As far as modern programming has been able to discern, there is no such thing as a 'true' random-value-generator. Every single one depends upon either an input by a user, a secret process, or both.
Let's imagine, for purposes of metaphor, that you're a programmer, and you've created a chess-playing AI.
Now when other people play against your AI, they treat it like another player: they move, it appears to respond intelligently, and if they're like me, it invariably beats them every time.
However when you, the programmer, sit down to play against your AI, an interesting thing occurs. You, in all your master-brain-glory, understand fully how your program functions. Where its moves appear seemingly random to others, to you they are perfectly predictable--as you understand the processes behind generating them. You know, with 100% certainty, that your program will respond with Y output, given X stimulus.
Because of this, you are not playing a multiplayer game so much as a complex single-player simulation.
Therefore we can conclude that randomness--or seeming randomness--is contingent upon the user's ignorance of its workings.
Given this, it seems entirely possible to design a game framework based on the following logic:
A) "Player" has pre-existing knowledge of "The Process"--how the "System" he is playing within will respond to his moves, given its laws.
B) The game begins. "Player" provides input.
C) The "System" interprets the "Player"'s input.
D) The "System" uses the "Player"'s input to generate a response, based on the manipulation of the given input's values by the rules of "The Process"
E) The "System" offers its response an output.
F) The "Player" responds--providing additional input. Return to B) and repeat.
Let's offer a comparison.
A) I sit Mr. Jones down. "Mr. Jones," I say, "every number you give will be added to the previous value and squared."
B) Mr. Jones says "Six."
C) I take Mr. Jones's Six and determine its relation to the prior value (in this case, 0).
D) I enact the process of adding and squaring; the pre-existing [0] plus Mr. Jones's [6], squared, results with [36].
E) I tell him as much.
F) Mr. Jones says "Four."
C) I take Mr. Jones's Four and add it to the existing 36.
D) I square the resulting [40] to get [1600]
etc etc
In this case, Mr. Jones has acted as a seed, providing input to a system which then uses it to generate values. Because he understands this, it is not random. If he didn't know the process before hand, it would appear random.
But here's the pivotal point: if he understood the process, but did not possess the faculties to anticipate it beyond a certain point, quasi-randomness is achieved.
Say "The Process" is to take the input, divide it in half, add it to the prior value, triple the result, and multiply that by ninety-three. Mr. Jones might puzzle out the result given a minute to think, but it's not something he could carry very far, or through very many iterations. He is only human.
Back to chess, we see a similar example. You may be able to guess at your opponent's next move, and even to think two or three moves into the future. But you do not possess the computational faculties to carry it, say, twenty moves ahead, as a chess-playing algorithm with a sufficient processor does.
In this way, it would be possible to generate a game system which relies upon input from the player, fed through a pre-determined and publicly-known process to create a result. The fact that the process is known allows it to be predicted by a strategic mind. However, the process's complexity precludes any human from doing this very far.
The only foreseeable problem is that this still leaves us with the Peg Solitaire dilemma--once you've beaten it, all you have to do is retrace your steps. Given that, some initial SOMETHING is needed to differentiate each game. The closest I can come to a real answer would be to procedurally generate the environment of a game--say, the shape of the Go board--based on its layout at the end of the last game. This is sort of a half-assed cop-out to the actual technical challenge you presented, but I think it could be conceded for practical purposes.
All in all though, this is one of the more interesting articles I've ever read on game-design theory, let alone on The Escapist. Finding the right way to respond (and then express that response in a way that makes sense) had been itching in the back of my mind for the past couple days now