Go to Part 1

You can’t play an RPG without players. Plus, we all love RPGs and want to share with other people how awesome they are, so it’s always tempting to invite just one player to your game.

But every player you add to your table comes with an inevitable and unavoidable entropic cost.

Take your total amount of playing time and divide it by the number of players: That’s the maximum amount of spotlight time — the maximum amount of focus — that you can give to each player. The more players you add, the less time each player has. You can speed things up, you can cheat a bit around the edges with multitasking and other advanced techniques, but ultimately, no matter how good a GM you might be, you’ll reach a point where individual players are no longer able to participate enough to have a good time.

A fairly concrete example of this is the typical round-based combat system: A player takes their turn and then must wait for everyone else in the fight to take their turn before they can take their next turn. Consider a table with ten players: Even if you got the per-turn resolution speed down to a fairly fast two minutes per turn, it would still take twenty minutes to go around the table. In practice, of course, it’s even worse, because the bad guys also need to take a turn, and the more PCs you have in the party, the more bad guys you need to have in the fight. Once again, you can cheat this with stuff like off-turn actions (although these typically only increase the length of a combat round), but only to a point.

Imagine an episode of a television show in which a character was onscreen for just a couple of minutes. You’d consider that a bit part, right?

That’s what having a too-high player count at your table does: It turns every player into a bit part.

Another problem you’ll run into is niche protection: It’s very easy for an RPG group to fall into a pattern of “let the PC with the highest skill bonus do it.” This sidelines other PCs, but you can route around it in practice by having different PCs be the best at different things, so that everybody gets a turn at being the PC with the highest skill bonus (metaphorically or literally).

As player count increases, though, you start to run out of niches. Some RPGs are better at niche protection than others, but at a certain point you’re also dealing with scenario dynamics that extend beyond the mechanics: How many fundamentally different types of activities are there to do in a dungeon? Or while solving a mystery? Or during a heist?

Once you run out of niches, each additional player increases the risk of your game entering a fail state in which a PC is never the best at a given task, and therefore the player never gets to do anything: The bit player becomes a background extra.

THE SWEET SPOTS

If this entropic cost was the whole story, of course, the logical conclusion would be that the ideal RPG group would always have exactly one player. And that doesn’t sound right, does it?

The reality is that there are other factors at play in determining the ideal group size. (Pun intended.) Perhaps the best way to look at these factors is to run through the various group sizes, including the features and weaknesses of each in turn.

Some GMs will have one specific “sweet spot” for group size that they’re always trying to hit. I tend to think more in terms of, “What’s right for this game/group?” Nevertheless, this discussion will, inevitably, be shaped by my own biases, so take it with however many grains of salt you feel are necessary.

I’ll also note that the player counts here do NOT include the Game Master.

ZERO. There are an increasing number of solo-play RPGs and STGs, allowing you to get your narrative tabletop fix without any other players at all. These games have a unique dynamic and they don’t always scratch the same itch as running a game for players (or playing a game with a GM), but they do have the obvious advantage of being able to play whenever you want to.

ONE. One GM, one player. This table obviously has no problems with spotlight balance and it creates a very intimate experience. This intimacy, however, also creates intensity: The GM never gets a break while the players talk to each other, and the player, similarly, can never slip into the audience stance and recharge their creative batteries. I recommend taking breaks more frequently.

The other problem with having only one player is fragility. Combat is once again the easy example: When you have multiple PCs, a single PC getting knocked down to 0 hit points is a minor problem. When you only have one PC, on the other hand, it’s a campaign ending disaster. (So you’ll want to be very conservative when balancing combat encounters, try to frame fights with non-lethal stakes whenever you can, and probably limit the number of fights in general.)

This fragility, however, is not limited to TPKs. Consider a mystery scenario in which a clue has been hidden under a rug: For the clue to be found you just need one player to realize they should check under the rug. When you have lots of players, that’s lots of opportunities for the clue to be found, but with only one player you’re far more likely to run into blind spots. Plus, the single player has no one they can take things through with and no downtime to ponder things quietly without the GM staring at them, further limiting their ability to brainstorm problems.

TWO. Playing with a pair of players is still fairly intimate. There’s still a lot of fragility with only two PCs, but the players can now bounce ideas off of each other, which helps non-combat fragility a lot. (Two heads really are better than one!)

In practice, this dynamic also substantially dials down the intensity: The players will talk to each other, giving the GM a break. Focused interactions between the GM and one of the players are likely to alternate, giving each player the ability to intermittently slip in audience stance, relax, and regroup.

THREE. This is a very weak group size for me. It lacks the focus of one or two players, but combat fragility remains dangerously high. (This is not, to be clear, a specific mechanical problem: It’s a more fundamental issue of what happens when a group simultaneously loses one-third its firepower and the bad guys refocus their attacks on the remaining two PCs.)

If I’m looking at a group of three players, I will almost always try to figure out how to drop down to two players or step it up to four players.

FOUR. Having four players seems to be the sweet spot for a lot of GMs, and if we look at the issues we’ve been discussing, this probably isn’t surprising. Combat fragility is greatly reduced with four PCs and there are plenty of players to bounce ideas around. Everyone at the table has the opportunity to take short breaks, update their notes, or slip into audience stance during play, but it’s fairly easy to protect niches and balance spotlight time.

FIVE. To put my cards on the table, this is probably my default sweet spot. The dynamics of play remain very similar to four-player groups, but with one important difference: There’s an odd number of players.

This might seem like a minor difference, but in my experience, it has a huge impact when splitting the party. (And you should always split the party.) With four players, the group will always split into pairs, and at many tables they’ll end up being the same pairs every time. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, but it’s a limited dynamic.

With a five-player table, on the other hand, the three-two divide has an inherent imbalance that seems to naturally lead the players to ask, “Which task needs the extra person?” This creates unstable sub-group formation, so over the course of a campaign you’ll end up with lots of different mixes of PCs. You’re also more likely to see some solo split-offs (four-one) and three-group splits (two-two-one or three-one-one). This not only creates a larger range of strategic decisions, it also results in a wider array of party dynamics, creating unique roleplaying opportunities between the players.

The other big advantage of the odd player count is that the party can’t stalemate when they disagree about the best course of action. With four players, two players can want to do X and while two players want to do Y, and the whole session can bog down to an endless debate. With five players, on the other hand, such stalemates will often be resolved with a simple majority vote  and play can quickly move forward.

SIX. This is a maximum group size that I’ll run for, and I’ll usually only do it if there’s a special reason for the extra player. Basically, there doesn’t seem to be any advantage to running a six-player group compared to a four- or five-player group, but the entropic effects of player count really start kicking in here for me: Combat encounters become more difficult to balance. It’s increasingly difficult to keep things moving at the table fast enough so that players don’t become bored. (Plus, you’re back to even-player-count stalemates, further slowing down play.)

Once I get to seven or eight players, things start falling apart pretty quickly. You can certainly muddle through, but the experience is fundamentally compromised for everyone at the table compared to more manageable player counts.

The largest number of players I’ve personally run an RPG for was twelve. To make matters worse, it was a session of 1974 D&D in which most of the PCs had hirelings, sometimes multiple hirelings! The total party size was actually twenty-four characters!

It was a unique and fascinating experience. I don’t regret it. But I definitely didn’t want to repeat it!

I HAVE SO MANY PLAYERS!

Okay, despite my imprecations (and perhaps your best intentions!), you find yourself with an unmanageable number of players. The exact count we’re talking about will depend on your preferences, your skill, your game system, and your group, but unmanageable is unmanageable.

What should you do?

SPLIT THE TABLE

Eight players are unmanageable, but two tables with four players each would be awesome.  So the easiest thing would be to just split up the unmanageably large group into multiple smaller groups.

The two major disadvantages, of course, are that (a) the players don’t all get to play with each other and (b) now you need to prep and run two separate campaigns.

OPEN YOUR TABLE

You can expand on the concept of splitting your table by opening your table: Instead of having a dedicated group in which all of the players meet for every session, you instead boot up a campaign where players can show up whenever they’re available and you can run an adventure for whatever the impromptu group ends up being.

If you’ve already got an unmanageable number of players, then you’ve already got a solid player base for a great open table. Even better, an open table empowers you to invite even more players to your game!

Of course, your goal is to keep your player counts manageable, so you’ll want to impose a table cap for each session.

At first glance, it might seem as if this would mean that players would end up playing less, but the quality of that play will be substantially higher. And if you have a group that only plays if a certain quota of players is met, an open table can paradoxically result in every player actually getting to play more as the open table organically routes around scheduling conflicts.

The process for this is described in more detail as part of the Open Table Manifesto.

A SECOND GM

One way to turn the unmanageable into the manageable is to get more hands on deck managing it.

There are a number of different ways that a second GM – or, more accurately, a GM team-up – can be used to good effect, but one is to bring larger player counts under control.

This only works with very specific set-ups, though. Ideally, you want to be able to split the party. (In fact, you’ll want to encourage the players to do so.) And you’ll want to have a second playing space so that the second GM and their section of the group can step away and play separately.

This effectively doubles up large sections of your playing time, allowing you to steal a march on the clock.

MULTIPLE PCs

On the other end of the spectrum, what if you don’t have enough players? (Just one or two players, for example.)

You can, of course, adjust your scenario design to accommodate a small PC group, but this can be surprisingly difficult. (Ironically, games designed to protect niches for larger groups may make it difficult or impossible for a single PC to do everything required for a successful session.)

Apply enough elbow grease, of course, and you can always make it work somehow. A more straightforward approach, however, can be to simply have each player play multiple characters.

It should be noted that this can be quite difficult for players. Some players just won’t enjoy the character-swapping, since it can be disruptive to what they enjoy about a roleplaying game. But if it works, it’s a great way to make smaller gaming groups viable!

Even if you have players who don’t want to (or can’t) take on the challenge of multiple PCs, hirelings played by the GM may be another option. This, too, can be quite difficult, particularly with everything else you’re juggling as a GM, but it can be another easy option if it works for you.

Go to Part 18: Too Precious Encounters

As the pic says, I’ll be doing a signing at Tower Games in Minneapolis, MN on Thursday, December 7th @ 4pm to 7pm.

Tower Games
3920 Nicollet Avenue
Minneapolis, MN 55409

They will have copies of the book available for sale, but you’re of course welcome to bring your own. And, of course, I’ll be more than happy to sign any of my other books or games, too.

This is currently the only dedicated signing event I have planned for So You Want to Be a Game Master, so if you’re in the area, I hope you’ll drop by!

Go to Part 1

When we talk about mystery scenarios, we obviously spend a lot of time looking at clues. Broadly speaking, a clue is something that an investigator can use to reach a conclusion:

• The murders always happen on the night of a full moon; therefore a werewolf is responsible.
• The accounting records reveal that John Fairbanks has been making payments to the corporate saboteurs.
• The trail of footprints leads to Old Man’s Cave.

And so forth.

A hint, on the other hand, is similar to a clue, but DOESN’T point to a conclusion. They’re less specific than that. They’re suggestive of something more general or, perhaps, ephemeral. Another way to think about is that a clue provides an answer, but a hint suggests a question.

This doesn’t, however, mean that a hint is necessarily subtle. Stuff like

• A bloody handprint smeared across the wall;
• A portrait with the eyes gouged out; or
• The front door of Alicia’s house being ajar when you arrive

can all be very obvious and in-your-face, even if it’s not entirely clear what’s going on.

Other hints, though, might be so subtle that the players might not even realize they were significant until later, like:

• Broken pieces of glass on the floor of a dungeon corridor.
• “Silver snakes” being mentioned off-handedly or metaphorically in several different lore books.
• A slightly greasy residue on a door handle.

Hints are not just random set dressing, though. They are, in fact, hinting at something. (It’s right in the name.) It’s just that they are so fractured, partial, distorted, or incomplete in their nature that their true meaning cannot be fully perceived. The difference between photograph and a dim shape glimpsed murkily through a thick fog.

USING HINTS

Hints can be used to achieve a number of different effects.

They can set mood or tone for a scenario. Basic examples include simple signals that “something weird is going on here” or “something terrible happened here.”

They can also serve as a warning of danger. This can be highly situational, but whether it’s a bloody knife or a broken vase of flowers lying on the kitchen floor, PCs who take the hint might realize it’s time to draw their guns, call the cops, or activate their shielding charm.

Similarly, a hint can be a signal to investigate. A sort of, “Hey! Look over here!” Whatever the PCs find upon taking a closer look, of course, may have nothing to do with the original hint.

Tip: A hint suggesting the presence of a trap can be a fun combination of danger warning and investigation signal.

Hints can also more broadly serve as a form of foreshadowing. Why did all the toy soldiers have their legs ripped off? While initially being just a creepy-yet-enigmatic detail, the truth will become apparent when the PCs meet the legless zombie boy who’s been locked up in the attic.

Something to be aware of when using hints is that there’s not always a sharp distinction between a clue and a hint. Players can also be devilishly insightful, so don’t be surprised when they perform a bit of intuitive judo and somehow glean great truths from the most inscrutable details.

This is, of course, just fine: The goal of a mystery, after all, is for the investigators to acquire knowledge, and the players will likely be incredibly stoked to have solved such a fiendishly difficult riddle.

But it can be a useful reminder that, if there’s something the PCs absolutely must NOT know (for whatever reason), then even hinting at it may be dangerous. You might get some mileage from figuring out how to hint at the thing that hints at the truth. That ought to slow them down… for a few scenes, at least.

Next: Proactive Nodes

Raiders of the Serpent Sea is a third-party campaign for D&D 5^th Edition created by Brent Knowles, the lead designer of Dragon Age Origins, and released by Arcanum Worlds, who are also the publishers of Odyssey of the Dragonlords, Heroes of Baldur’s Gate, Minsc & Boo’s Journal of Villainy, and Chains of Asmodeus.

The campaign is set in a world inspired by Norse mythology, with the PCs as reavers seeking the immortality of glory in the shadow of a Ragnorak-esque apocalypse. When it hit Kickstarter I’d already been scoping out sea-based campaigns, and I’m always a sucker for Norse mythology, so it was nearly a no-brainer for me to back the five-hundred page mega-tome.

This, however, is not a review of the campaign book. It is, instead a review of the Player’s Guide that accompanies the campaign.

Personally, I’ve grown quite skeptical of player’s guides. In theory, the idea of a slim, slickly produced book that I could give to my players to get them amped up for an impending campaign sounds like a great idea. In practice, however, I’m almost always underwhelmed. The biggest problem tends to be that they’re cheaply produced by mostly copy-pasting text from the main book, which would be okay if it was properly rewritten for the players. But it frequently isn’t, resulting in a book that I can’t give to players without inundating them with spoilers that are better delivered during actual play. The result is a book with no utility at all.

It’s probably not surprising, therefore, that I skipped right past the Raiders of the Serpent Sea player’s guide and went directly to the main campaign book.

I quickly realized, however, that this was a mistake. The main campaign book kept referring to material from the Player’s Guide, and it quickly became apparent that this guide was, in fact, essential. Far from an afterthought, it had been designed as an integral part of the campaign.

So I set the campaign book aside and pulled out the Player’s Guide.

And I was deeply impressed by what I found.

THE WORLD OF GRIMNIR

The world of Grimnir was born from apocalypse: The Yoten had invaded the lands of the Vanir and, thanks to the betrayal of the mage-turned-god named Mirgal, had driven them to the verge of destruction. In the final battle, Aldyhn, the leader of the Vanir, slew Mirgal and performed a powerful rite which turned his blood and flesh and bone into the seeds of a new world. The Vanir fled into this new world, leaving the Yoten trapped behind.

The legacy of apocalypse, however, lies deep within the rock and waves of Grimnir, and now this world, too, is threatened with destruction.

As presented in this primer, I really like the world of Grimnir. It’s not just history with the numbers scratched off. Knowles has been legitimately inspired by myth and legend, and then built creatively from that inspiration to create something unique and fascinating.

For example, not all of the inhabitants of Grimnir crossed over from the old world. There are native peoples who were born with the world. Which raises a fascinating and fantastic dilemma: To whom does the world belong? Those who created it or those born to it? Both? Neither?

The gods, it should be noted, are not the Norse gods. Again, Knowles has taken inspiration, but created a legacy of fresh myth, redolent of Norse themes — of divine betrayals in a world born of betrayal; of a struggle against inevitable nihilism; of a warrior’s glory and doom — in new-minted wonder.

The major factions of Grimnir are the Raiders (i.e., your Viking heroes), the Baendur Kingdoms (young kingdoms ripe for raiding), and the Witches of the Ironwood (servants of a dark lord).

My only gripe with the presentation of Grimnir in the Player’s Guide is that the two-page map world map was printed with nearly all of the label layers turned off. I’m fairly certain this was a production error, but it makes the gazetteer and description of the world almost incoherent. If you’re giving the Player’s Guide to your players, I recommend also giving them a copy of the properly labeled world map from the full campaign book.

(To be honest, even with the labels turned on, there seem to be some inconsistencies between the map’s depiction of the world and the text. But it definitely helps.)

BACKGROUNDS

Raiders of the Serpent Sea includes several “epic backgrounds.” These backgrounds — the Bonded, the Cursed Raider, the Fallen, the Royal Heir, and the Vigilant One — are designed to be taken instead of the normal backgrounds from the Player’s Handbook.

What makes these epic backgrounds particularly notable is that they’ve been integrated into the campaign. While still giving the player a ton of freedom for customizing the details of their character, they provide a starting story connection, along with heroic tasks and epic goals seem to be designed so that they can potentially be achieved in several different ways during the campaign.

Now, I haven’t seen how the campaign actually executes on this concept from the other side, so I don’t know how well it actually pulls this off. But I like this A LOT.

I’ve talked before about how you should create characters who are integrated into the campaign, and also how published adventures are forced to feature generic hooks (since they don’t know your campaign or who your PCs are), but that you can super-charge your campaign by making the hooks specific to your group.

When you start talking about published campaigns, on the other hand — instead of modular scenarios — it seems odd that so many of them are still designed around the bland, generic hooks. The players will be creating characters for this specific campaign, right? So, unlike a modular adventure, a campaign book can absolutely give you and your players guidance on creating characters who will be deeply tied to the campaign.

So it’s very exciting to see Raiders of the Serpent Sea do this in a robust and interactive way.

PLAYABLE RACES

Raiders of the Serpent Sea includes several new playable races.

Beastborn are literally animals who see a humanoid community, become enamored of their lives, and  become human themselves in order to experience the lives they see. The book includes guidelines for customizing your own beastborn based on any animal, along with prebuilt options for hunter-gatherers, fish, and fowl.

Grims can sort of be thought of as merpeople, but with a distinctly Norse flavor to them. Importantly, they are the native children of Grimnir, their souls touched by the dead demigod who gave their world existence.

Tallfolk are small giants, their origins shrouded in mystery. They are always found as babes on the edges of the forests near Turnfjall, but none are certain who their parents are or why they are abandoned to become foundlings.

Tuss have the blood of the hated Yoten flowing through their veins. They can live their lives as humans — many are not even aware of their secret birthright — but in times of great stress or need, their Yoten blood may reveal itself.

Wicker are tree-golems, created to serve some ancient purpose which has been long-forgotten, even by themselves.

I really like all of these options. I’m probably not doing a great job of capturing the flavor, history, and unique identity that drips off the page here.

In fact, although the book assumes that you’ll be including the standard array of D&D races, I would be strongly tempted to ditch all of that while running Raiders of the Serpent Sea and use only humans and the original races presented here.

CLASS ARCHETYPES

The last big chunk of the Player’s Guide are twelve class archetypes, one for each of the core classes in the Player’s Handbook.

I haven’t personally playtested any of these archetypes, so I can’t be entirely certain how they work in actual play. But, reading through them, I really like that the design seems to be willing to take some BIG swings, which particularly manifests in a willingness to embrace bold, exciting flavor even if it can’t necessarily be nailed down to a convenient, combat-optimized mechanical package.

So you end up with a monk who is the chosen Wanderer, positioned by Fate at the fulcrum of reality. A wolf-riding ranger. Rogues who choose worship the dead god from whose bones the world was forged. Sorcerers who become disconnected from reality, believing that either they or the entire world is an illusion.

And so forth. Just grand, daring concepts that capture the imagination and are backed up with clever unique class abilities.

CONCLUSION

The rest of the Player’s Guide is fleshed out with a medley of interesting stuff:

• New spells;
• Ships for the PCs to own (although the actual ship rules appear to be in the campaign book);
• A one-page primer of the world for quickly introducing players who don’t want to read the full guide;
• Equipment;
• Mechanics for oaths, curses, and glory.

A surprisingly rich treasure trove for a slim, 80-page volume.

Ultimately, the Raiders of the Serpent Sea Player’s Guide turned me from a skeptic into a believer. It got me excited to read the full campaign, I’m certain it will get players amped up to actually play in the campaign, and it’s easy to imagine it being an erstwhile companion at the table for the duration of the campaign.

GRADE: B+

Designer: Brent Knowles
Additional Writing: Gage Ford, Atlantis Fraess, Carter Knowles, Linden Knowles, Brandon Korolik, Zack Webb

Publisher: Arcanum Worlds
Cost: $8.00 (PDF)
Page Count: 80

Buy Now!

This is going to be a finesse technique, the kind of hyper-specific tip that’s probably not worth focusing on until you’ve mastered a lot of other skills as a game master. (Like the ones described in So You Want to Be a Game Master.) But it’s a subtlety that I’ve found to have a remarkably out-sized impact on the flow of a session.

Imagine that you’re calling for an initiative check: The players all roll their dice, do the appropriate mathematical rituals for your current system of choice, and immediately begin shouting out their results, often at the same time.

Your mileage may vary, but I often find – particularly with larger groups – that this leads to a lot of confusion. I’ll miss or lose track of numbers as I’m trying to get them all written down, leading to a lot of unnecessary back-and-forth between me and the players. I’ve even had a few cases where I’ve realized I didn’t catch someone’s initiative result and asked them to repeat it, only to discover that the player had forgotten what they rolled!

So the tip here is pretty straightforward: Don’t do that.

What I’ve found is that the groups that run smoothest are the ones who roll their initiative check and then wait for me to individually call for the results.

GM: Initiative checks, please.

(dice are rolled)

GM: Nasira?

Jacqueline: 16.

GM: Tithenmamiwen?

Sarah: 24.

And so forth.

Usually I’ll just go around the table, but you can also read the table pretty easily and start with whoever finishes calculating their initiative first.

For a long while, I was aware that collecting initiatives was really easy for some of my tables, but a clusterfuck for others. Eventually I figured out what the difference was (players waiting to deliver the information in turns rather than all at once) and I started training the players at my other tables to follow suit.

It sounds simple, but the difference it makes is startling.

OTHER GROUP CHECKS

Obviously this same technique may apply to other situations where everyone at the table is making a simultaneous check, but I’ve personally only found it necessary when I need to track and write down the specific check results (or other numbers).

More broadly, it’s useful in any situation where you’re resolving each PCs’ result separately. In the case of the typical initiative check, this resolution is recording the results and sorting them into the initiative sequence. Another example would be checks with multiple degrees of success or failure, where you’re probably going to want to resolve the precise result of each check for each PCs’ result in turns.

For other checks, you may find it more useful to focus on identifying the threshold of the check. In other words, if you know what number each PC needs to roll in order to succeed, you can probably resolve each check result near-instantaneously and mentally keep track of which PCs succeeded.

Of course, in some games this will include initiative, since there’s a wide variety of initiative systems out there. For example, in Numenera initiative is resolved by having the PCs make a Speed check against the level of their opponents: Those who succeed go before the opponents (in any order of their choosing); those who fail go after them. That’s just a threshold and it’s usually straightforward to keep track.

If the PCs are facing mixed opposition of multiple levels, however, it’s possible for some of them to go between the bad guys, and I’ll usually transition back to collecting results in turns. (Or I’ll ask, “Who succeeded at level 5? Who succeeded at level 3?” and collect them in batches.)

BONUS TIP: ROLL INITIATIVE LAST

A related tip that I’ve shared before is that, rather than rolling initiative at the beginning of an encounter, you should instead roll initiative at the end of an encounter, write down the results, and then use them for the next encounter.

(This won’t work in every system, but in most systems initiative modifiers never change, so it doesn’t really matter when you roll the check.)

When it looks like the PCs are about to encounter something, roll for its initiative and slot it into the order. If they don’t encounter it for some reason, no big deal, you can just scratch it out.

Using the technique, by the time combat starts, initiative is already completely resolved, so there’s no delay where you ask for initiative, the dice are rolled, your players tell you the results, then you sort those results into order, and then…

Instead, you can start combat instantly. When the PCs are ambushed, for example, you can deliver the adrenalin-packed punch of the ogre smashing through the wall and immediately roll into the action, instead of deflating that moment with the mundane bureaucracy of collecting initiative scores.

SOFTWARE TOOLS

If you’re playing on a computer or have a computer at hand while playing at the table, then VTTs, spreadsheets, and other software tools can often be used to automatically generate, sort, and otherwise manage initiative scores.

The only limitation I’ve found when using these tools is that, if I have a laptop at the table, it’s usually because there’s some other utility that I’m using the screen for (e.g., searching PDF rulebooks, accessing stat blocks, etc.). I generally want the initiative information in a combat encounter at my fingertips, so I don’t want to be tabbing through windows trying to find my list. Make sure to take this into account when setting up your software tools.

FURTHER READING
GM Don’t List: Not Writing Down Initiative
OD&D Combat Sequence