If I decide to use a table to determine a world effect, in accordance with guidelines as to when said table should be used, I decided to use the table. But the table made the decision that affects play and the setting.
The table is inert. It is humans who read the dice, refer to the table, and then
make decisions about what they are authoring.
As I already posted, Gygax is quite sensitive to this issue in the introduction to his DMG. The following is from p 9, and also from p 110 (the stuff about alternative possibilities for zero hp) which is not in the introduction, but has some things to say that I think help make sense of what the introductory text is getting at:
For example, the rules call for wandering monsters, but these can be not only irritating - if not deadly - but the appearance of such can actually spoil a game by interfering with an orderly expedition You have set up an area full of clever tricks and traps, populated it with well-thought-out creature complexes, given clues about it to pique players' interest, and the group has worked hard to supply themselves with everything by way of information and equipment they will need to face and overcome the imagined perils. They are gathered together and eager to spend an enjoyable evening playing their favorite game, with the expectation of going to a new, strange area and doing their best to triumph. They are willing to accept the hazards of the dice, be it loss of items, wounding, insanity, disease, death, as long as the process is exciting. But lo!, everytime you throw the ”monster die” a wandering nasty is indicated, and the party’s strength is spent trying to fight their way into the area. Spells expended, battered and wounded, the characters trek back to their base. Expectations have been dashed, and probably interest too, by random chance. Rather than spoil such an otherwise enjoyable time, omit the wandering monsters indicated by the die. No, don’t allow the party to kill them easily or escape unnaturally, for that goes contrary to the major precepts of the game. Wandering monsters, however, are included for two reasons, as is explained in the section about them. If a party deserves to have these beasties inflicted upon them, that is another matter, but in the example above it is assumed that they are doing everything possible to travel quickly and quietly to their planned destination. If your work as a DM has been sufficient, the players will have all they can handle upon arrival, so let them get there, give them a chance. The game is the thing, and certain rules can be distorted or disregarded altogether in favor of play.
Know the game systems, and you will know how and when to take upon yourself the ultimate power. . . .
Now and then a player will die through no fault of his own. He or she will have done everything correctly, taken every reasonable precaution, but still the freakish roll of the dice will kill the character. In the long run you should let such things pass as the players will kill more than one opponent with their own freakish rolls at some later time. Yet you do have the right to arbitrate the situation. You can rule that the player, instead of dying, is knocked unconscious, loses a limb, is blinded in one eye or invoke any reasonably severe penalty that still takes into account what the monster has done. It is very demoralizing to the players to lose a cared-for-player character when they have played well. When they have done something stupid or have not taken precautions, then let the dice fall where they may!
The wandering monster system serves - and integrates - two functions: it is a
cost to the players, which they incur by spending time adventuring in the dungeon; and it is a system of content introduction - it makes the dungeon "come alive". (That is my own thinking. To the best of my knowledge, Gygax never actually provides the information and explanation about their function that he promises in this passage.)
What Gygax is picking up on, in the introductory text, is that sometimes the system doesn't work properly: players may have their PCs spend time in the dungeon simply
getting to the place they want to raid/investigate; they thus trigger the content introduction mechanism (because time is passing in the fiction, and so the dice must be rolled to see what is happening in the dungeon) even though they don't deserve to pay any cost, because they are not yet actually adventuring.
Gygax's solution - fudging the wandering monster die roll (
not any resulting combat - he is very clear about that, for what I think are very clear reasons) - is not especially elegant. Torchbearer 2e uses a different solution: there is no wandering monster die, but rather wandering monsters are handled as "twist encounters", imposed by the GM when a player fails a roll. And when the party is travelling through a known part of the dungeon using their map, the TB2e rules say that no roll is required, and hence there is no chance of a wandering monster. This is more elegant, but does involve a deprecation of the role of wandering monsters in making the dungeon "come alive". Dungeon World takes a different approach again, although overall it is closer to TB2e than to Gygax. And there are probably yet other approaches in use, I'm sure.
But anyway - the point I'm making here is that we can see Gygax being
very conscious of the GM's responsibility for making decisions about the introduction of content into the shared fiction. For well-known reasons - uncertainty, neutrality, etc - he incorporates a random table element into the decision-making. But he never tries to pretend that
it is the fault of the dice. He keeps the responsibility of the GM front and centre.
Given the conceptual and historical debt that the more contemporary sandbox tradition owes to Gygax (as well as Arneson, of course), I am surprised that this bit of his legacy, for understanding what GMing involves, seems to be neglected or even repudiated.