Dangers of the Road

The random encounter has been a Thing in RPGs since at least the early days of D&D. Sometimes this makes more sense than others. Having your night's kip deep in the bowels of an abandoned cathedral crypt disturbed by prowling ghouls makes a fair amount of sense. Running into a manticore as you take the rough cart track from a farming village to the market town, not so much.

Like most parts of gaming, this is fine in moderation and in the hands of a judicious GM who thinks about the context. But that's not a very exciting statement, so let's have a further look at random encounters.

Random encounters do a few things. They can add a sense of unpredictability (sometimes too much) to an adventure, whether it's stopping a prewritten scenario from feeling bland, or throwing another element into the mix of a GM's improvisation. Narratively, they make the world feel more perilous, especially when the resulting encounters aren't necessarily tailored to the PCs' capabilities - as with the classic Random Encounter Tables. You know... "1d3 filthy hobbits with a stick", "a tired orc", "1d6 tyrannosaur assassins". This mechanically encourages players to arrange watches, find safe-ish places to set up camp, and so on.

The problem you can end up with is that the world feels too dangerous, narratively speaking. This is more an issue for the folks who like reasonably consistent models (are we still saying "simulationist"?), because in a narrative-first system, the danger presented by monster A to person B is generally much looser.

To put it bluntly: if you might be devoured by owlbears any time you try to sell eggs, how does any form of civilisation exist? Movement of goods and people are crucial to the kinds of societies we generally see in RPGs. Cities absolutely require materials and food gathered from the surrounding countryside, and the goods they produce are sold to that same countryside. Sure, your classic merchant caravan can hire 4-6 low-level adventurers to fend off bandits. How does that work on the smaller scale, though? Randolph the Egg, humble chicken-rearer, can't afford to employ bodyguards.

This is partly because of the way statistics tend to work in games. It's generally something like: 0-50% nothing, 51-70% elderly wolf, 71-80% 1d4+1 orc scouts, 81-90% wolf-mounted orcs, 91-99% orc wizard and bodyguards, 100% frenzied wyvern. Randolph has to go to market once a week, every week of his life. Over the course of these hundreds of trips, he'll encounter even the most improbable result on the encounter table. Meanwhile, dangerous monsters are more likely to show up in remote rural areas, exactly where the people are generally poor and infrastructure is minimal (that's what makes them rural, after all).

Randolph has little chance of a long-term career in a world where random encounters affect NPCs as well as PCs. Even PCs will get fed up of needing a balanced party and full combat gear to take the dog for a walk. This is to say nothing of dating. And if the wilderness is full of these dangers, there are easily enough bandits and monsters to wipe out the little villages, homesteads and shrines that RPGs love to scatter around.

Of course, the answer to this is that random encounters don't affect NPCs the way they do adventurers, or indeed at all. That's how the world keeps ticking along smoothly. Everyone knows the woods are full of terrible dangers, but Randolph still sells his eggs every week, little Masie picks flowers in the borders of the forest, and hunting rabbits does not require a 10-strong party of crossbow-wielding poachers clad in full plate.

Why, though? It'd be satisfying to have some in-world explanation for this phenomenon.

There are a couple of options I can think of.

Protagonists are Special

There's something about PCs that attracts dangers. This works well in a mythic or fate-ridden setting, where monsters and challengers are drawn to confront heroes, perhaps sent by the gods themselves to test the PCs' mettle or as part of some Olympian political strife. It can also work in an honour-bound setting where most opponents are people, rather than beasts - especially if the typical peasant has nothing worth stealing. Of course the bandits only ambush victims who look like they can afford it, and are too proud to raise a hand against simple peasants. Of course the wandering fairy knight issues a lethal challenge to the heroes, while merely glowering at farmers who've never touched a blade.

In magic-heavy settings, random encounters might be attracted by the PCs' power. This can be as metaphysical as being "drawn to those with power", or as tangible as "can smell the potions on you". Since PCs tend to carry magical bling and travellers not so much, this can explain away the discrepancy. Where the setting features enigmatic Dark Forces, it's in-genre for those to direct trouble at the PCs specifically, without worrying too much about exactly how they do it.

In sci-fi, there's a lot of variety as to what exactly the random encounters might be. If they're space pirates or robot bandits, they can again be attracted by the PCs' gear (using various "scanners" to pick out worthwhile targets). Intelligent aliens or imperial oppressors alike may know the PCs are their enemies, and actively hunt them while ignoring the civilians.

Protagonists are Outsiders

An alternative is that normal people have some protection which the PCs are exempt from. For a non-fantasy example, consider an occupying force facing popular guerilla warfare. The PCs are in danger when they leave their bases, especially to head out into remote areas. Civilians aren't necessarily sympathisers with the freedom fighters, but they're much less likely to be attacked (with obvious caveats for any real-world conflict).

In fantastical settings, people living in an area long-term may be spiritually 'part of' the land in a way that the PCs aren't. Growing up on the local water, air, and produce might align their auras with the local ley lines, making them less visible to monsters. They might be watched over by spirits who know them from birth, especially if the culture treats with those spirits or performs rituals to them. Regular participation in village rituals might build up layers of divine or magical protection over the years. Adventurers have none of those, making them stick out like sore thumbs. New things are interesting! New things are dangerous.

Monsters might simply ignore familiar and harmless locals. Semi-intelligent creatures might do so from an instinct to avoid disturbing the local ecosystem, ensuring a long-term habitable territory (and, in the case of man-eaters, sufficient food). Fully-sentient beings might have a tacit agreement that they won't harm well-behaved villagers, and in return, the villagers won't mob up and hunt them with flaming torches, nor call in the Royal Wizard-Knights. Monsters that are dangerous but don't actually hunt humans may learn the peasants are no threat to their territory. Those irritatingly shiny adventurers with unfamiliar smells, on the other hand...