Money leaves a trail, and a cheque is the trail in writing: who paid whom, how much, on what day and, in the memo line, what the drawer was willing to admit it was for.
The bank and its branch, the cheque number, the date, the payee, the amount in figures in its box and again in words, the memo, the account holder and the signature, and the code line along the foot with the bank code, the account and the number. At 175 × 76 mm it is the size of a cheque, and the players can turn it over, hold it to the light and argue about the handwriting. Fill in the counterfoil and it prints on the left behind a perforation; leave it empty and the cheque has the whole width.
A 1920s bank check with an engraved vignette, an Eastern Bloc savings-bank cheque with its counterfoil, a modern personal cheque, a fantasy banker’s letter of credit under a wax seal, and a cyberpunk credit transfer voucher. Any of them takes a stamp across the face — paid, cashed, returned, void. Export it flat or with 2 mm of bleed, at 300 DPI. The receipt for whatever the money bought is a Ticket or a Menu, and the report written when the cheque bounced is an Official Form.