithful and the most charming, and I would keep it in reserve: it is the right answer if this ever becomes a table you look down on rather than a panel you read. C solves the one question the others answer least well — which of several A/D tracks a train occupies — so if that turns out to be the confusion that matters most, C for the Office alone is worth revisiting.
Every drawing above shares one idea worth keeping whichever you pick: a square is a place a train may stand, and an empty square is spare capacity. That single convention makes “how many more trains fit here” answerable without a legend.