The notification was a soft chime, barely audible over the rain drumming against the window of Ethan’s apartment. He didn't need to look at his phone to know what it was.

He squinted at the phone. That wasn't his equipment.

Ethan dropped the phone. It clattered to the floor. He backed away from his bedroom door, his breath coming in short gasps.

| Rule | Reason | |------|--------| | No nudity in common areas (unless NSFW site) | Platform TOS / viewer expectations | | Cameras may be covered temporarily for private needs | Changing clothes, emotional breakdown | | Drama is not scripted but can be profitable | Viewers engage with authentic conflict | | Cleaning schedule is strict | Trash/untidiness turns viewers away | | Chat moderation 24/7 | Prevent doxxing, hate speech, spam |

Would you like a sample template, or a checklist of specific camera models and software for a 24/7 setup?

“Look at the porch, Ethan,” Sarah said from the phone. Her voice had lost the desperation. It was cold, professional.

If a 24/7 house is too extreme:

Ethan watched the driver walk away. He swiped to the living room feed. The room was dark, messy, normal. No cameras. No crew. No man in the hoodie.