Becoming "Human" (Mothership Downtime)

 Mothership has a wonderful character creation process, where a few random “flavor” rolls both convey a lot about the setting, as well as tantalizing suggestions about the character. One of these is a roll for a patch. In the new Mothership campaign I have begun, one of the player characters, Isaac, is an android. Isaac’s player rolled a patch that said “Travel To Distant Places /Meet Unusual Things / Get Eaten”. Incredibly, he rolled for his loadout (starting equipment) Manufacturer Supplied Attire (AP 1), Jump-9 Ticket (destination blank). Riffing on the android class, with it’s uncanny valley features, and these poignant travel-themed details, the player decided that his character was an older, obviously inhuman model. Ashamed of his own limited humanity, he had taken to traveling the universe, collecting experiences and travel photos as though the very human activity of being a tourist would somehow make him more human.

When the party completed the scenario Bones & Videotape and received a large payout I asked them what they wanted to spend their 200k credits on. Without missing a beat, Isaac’s player said that he wanted to buy upgrades to be more like a newer model, and so more human.

Since I found this Tin Man scenario touching, and since we’ve decided to proceed with a full blown Mothership campaign playing Gradient Descent, where the line between human and android is a great theme, I decide to write a full downtime activity for Isaac. This is intended as a set of upgrades offered to androids, preying on their deeply felt desires for human experience and perhaps internalized self-loathing, to sell them a vision of “becoming truly human”.

One thing I became interested in while trying to write the upgrades is how clearly the vision of “being human” on offer privileged a neurotypical human experience. In essence, the idea of “upgrading” “abilities” to “become more human” immediately raised the question of what it means to be human in a register that suggested an ableist answer to this question. I decided to lean into this. Androids are indeed being sold by corporations and chop shop doctors a crude picture they may have of “what it is to be really human” that characterizes human beings at best only unevenly and problematically.

For the purposes of this system, Androids begin with a “Humanity” score. (Note: this is a reverse version of “the Bends” from Gradient Descent”—for a similar aproach see this wonderful thread, which contains spoilers.) “Humanity” is a score that indicates how much the line between android and human has been blurred. I think it would be natural to use this score to see if an android can “pass” as a human in some circumstance. Personally I won’t be doing that, because my table includes a trans player, who is not playing the android character. I don’t want a casual jokey approach to medical interventions that result in changes to the body along some identity line, where the politics and desire to “pass” get thematized in a casual and potentially careless way. (If it were their character, and their idea, I absolutely would be open to exploring this theme through the post-human lens.)

Another use for the “Humanity” score is to adjudicate whether the android PC does things in a human way. Because Mothership does not tell you what an android is and how they differ from a human, this question comes up all the time. Some of the modification below flesh out the differences, but many others are not mentioned. You can always roll “Humanity” to see whether your PC functions in a human way. You can also use it to see whether the android can mitigate the “uncanny valley” effect in some social circumstance to overcome human prejudice, which is probably how I will mainly be using it. (In Gradient Descent, Monarch will also weaponize this score.)

Becoming Human Downtime

Isaac’s model is Mark VII running Cumulus wetware operating system (brain), created by Cloud Industries. The most advance model on the market now is Cloud Industries’ Mark X running Alto Stratus wetware. The Mark X is an exorbitant model. Mark X’s with a full suite of upgrades can be found as companions and assistants for corporate executives, ambassadors, and socialites.

The Mark X acts and experiences the world as a human to a greater degree than older models. With a lot of money and surgical interventions, one may further tighten the gap. Here are the starting “Humanity” scores for different models, along with what features they come already equipped with. When an android character is created, the Warden and player decide together what model they are, although for working class space horror on dingy freighters, it is likely that the character will be a Mark VII or Mark VIII.

Mark VII: Humanity 0, No upgrades

Mark VIII: Humanity 5, Skinstillation, Emotion Processing Upgrade I

Mark IX: Humanity 10, as Mark VIII plus Karotin Production Module, Emotion Processing Upgrade II

Mark X: Humanity 20, as Mark IX plus Blushware, Positive Affect Enhancer, Humor Upgrade, Chuckleware

Procedures

An android may take the downtime action of Becoming Human by locating a chop shop and paying the listed amount for any single upgrade for which they possess the pre-requisites. After declaring the downtime action and spending the required credits, the player rolls the die indicated in the upgrade description to see how much “Humanity” the android acquires. The player then makes the save listed for the upgrade, suffering the results listed for a failure until the next downtime unless a longer duration is specified.

Note that the text of these upgrades are written in corporate adspeak.

Upgrade Your Humanity!

Skinstillation 25kcr

Tired of looking like a plastic crash test dummy? Upgrade your skin to have a more natural, “almost human” look. Elicit admiring responses like, “I thought I was talking to an actual person.”

Increase “Humanity” by 1d4.

Failed body save: Break out in egregious acne.

Blushware 10kcr

Pre-requisite: skinstillation. Tired of always looking so dull? Let your inner blush show when those compliments rain down! Introduce natural human coloring that is responsive to exertion and emotion state.

Increase “Humanity” by 1.

Failed body save: Turn beet red at even the slightest embarrassment.

Sweatshopped 10kcr

Pre-requisite: skinstallation. Produce perspiration when the weather is hot or you are working hard. Nothing says “being human” like wiping the sweat from your brow. Smell like a human does too — so relatable!

Increase "Humanity” by 1.

Failed body save: Sweating profusely. Clothes stink.

Karotin Production Module 10kcr

Grow real hair and nails in all the normal spots, just like a human would. Luxuriate in your full mane of hair. Ask yourself, is the real you a blond?

Increase “Humanity” by 1.

Failed body save: the hair is a distraction, rubbing the wrong places, brushing shoulders, in your eyes. Make combat rolls with [-].

Digestimax 25kcr

Tired of eating androjuice and protein slurry all the time? Install a digestive system, so that you can process and derive nourishment from solid foods. Complete with the full human waste disposal system.

Increase “Humanity” by 1d4.

Failed body save: Vomit when attempting to choke down solid foods.

Tastemaker 50kcr

Pre-requisite: digestive system installation. Have trouble caring about what nutrients you put into your mouth? Imagine savoring the taste of synthesteak, and the floral bouquet of a glass of nuchardonnay in the dim light of your favorite bistro. With this upgrade, you too can be a regular.

Increase “Humanity” by 1d6.

Failed body save: Constant craving. Every hour eat a ration or acquire 1d6 stress.

Orgone Equipment 50kcr

You don’t need to be flat down there! Get sex organs so that you can experience the oh-so-human pyrotechnics of sexual fulfillment.

Increase “Humanity” by 1d6.

Failed body save: absolutely horn-dogging it.

Emotion Processing Upgrade I 50kcr

Supercharge your wetware with more intuitive understanding of the emotional responses of human beings. Increase your cognitive empathy and learn to “read the room” and “pick up on social cues”.

Increase “Humanity” by 1d6.

Failed sanity save: Horrified by the contempt you now realize human beings radiate towards you. Gain 1d6 stress.

Emotion Processing Upgrade II 100kcr

Pre-requisite emotion processing upgrade I. Bring your cognitive empathy close to that of an average neurotypical human being! Adds a neural net to your wetware that advances significantly your ability to understand the emotional state of human beings.

Increase “Humanity” by 1d8.

Failed sanity save: Astounded by the network of

Negative Affect Enhancer 25kcr

Savor bittersweet regrets. Allows you to feel more fully a range of negative emotions, such as fear, anger, and despair.

Increase “Humanity” by 1d4.

Failed Sanity save: Your fear save lowers by 20 points. Permanently.

Hatecore 25kcr

Allow the hate to flow through you! Have you ever wondered what it would be like to really hate those who have abused you as an android? Relish the dish that is best served cold.

Increase “Humanity” by 1d4.

Failed Sanity save: Acquire an obsession with revenge against an NPC. Each downtime you do not take steps towards vengeance, gain 1d4 stress.

Positive Affect Enhancer 50kcr

Ever wonder what it feels like to have “a good day”? Wonder no longer. The positive affect enhancer allows you to feel more fully a range of positive emotions, such as affection, pride, or contentment.

Increase “Humanity” by 1d6.

Failed sanity save: Your newfound positive feelings blunt your edge. Take [-] on all speed saves.

Love Handle 100kcr

Pre-requisite: Positive affect enhancer. Experience love, the most human emotion of all. Lose you head with infatuation on your new crush or fall head over heels for your soul mate. You too could find a match made in heaven!

Increase your “Humanity” score by 1d8.

Failed sanity save: You acquire an ongoing crush. Maintain the crush until you try to shake it by taking a relevant distracting downtime action and succeeding at an intellect save. Each downtime the crush persists, you must attempt to cultivate a relationship with the love interest during downtime or take 1d6 stress.

Chuckleware 100kcr

Pre-requisite: Positive affect enhancer. Instead of being the butt of the joke, what if you could be in on it? Let the hilarity of the universe wash over you and take refuge in a good joke during hard times.

Increase your “Humanity” score by 1d8.

Failed sanity save: You spontaneously laugh at inappropriate moments until the next downtime. At sensitive moments, the Warden will ask for sanity save to avoid loud laughter, e.g. revealing your location if hiding or offending NPCs.

Oneiric Core 100kcr

Pre-requisit: Positive affect enhance, negative affect enhancer. What could be more human than to sleep, perchance to dream? Instead of powering down or entering maintenance mode, cozy up beneath the blankets for a good nights sleep! Experience that rich and meaning laden dream life you’ve been hearing so much about.

Increase your “Humanity” score by 1d8.

Failed sanity save: Anxiety dreams and nightmares rattle you. Take 1d6 stress.

Aesthetic Receptor 100kcr

Pre-requisite: Positive affect enhancer, negative affect enhancer. Ready to get the chills or lose yourself in tears while lost in your favorite novel? Take the step from cold rational appreciation to the warm emotive responses that suffuse human aesthetic appreciation.

Increase your “Humanity” score by 1d8.

Failed sanity save: The Warden will inform you when you are struck by the magisterial beauty of something: space, an explosion, the unfolding of an alien form. On a failed sanity save, you are rooted to the spot and cannot act for the round.  

Group Downtime Activities: Remembering the Dead

The system of downtime actions I created is individual by design, built as a counterbalance to OSR games where the action is focused relentlessly on cooperative exploration, so that characters might develop as individuals and chart their own path between adventures. (If you are unfamiliar, for an illustrative downtime activity, see here.) However, I have come to believe that it is desirable to incorporate some group downtime actions into this system in cases that involve the need for group buy-in or where the experience is inherently collective.

Group downtime activities differ from individual ones in that they require a quorum of at least 3 participating characters all of whom must spend their downtime action performing the group activity. If they are unable to form a quorum, then the action is not available. Having formed the quorum, in some cases each player rolls separately for the outcome of the action where the relationship to the group activity is more personal. In other cases, where the upshot is more collective, a single roll is made for the entire group. As usual, these rolls are 2d6, subject to a base modifier and a situational modifier with a result of 6- a failure, 7-9 a mixed result, and 10+ a success. What the follows is the first of several group downtime activities I have been working on. More to follow soon.

Remembering the Dead

Howard Pyle

To lose an adventuring companion is no easy thing, especially having shared many hazards and tight spots. Rites of remembrance give communal form to grief. They take many ritual forms from the bright dancing flames of a funeral pyre to the return of a corpse to the dark earth; from solemn visitations when sitting shiva to the boisterous celebrations of a wake. These rituals provide a way to commemorate and honor the dead so that the living may carry on without forsaking the memory of those who are gone.

All that is required for a humble rite of remembrance is the gathering of a few friends to share some memories over a libation, or a few words spoken before a hastily assembled cairn. But a proper rite of remembrance, befitting the individual’s achievements and stature in the community, respectfully planned and resourced, is more fitting for both the living and the dead. Thus, the base modifier is set by the collective expenditure on the funeral, which may come from any source.

Once the funds have be secured, the group should describe the rite of remembrance, where it occurs, according to what rituals, and which NPCs if any are invited. Before rolling each player character may opt to say some words commemorating their fallen comrade: sharing a memory of the character or saying something heartfelt about what they appreciated about them. This provides a further situational modiferOnce this is completed, each player rolls 2d6, adding the following modifiers:

Base Modifier: 

0         GP                     -1

250     GP x Level         + 0

500     GP x Level         +1

1000   GP x Level         +2

Situational Modifier: 

+1 for words commemorating the deceased character.

Results:

6-      Mourning is Hard: Roll on the Memories Table and take the Unresolved Mourning condition.
7-9    The Dead are Remembered: Roll on the Memories table.
10+   The Dead Live On: Pick a result from the Memories table.

Memories (1d6)

1. An Example to Us all: Gain XP equal to deceased character’s level x 200. 
2. Unexpected Inheritance: The player of the deceased character may specify what remarkable item they have bequeathed to the living character. If no such item exists, the GM may invent one that no one knew the deceased character had.
3. Carry on the Work: The player of the deceased character may specify which downtime project to bequeath to the living character, transferring the associated downtime tracker, but decreasing it by one step (to a minimum of 1). For example, the living character might pick up a relationship with one of the friends of the deceased, or acquire steps towards mastering a martial technique, skill, magical research, or spiritual exercise, or inherit an institution the deceased was building alone.
4. Channel their Memory: Taking inspiration from the deceased, the living character can perform one extraordinary feat. The GM in collaboration with the player of the deceased character will devise a one-use power that is a tribute to the character’s achievements or endearing features. For example, if the character did some great fast talking, the one-use power might be used to persuade any NPC of one thing.
5. Protection of the Dead: The character is watched over by the spirit of their fallen comrade who will intervene to a replace the results of any single roll with the best success possible (e.g. the highest roll on the die). The player may declare they are spending this one-use power after they see the results of this roll. There is no expiration on this power.
6. Visitations: The character may declare that they have been visited by the dead, receiving vital information of a helpful nature in a dream. The GM will provide real, vital intelligence, of great help to the character on the topic they have selected, even if there is no way for living to know about it.

Unresolved Mourning

Mourning is messy. The rites of remembrance have stirred up unresolved feelings for your character. The GM and player should agree on the form this unresolved grief takes. Perhaps the character feels guilty about the death of their comrade, or angry at someone responsible, or are afraid of suffering a similar fate. The GM will determine what effect the condition of unresolved mourning has, drawing from the following list as examples.

• Progress on one downtime tracker is stalled.
• Use of one class power is impeded.
• -4 on saving throws.

The GM will inform the player what adventuring goal they must achieve to remove the condition, such as getting revenge for the character’s death, or achieving some adventuring objective that would be meaningful for the character or somehow honor their memory.

Downtime: Home away from Home

 I had some more thoughts on downtime I wanted to share. But first, speaking of downtime, it was just announced that my supplement, Downtime in Zyan, is one of the winners of The Awards 2023! You can check out the full list of winners here. It’s an honor I share with my team. Downtime in Zyan is what it is thanks both to the meticulous layout of Lester B. Portley, and especially to Evlyn Moreau’s superb mole rat illustrations, without which the supplement would be a hollow shell. But back to the topic at hand.

My downtime system is designed to deliver various goods. It serves as an antidote to the relentlessly cooperative and world-focused character of OSR play by allowing PCs to develop some uniqueness and depth. It facilitates the pursuit of individual ends in addition to the collective ones. By not gating downtime behind name level play it allow players to pursue their dreams and leave their mark on the campaign world from early levels. It is also designed to be part of a virtuous circle with adventuring, so that downtime itself creates hooks and problems to be solved through adventuring, and adventuring creates the possibility of further downtime.

Last time I was talking about the problem of the transition in an OSR style campaign between the quick jaunts of early sessions, in and out of perilous adventure locales in 1 or 2 sessions, and the more ambitious many (4-8) session adventures that tend to organically arise starting at mid levels. The thought was that if you have reached the point in the campaign where players adventure for 4+ sessions, and you give players one downtime session every time they return to home base, downtime dwindles in significance. To keep players invested in downtime, I suggested calibrating downtime to the number of sessions adventuring, giving multiple downtimes when returning home after longer adventures.

This time I wanted to talk about a different trick you can use to allow downtime to work with longer jaunts into dangerous territory. The setup I’m thinking of here is one where there is a homebase that is safe where downtime usually happens and most or all adventuring happens in some perilous terra incognita, a hostile area to be explored that lies in some sense “outside” the homebase. A classic example would be a megadungeon, where there is a “town”, and all (or most) adventuring happens in the exploration of the hostile subterranean dungeon. Other examples might include a West Marches style wilderness crawl with a town on the edge of some howling wilderness, or what is on the other side of a certain printmaker’s door in the waking world. In these cases, to penetrate deeper you must often travel further and further from home base, which in turn leads to longer adventures.

Iain McCaign, Deathtrap Dungeon

One way to limit this problem is to create discoverable shortcuts, e.g. secret doors, hidden elevators in a dungeon, or secret entrances that lead directly into deeper levels. But another way to handle it and keep downtime going is to establish possible basecamps where downtime can happen that also serve as staging areas for deeper exploration. These are, in essence, a home away from home. I’ve been thinking a lot about what you need to do to make this option sing.

Introducing a second space for downtime is a delicate balance. If you design the basecamp so that it provides everything the homebase does, and it is more conveniently located, then your basecamp will predicatably become the campaign’s new homebase. While I think it’s great if this arises organically, I don’t think you want to design the basecamp to force that decision. The biggest problem is that many downtime activities are tied to a location and so not transferable, particularly two of the most important: cultivating relationships and building institutions. It’s unfortunately when some PCs have been sinking time and resources into building something special back at the original homebase and the GM more or less mandates that downtime play shifts to a new arena.

My way of handling this problem is to treat basecamps as scaled down version that presents a smaller world of possibilities than homebases. What you want is enough for people to become invested and pursue downtime while on larger expeditions, while also welcoming the eventual return home to the original homebase.

In fact, there is a spectrum here. At one end, you might have locations in the dungeon or wilderness that offer primarily a single unique downtime action. A couple of options to incorporate in a dungeon might include:

• A perpetual feast of viking ghosts in a Valhalla style mead hall that one can join for spectral revelry

• A dungeon library, manned by demonic librarians, where can research the kinds of mysteries found in lower levels of the dungeon.

• An efreet smithy who uses elemental fires to craft splendid weapons for visitors who can pay his price.

This designs a foothold, a stopover where some may want to do the main downtime action, and others might do an alternative one, like engaging in martial training with a drunken viking ghost, or cultivating a relationship with a demonic librarian, without there being much staying power to the location. At the other end, there are basecamps proper that have real opportunity to build something lasting. How can you build a proper basecamp?

The answer is that you should employ the same techniques you use to build an original homebase, which I talk about at the end of Downtime in Zyan, but give it a more limited and small scale flavor. In brief, since my system of downtime generates problems and adventure hooks with many mixed success rolls it also needs to be a space rife with factions, rival institutions, patrons, in short people with desires and an a potential interest in the PCs adventuring in.the unknown. If we just look at the core of my location specific downtime activities we can see some features we’ll need:

• Build an institution: There should be some pre-existing institutions, including perhaps rivalries, along with space for building new institutions.

• Cultivate a relationships and Gather Intelligence: There should be interesting NPCs, who have some tensions, and who may want various things that adventurers could provide through adventure, who have access to a rumor mill, and who may be interested in serving as adventuring companions.

• Revelry: There should be some possibilities for debauches to blow off steam.

Others downtime actions are either more player driven, or seem more optional, but potential sources of fun might be to include some NPCs that have skills to teach, or some warriors who can engage in martial training, or some special site for spiritual exercises, or a trove of information to engage in research.

To really make a basecamp sing, I think you also need a new version of a campaign events table might used for a homebase, but geared towards the specific nature of the basecamp.

An Example: The Hanging Merchants

Illustration of the Hanging Merchants by Michael Raston

The most developed example from my 3 dreamlands campaigns are the hanging merchants, which is right outside the harbor near the Great Falls of the sewer river mentioned in issue 3 Through Ultan’s Door. I discussed a very early iteration of them on my blog here. (They will appear in a more developed form in the first issue of Through Ultan’s Door that takes us into the White Jungle. I’m not totally sure what number that will be.) The basic setup is this. When the Zyanese still traveled the White Jungle, the hanging merchants were a carnival like attraction for visitors to take a day trip down the sewer river to see the sewer falls and get a little taste of the white jungle. It also served as a staging ground for safaris and travel to the jungle manses of the aristocrats. The idea is that no one goes into the White Jungle anymore, and the platforms are now ruined and abandoned except for four merchants.

Each of the four merchants specializes in a different sort of goods. Two of the are over-merchants, from wealthy houses. Each of these over-merchants is locked in bitter rivalry with the other, and each is beholden to a powerful rival jungle patron who will seek the service of any party that uses the area as a basecamp. There are also two under-merchants, with much humbler shops, whom the over merchants look down upon. Finally, there are the Sons and Daughters of the Vigilant Watcher, a mercenary house that the merchants pay to provide protection against jungle incursion and river piracy.

I model the four merchants as four separate rival institutions the players can choose to bolster. (Certainly the Sons and Daughters taken together as a mercenary house are also an institution.) There is also the possibility of trying to open a fifth shop, or more grandly, of trying to restore the platforms of the hanging merchants to their earlier splendor by fixing the place up and attracting visitors. (Each of these two projects was pursued by in separate campaigns by players: one group tried to build up one of the under-merchants, and the other took on the task of restoring the whole place to its former grandeur.) Furthermore there are plenty of NPCs to befriend here, as well as sources of information. Since the Over-merchant are eager to host lavish parties there is the opportunity for revelry as well, and since each under-merchant has a specialty in respectively jungle botany and animal husbandry, there are skills that can be learned as well. 

 The campaign events for this basecamp includes special goods coming in to the merchants, restocks of sold wears, visitors to the platforms of the merchants from Zyan above, stranger visitors from the jungle below, a couple of jungle related events, and so on.

In short, if you’re doing the kind of campaign where you have a fixed homebase, with all adventuring happening in hostile terrain, consider introducing one or more footholds where downtime can be pursued in the deeper areas of exploration. This can provide variety and keep downtime relevant as the campaign often pushes further from homebase.  

Further Thoughts on Downtime and the Campaign Arc

 

Art by Evlyn Moreau

I have been using my downtime system, published in Downtime in Zyan and originally presented across this blog here, for my face to face dreamlands campaign. This is a game with a stable group of 4 players rather than a bigger open table game. Over this campaign and my previous one, which also have shrunk to a 4 or 5 person group of stable players at the higher levels, I've discovered a tendency that undermines the use of downtime over time. I think it's a tendency that arises in games where the initial default at low levels is short jaunts to perilous adventuring locations--getting into and out of a dungeon in one or two sessions. In that context downtime as I've designed it works very well. 

On my system, each character gets one downtime action between adventures from a large menu of freeform options. It involves a 2d6 roll with base and situational modifiers. Generally, there's a tracker with a certain number of steps to complete the project. A 7-9 is a mixed result that often requires one to adventure to make progress or eliminate an obstacle. A 10+ is a straightforward success. The general idea is that in a game relentlessly focused on cooperative play, this allows player characters to pursue their individual dreams and leave their mark on the campaign world. 

In online games I handled downtime actions in discord between sessions. This was fun, because you could prep and go deep with downtime, dropping tons of lore or colorful NPCs. But sometimes it was hard to corral people to do downtime between sessions, and I very often found myself failing to "do my DM homework", which sucked the air out of downtime. In face to face games I've found it works better to resolve downtime at the start of a session in about 30 minutes at the table without much prep on my part. 

Here's how I start that 30 minute period. I have a system of tables for campaign events, along with some clocks that get triggered by past player actions. So I start by telling them the campaign news to give them something to react to if they want to, which every once in a while includes a threat that needs to be dealt with in downtime or the opportunity to perform time-sensitive downtime actions. Then I remind each player of all the downtime actions they had going in the past. Without keeping notes about this and reminding them what they've been doing, I find that they leave a ton of loose threads and have trouble remembering what they had going. This really diminishes the significance of downtime. But with a little reminder of what they've been up to in the past this problem vanishes.

I then move around the table to have them declare downtime actions. I then begin resolving the actions. I find that I weave between different players as they resolve the actions, switching the spotlight at dramatic moments. They often advise one another or make creative contributions along the way, so people stay pretty engaged. This makes for a very dynamic 30 minutes that players look forward to as a reward between adventures. But the main point is that it doesn't involve very much homework for me at all. Sometimes I think for about 15 or 30 minutes before the game about it, but sometimes I don't think about it at all. Everyone understands that it's more freeform and improvisational than the sessions we're running, and I think they like that rhythm of the more structured adventures and the more improvisational downtime. 

The problem I've identified is that as the party rises in level, and gets invested in the campaign world, they start going on longer and longer adventures. What was once one or two sessions in the dungeon becomes six or seven sessions of hex crawling, or city crawling, or hopping between three different adventure locations to accomplish some multi-part mission. I could try to stop this but I wouldn't want to because it feels organic and allows us to play a deeper game driven by more ambitious player objectives. This means that downtime diminishes in significance to a nearly vanishing point since it happens so rarely. People feel disconnected from their projects, which feel impossible to finish anyway. Downtime decreases in importance precisely at the point where it should matter the most, when the player characters become increasingly invested in the campaign world, and ought to care the most about accomplishing self-invented projects. 

My new solution to this problem is to grant the party multiple downtime actions after a longer adventure. The thin rationale is that if an adventure takes 4 or more sessions to complete, then the characters need a longer break and may take an extra downtime action. (This is related to an earlier idea I had about using downtime to model a campaign hiatus, discussed here.) I've found this solves the problem. The difference between 1 and 2 downtime actions is noticeable in play. It allows each character to pursue two different dreams at once, or to suddenly make a lot of progress on one project. Each downtime feels like a big deal. Given that downtime is happening less often, I think it really helps to keep them invested in the downtime phase. When they've just come back from a six or seven session adventure, it also creates a lovely feeling that we're closing one chapter and opening another. In an anarchic game that is a player driven sandbox without narrative arcs or discrete planned chapters, this is a nice organic substitute. 

Downtime in Zyan: Pants or No Pants?

Downtime in Zyan, my new zine, has just launched on Kickstarter! The zine presents a system for downtime, the activities characters engage in between adventures. Brought to life by the whimsical and alluring art of Evlyn Moreau, the mole rats of Zyan will show you how to transform the neglected space between adventures into a site where player-driven schemes and dreams grow with delightful results.

Head over to the campaign and you'll see some exciting stretch goals. Half of the stretch goals for this project are about sharing the profits with my dream team. It’s a way of recognizing Evlyn for her fantastic art that has brightened our collective existence for the better part of a decade in this corner of indie rpgs, and Lester for his visionary graphic design and layout, which has given Through Ultan’s Door its distinctive (and award-winning) look. Both members of the dream team also played in my original dreamlands campaign, Evlyn as her character Satareh who explored the hanging Summer Palace in the bright groves of the inverted White Jungle, and Lester as the lizard man gladiator Sleestakarus whose dreamland picaresques include snatching victory from the jaws of defeat in the Gauntlet of the Panther Priests. It means the world to me to be working with them both on this project. Along the way there are also Kickstarter exclusive stretch goals that provide a handy reference to the system of downtime activities as well as a pamphlet with special rules for carousing in Zyan!

This Kickstarter presents two versions of Downtime in Zyan. The first is the modest edition. In keeping with the human preference for pants, this version has added bottom coverings to the illustrations of mole rats that otherwise would appear naked to human eyes. The cover illustrated above is drawn from the modest edition of Downtime in Zyan. But this Kickstarter also presents an option to purchase a Kickstarter exclusive bold edition of Downtime in Zyan that presents the mole rats as they actually dress and prefer to be seen: without pants. I encourage you to think of your pledge for the zine as a vote between these two editions. Choose sides in this eternal struggle and back this Kickstarter by clicking here!

Stay tuned, I'll have more exciting news on blog soon about Through Ultan's Door 4. Until then, I'll see you in slumberland.

Downtime Activity: Gathering Intelligence and Spying

Often players will want to gather intelligence about something during downtime from other people. This can take many forms, from gossiping over drinks, to the use of stool pigeons, or casing a joint, or more daring activities like spying or going undercover. The DM has a strong interest in enabling this activity, because good intelligence is an opportunity to introduce hooks that interest players, and also allows meaningful player choices. 

These downtime activities takes inspiration from Robert Parker's masterful Savage World of Krül rules, with which Robert ran one of the legendary games of G+. I will have more to say about that game on another occasion. For now I just want to let you know that the basic idea (although not the details) of these rules came from Robert's wonderful system of downtime activities. 

A note on hiring people to do things. The general thrust of downtime activities has been no "outsourcing". But my thinking has been evolving here. The new principle is "if you want to do something right, do it yourself". I also try to fold in the whole issue of "hirelings" into the system of cultivating relationships with people. You want lackeys. FINE. Build the relationship. 

Gathering Intelligence (Rumormongering)

Suppose a player wants to chase down some information about something, like a group, or location, item, etc. This is the downtime action for them. 

The player first specify what they want information about. They next specify the group from whom they want to try to learn something. The DM will say whether that group might know something or whether there's no point in talking to them about. (There is no such thing as wasting this action by asking the wrong people.) The player will then say how they go about trying to elicit the information. 

Do they share war stories and buy the mercenary outfit free rounds of drinks to learn about a certain enemy they've faced? Or maybe they want to track down rumors about a traveling caravan by bringing trade goods to an outpost?  

The player may also use this downtime activity to turn up something interesting, in the spirit of "Dm throw something fun my way." In that case, they no longer have to say what they're trying to learn about, but they still have to say who they're trying to get the information from and how they're doing it. 

 

To perform the downtime action, spend 1d6 x 25 gp and roll 2d6. Apply modifiers from the following list up to a max of +3:

• Add 1 for each relevant relation (at the level of acquaintance or higher) you have who might help you chase down information with the relevant community
• Add 1 for each relevant fictional advantage you have, for example, being well-loved by a given faction you are gathering information from, or having some juicy gossip they'll love to hear.
• Add 1 for each additional 100 GP you spend to grease palms.  

On a 6-: no useful intelligence gathered. 

On a 7-9: the player turns up real information, but the DM has the option of inserting some sketchy material, either by making the information somewhat ambiguous or misleading, or by mixing truth with a bit of outright falsehood. The DM shouldn't say whether they have or have not exercised this opiton. 

On a 10+ solid intelligence.

One problem you might have with this system is that the players will know from their roll when the intel might be shaky. But I like the idea that players have a sense when there might be something dubious about the information they got. 

Spying

Sometimes you don't just want to chase down information. You want to infiltrate an organization, or case an establishment, or spy on an ambassador. This is he downtime action for you.

The player first proposes a target to spy on and a goal in terms of what they're trying to learn. They say how they will be pursuing that goal. 

The DM then sets a tracker to get the relevant information. The tracker, will usually consist of successive layers of information to be unlocked, but sometimes it might just have a single payoff at the end. The tracker should be longer the more involved and difficult the job is. 

If all you want is to case a joint, then it's likely a one step tracker. If you want to infiltrate the inner circle of a mob boss or king, the tracker might have 7 steps. (You could also use a modified version of this system to handle sabotage or assassination. Instead of information, the result would be the desired outcome.)

Spend 1d6 x 50GP on expenses for the operation (more if high society infiltration is involved). Then roll 2d6 and add the following modifiers up to a maximum total of +3. Here's a version for Jorune and for D&D.

Jorune Version:

• Add disguise skill modifier if relying on a false identity. 
• Add culture skill if relying on high society, etiquette, or specific cultural knowledge.

D&D Version:

• Add 1/2 your assassin level (rounded up)
• Add 1/3 your thief level (rounded up)

For both Jorune and D&D: 

• Add +1 for each relevant contact
• Add +1 for each fictional edge you would have given the details of your plan and your capabilities

6-: Failure with complication. No progress on the tracker. Roll on the Spy Troubles chart below to see what complications have arisen from your failure.

7-9: Success with complication. Advance one step on the tracker. Roll on the Spy Troubles chart below to see what complications have arisen from your failure.

10+: Success! Advance one step on the tracker.

This kinda generic chart is written with infiltrating a powerful organization in mind. You might need custom tables for different sorts of jobs.

Spy Troubles 1d10

1. Bad reputation. Other people have seen you with the organization, and you are starting to get a bad rep with factions that don't like it. This may be hard to shake. 
2. Mixed up with the wrong people. You learn that someone you know or love is somehow mixed up with this organization in a way that troubles you and may, possibly, threaten your cover. 
3. Expensive proposition. Owing to a looming disaster, you suddenly need to come up with a lot of funds to keep the operation going. 1d6 x 100 GP or no further progress is possible on the tracker.
4. All the wrong friends. Someone from the organization is getting too close for comfort. Maybe like an affectionate puppy they followed you home and now know something about you, or maybe they romantically propositioned you. Whatever it is, they are trying to insert themselves into your life in a way that is risky. The DM may bring them in during a session to introduce complications.
5. They are getting suspicious. You slipped somehow and someone is harboring suspicions. Unless you take care of the problem, for example by doing something to prove your loyalty, or discredit the suspicious person, a second spy troubles result will result in serious trouble (50% frozen out, 50% cover blown).
6. Moral quandary. To prove you bona fides you must do something your character would rather not do. The DM will tell you the choice you face. If you choose not to do it, no further progress on the tracker is possible. The DM may or may not allow clever workarounds.
7. You're not the only one! You and another spy have made each other. Their purpose is not the same as yours. This is a delicate situation that may need to be addressed. Until it is resolved, further spy troubles involve the DM picking a result that is produced by the rival spy.
8. Blackmail. Someone knows what you are doing, and is trying to shake you down. Pay your level x 100 GP per session until the tracker is completed. Or maybe they want something more interesting.
9. Frozen out. Someone got suspicious and you are now frozen out. Ghosted. No further progress possible.
10. Cover Blown. You've been made! The group stages a confrontation. This could be anything from a kidnapping to a bitter discussion. You can play this out, or make a second custom 2d6 roll to see what the result is, given the nature of the organization. 

Procuring a Spy

Suppose a player wants to do this, but doesn't want to spy themselves. In order to procure a spy, they must first do so through cultivating a relevant relationship. Normally, you can only get someone who you can trust and is able to do the job if you have cultivated a relationship with the person through downtime activities. 

The player must spend a downtime action trying to recruit someone and setting up a mission. Roll 2d6 with the following modifiers to see if they're willing to take the job. You may proposition as many relations as you want for a single downtime action. 

• Acquaintance -1
• Associate +0
• Friend +1
• Intimate +2
• Dangerous Mission -1
• Very dangerous mission -2
• Double pay +1

6-: No thanks.

7+: Yes. 

The cost is twice their level x 100 GP per downtime, and triple their level if they are an assassin. If they are 0 level, then it costs 50 GP. 

Have them make a roll each downtime as if they were a PC, with a -1 penalty. (You can still apply modifiers if they have the relevant skills, but the max positive modifier is +2.)  If you want a job done right, then you have to do it yourself! Generally, the DM should involve the PC who is hiring them in any problems that result from spy troubles, i.e. they come to the PC for help with the problem, and in the worst case scenario (cover blown!) the organization has a 50% of tracing the rat back to their employer. 

Downtime Activities at Underworld Adventurer: Carousing and Finding the Right Buyer

At the blog Underworld Adventurer, Nick K. has been doing some really interesting things using my framework of downtime activities. I wanted to highlight two of their posts and take it as an opportunity to talk about designing downtime activities.

Finding the Right Buyer

The way Nick handles treasure is that the more obviously liquid items like jewelry or gold bars can simply be converted to their GP value upon returning to town. But what about those valuable but more speciality items, like a gorgeously carved chair, or alchemical gear like alembics and retorts? Nick decided to create a downtime action to handle this, which you can read here. 

Here's how it works. The character spends a downtime action to look for a buyer and the player rolls 2d6. On a 6- they roll on a table of complications, which has entries like selling the item for less than it's worth, or attracting the attention of the thieves guild. On a 7-9 the sale goes through and the player receives the GP value. On a 10+ the player rolls on a "Noteworthy Success" table with results like selling it for more than it's worth, or finding an abiding patron. 

Nick's rationale for having a 6- be the complication was that to have a 6- be a failure to find a buyer would disincentivize the use of this downtime action, which essentially attaches a downtime cost to what in many games would be handled with a wave of the hand. In cases like this, I think Nick handles this the right way, replacing failure with an automatic success plus a complication. Keep in mind that you're pretty likely to get a complication (~40%) and pretty unlikely to get a noteworthy success (~10%). This represents the riskiness of trying to set up possible illicit sales of looted goods.

The two separate tables is also simple and direct. I would use this downtime action pretty much as written, maybe expanding the tables a bit to build in some more emerging adventure possibilities. 

Carousing at Underworld Adventurer

Carousing rules are a staple of retro-game downtime play. In fact they're the one part of downtime that has gotten sustained and broad attention. On the standard-average model proposed originally here, the player spends 1d6x100gp (or more in a big city) on a wild binge, drinking away their fortune like Conan would, and gets that many experience points. The player makes a saving throw against poison. If they fail they have to roll on a big chart of mishaps, with results like a wicked hangover, venereal disease, or ending up hitched to someone you don't remember marrying. 

There are more complicated variants out there, like Gus' pleasing approach that gives you a bonus to the roll on the consequences chart if you roll well on your save, with positive consequences at the high end like winning at gambling or becoming famous as the life of the party.  

I've been pondering how to incorporate carousing with my system of downtime actions. Well, Nick went and put together a splendid version for elves or "hobs" who can carouse in the "Twilight Shores", a sort of Lyonesse-inspired elfin hinterland. It's flavor is delicious. 

Mechanically, the way Nick made it work is this. The player rolls 1d4 and spends the result x 100 GP on the carouse, getting that much XP. They make a poison save as usual. If they pass then they add the first roll (the 1d4 roll) to their consequences roll, and if they fail they subtract the first roll. The idea, I guess, is that if you spend big that could go either really well or really badly. 

The consequences roll is the typical 2d6 downtime roll with the chart extended to 16 at the top (good results) and -2 on the bottom (bad results), sometimes with results differentiated by whether they passed or failed the save. The chart has glorious results: at the low end you can end up with an asses head, or an appointment to duel by riddle with an elf lord, and at the high end you can receive favors from elfin potentates or benefit from various temporary glamours. I like this a lot. 

But it's a little fiddly in terms of how many rolls and modifiers there are, and also breaks with system by using the 2d6 roll for the table of random results. For my own version, I'd like to keep parity with the rest of my system by whittling it down to a single 2d6 roll with bad/mixed/good results, and a single followup roll on a table. I'm interested in trying out the model Nick used for finding the right buyer here too. Here's what I came up with.

Carousing in Mazirian's Garden

Carousing is a downtime action. You go on a wild bender and spend 1d6 x 100 gp (or as much of that as you have). The character receives as many xp as gp spent for the use of the downtime action and rolls 2d6. On a 6- the player rolls on the carousing mishaps table. On a 7-9 they have a swell bender with no ill effects. On a 10+ they roll on the carousing boons table. Once again, this gives you a fairly high chance (40%) of having a mishap--a fair risk for a hefty XP reward. But there is also a small chance (10%) that something good will have come of your intemperance.

In the version for Zyan, I'd certainly follow Chris Kutalik's lead for Fever Dreaming Marlinko and have a different table of mishaps and boons for each different neighborhood. (This is another way to give a local feel and texture to the place, allowing characters to build attachments to particular parts of the city.) But for starters, here's are some tables written with Rastingdrung in mind, a city whose sole recognized religion is the Temple of Ulim, a pleasure cult dedicated to plumbing the depth of hedonism. I've drawn freely on the carousing posts I linked to earlier for inspiration, but I've tried to expand the tables in directions that will generate interesting adventure hooks or complications. 

Carousing Mishap 1d20

1. Hangover – A soft, nauseous stomach, painful pressure behind the eyes, you’re hung over and roll at -1 on all physical actions next session.
2. You got caught up in a tavern brawl, start the next session 1d4 HP down (min. 1) with a huge black eye or other visible wound. 
3. You make a fool of yourself in public: you decide how. You have gained reputation as a lout. -1 on all reaction rolls and attempts to cultivate relationships in the city until you can improve your reputation somehow.
4. You promised you'd do something for someone that you really wish you hadn't promised. Decide what it is: the promise should either be humiliating or a pain to fulfill.
5. You vandalized property of a rival if you have one, or someone your character would disapprove of if you don't. It dawns on you that the victim will likely find out its you if they just ask around.
6. Eating street food from that filthy cart seemed like a good idea at the end of a long night. Roll a save vs. poison to avoid having acquired a parasite. 
7. In the euphoria of the evening, you let slip something crucial you shouldn’t have, like the location of a dungeon, or your possession of a magical weapon. This will come back to haunt you. 
8. You lost something. Dice randomly to see which item from your character sheet you lost. 
9. You have gotten yourself in an awkward romantic situation. You either have led on someone of consequence (a hireling, a rival, a potentate) whose feelings you do not reciprocate, or you have find yourself in an unpleasant romantic triangle. If your character would not romance, then it's the same thing but with someone who thinks they're your new best friend.
10. While under the influence, you insulted someone  inadvertently acquiring a rival or perhaps a new frenemy. 
11. That divine concoction, you simply must have more! You’ve matured, and you deserve the best! You have acquired expensive tastes. Your high end tastes now require double investment on your future carousing rolls. The effect of carousing is unchanged, and the extra money wasted.
12. The Scarlet Censors raided an establishment while you were present and you were fined an additional 1d6X50 gp. If you cannot pay, you are in debtors prison in the White Halls until someone can bail you out or you can arrange an escape.
13. You have acquired an addiction to one of the many rare substances available for consumption at the Temple of Ulim: 1d4: 1. Black Lotus 2. Opium 3. Virdian Powder 4. Hashish. Anytime you return to town you must acquire and indulge in your vice (spending 50 GP x Level) on intoxicants.  The inability to obtain sufficient intoxicants results in a -2 on all rolls during the next session.
14. It all came down to that last roll of the dice, or that last hand of cards, and you failed, busted, rolled out, got cheated.  Either way you lose your level x 1d4 x 50 additional GP. If you cannot pay, you now have a debt to organized crime.
15. You went on a drunken spending spree and bought something expensive that you really don't need or want 1d4 x 100 gp. (Decide what it is.) If you cannot pay, you stole the thing or promised to pay for it later.
16. You invited someone on the next adventure who the party has reason not to want to come along, like a rash noble boy whose parents will be furious if he is harmed, or a rival, or someone who is obviously a shady character.  
17. You did something you profoundly regret, offending a friend (lose one tick on a relationship clock). If you do not have any ticks on a relationship clock, then you spoil another party members relationship to someone (they lose a tick on the relationship clock). If no one in your party has any relationship clocks, then you ended up the night drinking alone and start the session feeling bleak (-4 on saving throws for the session). 
18. You behaved in a contemptuous way, or otherwise caused offense, to a hireling. (Decide how.) You now have a bad reputation among the pool of available hirelings, who will only serve for double fees until you somehow make it right, say by saving the life of a hireling or displaying real generosity.
19. You have commit a blasphemy against the Temple of Ulim that has attracted the attention of the Scarlet Censors. There is a warrant for your arrest and you will likely be subject to unpleasant consequences in the White Halls if captured. 
20. You have no memory of the bender, but you have a feeling that something went very wrong. Likely you committed some crime, or saw something you really shouldn't have seen. You may be in trouble with criminal enterprises or the law. The DM will consult with you to see what things are not comfortable with your character having done, but otherwise will decide what you did and keep it a secret until it comes up in game.

Carousing Boon 1d20

1. After a magical night, you feel like you're still walking on water. Take +4 on saving throws for the next session.
2. Some substance you consumed (intentionally or unintentionally) last night has you pumped with a first time high you'll never recapture. For this session, you have 1d4 extra hp. These are not permanent, but when they fade they will leave you with a minimum of 1 hp.
3. This one's on the house! The drinks were freeing flowing over the course of the night, and many of your expenses were covered by a drinking companion, whether a dissolute noble or the owner of a drinking establishment. Retain half the gp you spent on carousing, but take the full xp reward.
4. The night was extraordinary and you will never forget it. If you want to you can share with the group one memory or image or scene from the evening that you will carry with you forever. Acquire an additional 50% experience from your carousing expenditure.
5. You shared some special times with an old friend or made a new one. Increase your relationship tracker by one step with this person. You pick the NPC, or if it's a new friend make a proposal to the DM. 
6. You begin an exciting new romantic relationship. Propose a known NPC or make one up. If you character would not engage in romance, then treat this as the prior result.
7. You befriended an animal during the night--a playful monkey, a hungry dog with soulful eyes, a devious parrot--you decide. The animal will stay with you if you let it, and can be trained to do useful tricks.
8. You did something to improve your relationship with hirelings, perhaps standing up for a hireling or drinking with guild members. You decide. You now have a good reputation among the pool of available hirelings, who will work for you (alone) for 50% the normal cost. 
9. During your revels, you find yourself with a unique opportunity to set back the interests of a rival. Collaborate with the DM to decide what this means. If you have no rival, you acquire a piece of information that gives you leverage on some NPC.
10. While under the influence, someone else lets slip a secret of some significance. The DM should say who spilled the beans, and provide you with real actionable intelligence or, at the least something very amusing (and potentially compromising) about a known NPC.
11. It was legendary night and you did something amazing: ate a dozen ghost peppers, pulled down the pants of the hated executioner and got away with it, outdrank a minotaur--you decide. What you did is now the talk of the town: receive +1 on all reaction rolls in the city until your reputation changes.
12. At some drinking establishment you found something valuable, a purse of coins, a ring, a scroll case, a treasure map, a weapon. The DM will roll on a treasure table to see what you found. It may present adventuring opportunities, and it is always possible that the person who has lost the item will come looking for it.
13. It all came down to that last roll of the dice, or that last hand of cards, and it was your night to win! You receive Level x 1d4 x 50 gp.
14. Over the course of the bender, someone offered to sell you something you desire for a greatly reduced price. Decide what the object of your desire is. The DM will price it and then cut that cost in half. 
15. During the night, a unique business opportunity presents itself in the form of an offer from one of your co-revelers. In the cold light of day, it all checks out. Collaborate with the DM to decide what the opportunity is. You may invest up to 250 gp and roll 2d6 at the next downtime when the investment matures: 6- you made 50% on your investment 7-9 double your investment 10+ triple it.  
16. During your debauch you met someone--perhaps a retired adventurer with grizzled beard and pain behind his eyes, or the garrulous apprentice of a great sorcerer--and learn from them about a lucrative adventuring opportunity. The DM will tell you what it is; it may or may not be time sensitive. 
17. During your revels you party at some out of the way spots and end up discovering a new secret location, a secret drinking club, an illegal gaming house, perhaps even the locations of the thieves guild.
18. As a result of your hedonistic experiments in drug use, your body's capacity to contain and tolerate toxic substances evolves. Lower your poison save by 1 permanently.   
19. Your revels were watched closely by a Voluptuary in disguise, who travels amongst the people to look for those touched by the spirit of Ulim. Your excesses that night received favor with him or her, and the Temple wishes to reward you for your holy profligacy. Decide what you did to attract this religious admiration. Whatever it was, the result is that you get a rare invitation to one of the "Gaming chambers", the secret subterranean pleasure dens of the Temple of Ulim. On another downtime, you may throw a party there with access to all the pleasure enhancing equipment of the temple. Everyone who attends gets double XP for the money they spend on carousing. 
20. As you penetrate deeper into the revels, you realize that something profound is happening: a hedonistic spiritual awakening, a vision quest, an enlightenment through excess. Decide what the spiritual journey you have embarked on is, creating a tracker for a new spiritual exercise in collaboration with the DM. Mark off one tick on the tracker for the progress. Who knows what enlightenment lies at the end of this journey? Perhaps a permanent increase in your wisdom score, or a vision that will reveal something of great value to the party, or the single use of a spell you otherwise wouldn't be able to cast. (Remember that the more potent the result, the longer the tracker should be.) If this is only the first of many spiritual exercises, perhaps you are on your way to becoming an Ulimite saint!

Using Multiple Downtime Actions for an Adventure Hiatus

People enjoy snickering at Gary Gygax's infamous pronouncement that a campaign without strict time records is meaningless. But he had a point for AD&D rules as written, which do require information on the passage of time for all kinds of things which have to do with downtime: cost of living expenses, training to raise a level, learning and creating spells or scrolls, creating magical items, reading magical tomes, building castles, and so on. The passage of time was built into the structure of downtime in AD&D 1E, so that to use the numerous downtime systems of that ruleset you actually do need to keep strict calendar time. So one way to read Gary's remark about calendar keeping is as emphasizing the importance of downtime activities for longterm campaign play, along with the point that in AD&D 1E they work through the keeping of time records.

In a way, my system of downtime activities introduces an alternative, more free-firm, gamified version of the passage of time, with abstract units of downtime. For me this is less fiddly and more fun, but no less rigorous in its way. The rule is that you get one downtime activity between ordinary adventures. (And can do whatever else you want to do that's not a downtime action and makes sense fictionally--do I really need to say that?) This abstract unit represents the passage of time through the allotment of the opportunity to undertake activities. Should one need to convert from downtime actions to calendar time for some reason, one can lay a rough metric on it with a downtime being one week, or two weeks, or a day, as makes sense given the implied rhythm in your game. But, when it doesn't come up for some fictional reason, the system encourages you not to think about it too much.

This post is about another way you can use downtime actions to mark the passage of time. You can use the assignment of multiple downtime actions to represent a longer than usual period of time between adventures. Given a natural rhythm to your campaign, a hiatus from adventuring may be pleasing to the party and make good fictional sense. Suppose the party began in the City State of the Invincible Overlord, reaching 3rd level through local adventuring, and then went an Odysseus style nautical excursion around the Wilderlands, visiting the Silver Skein islands and everywhere else for many sessions. Suppose in their travels they have amassed a great deal of treasure, and risen to 5th or 6th level when they return to their original home base of the City State of the Invincible Overlord. Maybe it makes sense, returning as heroes and seasoned adventurers, with money to spend, and no immediate pressing business, that at this point that the party would take a break from the adventuring life to focus on other pursuits. You can use downtime actions to represent getting on with life and advancing other projects. Here's a rough guide:

Short Hiatus:                             3 downtime actions.
Medium Hiatus:                        6 downtime actions.
Long Hiatus:                             9 downtime actions.
Very Long Hiatus:                    12 downtime actions.

The first might represent a restful month. The second, perhaps a period of some months. The third, perhaps a year. And the fourth, several years, or even a decade.

Complications

Now, there are some issues with this use of downtime. There's the boring one that players might try to abuse this system by "advancing the clock" to gain power in the campaign. I say this is boring, both because as a grownup you can negotiate this interpersonally if it does come up, and also because I think the problem is actually the opposite: in dynamic games there are enough high-stakes balls in the air at any given time that the very last thing the players will want is to step back and let things just play out.

Another, more serious, problem is that several downtime actions have dynamic complications that need to be resolved through play. Building an institution, cultivating (some) relationships, and spiritual exercises all have dynamic mixed results that require player intervention. There are several ways you might handle a mixed result. One way is by narrative fiat, say in a play by post mode. The player rolls a complication on a downtime action. The DM then describes the challenge that arises. The player then says how they overcome it. The DM rules whether this makes sense, keeping notes with a view to introducing consequences down the line. Or, instead of fiat, the DM might develop a mini-game with further rolls to see if an attempt at overcoming a complication succeeds, perhaps at the cost of further complications and spiraling downtime actions on a failure. (Note that this would penalize rolls that hazard mixed results, and discourage players from pursuing them.)

Another way to handle it, which could be a lot of fun I think, is to have an "interlude" or "palette cleanser adventure". The idea is that you run a single lower stakes session (or multi-session) adventure focused entirely on the problems that result from the downtime roll. Only players involved in the action play in the session. This is an opportunity to let a player character that maybe hasn't had the spotlight as much get a chance to shine and develop their character. It would be the equivalent of an issue of X-Men that focuses solely on one team member, or the D&D equivalent of a mini-series (if multiple session). This also gives you the chance to switch genres a little bit. For example, we might see some adventures involving a thief pulling a low-stakes con job to handle a complication that's arisen with building an institution. Or you might see more low-stakes socializing, or something akin to an Agatha Christie style murder mystery to overcome the fact that a PC has been framed for a murder by a rival for the affection of an NPC with whom the PC is cultivating a relationship.

Getting the Band Back Together

However you handle the complications that arise during downtime, at the start of the first session where the group gets back together, you should mark the occasion. Linger on it. Have them set the scene about where they get the gang back together again. What's the place they meet? What kind of night is it? How do they each make their appearance? Especially if it's been a while, have everyone describe how their character looks different as the result of the time that's passed and what they've been up to. Give them a chance to tell the other players about their accomplishments and hijinks. (This will work especially if you communicate about the downtime rolls separately with each player.) It will be a nice segue back into the bloody work of adventuring.