Features

Continuous Time-Lapse

Sleeping no longer teleports the world to morning — it accelerates time, at a pace the server sets, while the world keeps genuinely running.

Get into a bed at night and time rushes visibly past: furnaces smelt, crops grow, brewing stands bubble, and the sky wheels overhead. Each sleeper adds an equal share of the speed — alone you set the full pace; with two of four players in bed, the night runs at half. A full night streams past in moments with everyone asleep, and a furnace smelts close to a full stack while you dream.

The acceleration is real ticks under a hard millisecond budget that caps the whole tick, so the server holds its tick rate and the night stays smooth — and a struggling server degrades to a slower night rather than stalling. Players still awake share the fast night, and an action-bar line (✦ Time ×10 — 2 of 4 asleep) says why the stars are streaking. The share counts only players actually present: an AFK player (idle five minutes, tunable) drops out of it entirely, so a session left at the keyboard neither speeds the night nor drags it down — and any input rejoins them instantly.

On a shared server a quiet chat whisper — Alex is in bed (2/4) — names who climbs into or out of bed with the running tally, so "who's sleeping?" stays answerable. It lands in chat rather than the action bar, goes silent once the night is over, and stays quiet in a solo world. announceSleepVote = false turns it off.

Restful Saturation

Going to bed on a full stomach heals you overnight.

Eat until your hunger bar is full, then sleep through the night: every 2 points of saturation restore 1 heart by morning — a supper of steak or golden carrots can carry you from battle-worn to full hearts by dawn. The reserve is spent doing it: you wake healed, but hungrier than you lay down. Cooking well before bed is mechanically worth it.

Sleep runs deeper the darker the moon. The heal per point ramps across the lunar cycle: plain at the full moon, half again as much at the quarters, up to double on the new moon — the darkest night, one in eight — when the same reserve heals like a feast and you wake deeply rested. Waking three hearts richer shows a quiet action-bar line on any night.

Phantoms of the Heights

Insomnia is gone; phantoms get a territory instead of a grudge.

Phantoms never spawn because you skipped sleep. They are a natural nocturnal hazard with a territory: the high sky above Y=100 on any night, and everywhere under a new moon — one night in eight. Mountains and sky bases have a native guardian, new-moon nights are events worth planning around, and phantom membranes are earned by climbing, not by staying up out of spite.

Everything about the phantom itself stays vanilla — daylight burning, cat avoidance, drops — and the doInsomnia gamerule remains the master phantom switch.

Weariness

Sleeplessness wears you down in two honest steps — slower healing, never monsters — and a night's rest gives back a short well-rested grace.

Go three in-game days (about one real hour) without rest and you become Weary: natural health regeneration heals 25% less. Push on to six and you become Exhausted: regeneration heals 50% less, and every couple of minutes your eyelids droop — the screen dims from top and bottom for about half a second, never full black and never in a fight. Only one stage is ever active, each an ordinary status-effect icon; no monsters are ever sent after the sleepless. Skipping rest is a choice the game respects, with a gentle, honest cost.

Any night's sleep — a catnap counts — resets your days-awake count and lifts both stages, as does dying or drinking a Caffeinated Brew. Only vanilla's food-driven healing is slowed: potions, beacons, instant health, and overnight Restful Saturation are untouched. The eyelid blink is cosmetic and client-side; it hides with F1 and switches off on its own toggle.

The ladder runs the other way too. Waking from a full night in bed — a real bed or a bedroll alike — leaves you Well-Rested: an ordinary beneficial status-effect icon that heals you 50% faster for two minutes, then fades. It reads as one coherent morning with Restful Saturation, not a double reward — the night heals you in bed, and the grace only speeds recovery if you still wake hurt. A pleasant echo of the night that never makes sleep a chore, and it switches off on its own toggle.

The Chronometer

A copper-and-redstone timepiece block whose signal tracks the sun, with a comparator that reads the moon and an alarm that rings the hour — and a pocket version that carries the same reading in a tooltip.

Crafted from copper ingots, redstone, and a clock, the Chronometer emits a redstone signal that climbs with the hour: strength 1 at dawn, 8 at dusk, 15 in the last stretch before sunrise — each level lasting 80 seconds. Doors that bolt at dusk, lanterns that light at nightfall, farms on a schedule: time-of-day automation without daylight-sensor guesswork. Right-click it for the exact time and current signal.

A comparator off the same block reads a different clock — moon fullness, 0 on the new moon to 15 on the full — so a build can arm for the dark nights when phantoms own the sky. Because the new moon reads 0, invert the comparator (a redstone torch) to trigger on the dark itself. And each block carries an alarm: sneak-right-click to cycle an alarm hour, and when it arrives the Chronometer rings a bell once. The direct wire keeps its hour meaning; only the comparator reads the moon.

Ring a clock with copper and the Chronometer goes in your pocket. The pocket chronometer is a carried timepiece — no placement, no redstone, no signal — whose tooltip reads the hour, and after dark the moon’s phase and how many nights remain until the new moon, alongside your own days awake. It is the portable, read-only half of the instrument: the placed block keeps the wire signal, the moon comparator, and the alarm as its own ground, while the pocket version travels with you on expedition, where the only other clock is the vanilla item that answers one question of the four.

In dimensions without a day-night cycle the Chronometer honestly emits nothing, and with doDaylightCycle off it freezes at the correct level and never chimes.

The Caffeinated Brew

A bitter campfire-steeped drink for deliberate all-nighters.

Steep two cocoa beans and leaves in a water bottle at a crafting table, then cook the bottle over a campfire for 30 seconds. Drinking it clears Weariness, resets your days-awake count, and grants 90 seconds of Haste I. It postpones rest but never replaces it — only a real night's sleep converts a supper into hearts. The brewing stand is never involved; this is one drink, not a potion system.

The Bedroll

A camp bed for the road — sleep anywhere without setting spawn.

Craft a bedroll from a row of string over a row of any wool. Right-click the ground to unroll it and turn in — the block is placed and you begin to sleep in one action — then it rolls back into your inventory when you wake. It obeys every vanilla bed rule (night or thunderstorm, no monster at your back, not obstructed, natural dimensions only) and never explodes in the Nether; it just refuses to let you rest where a bed can't.

A bedroll sleeps like a bed for that night — the time-lapse runs, and your days-awake count resets — but it never sets your spawn: morning comes to you where you lie, not a new home. Overnight Restful Saturation heals at half a real bed's rate, so a bed at home stays the better night's sleep and a new moon under a bedroll heals like the full moon in your own bed. enableBedroll = false removes the recipe; a bedroll already placed keeps working.

Part of Concord

Respite is one of eight independent overhauls in the Concord collection. Install any, combine all — each stands alone, and with none of the others installed nothing here is missing.

• Meridian — Chart your enchantments.
• Mercantile — Every villager remembers.
• Tribulation — Survive what comes next.
• Prosperity — Every chest, yours to discover.
• Distillation — Every drop counts.
• Cultivation — Worth growing.
• Instinct — Worth raising.