An example of why I would hate this concept:
I'm wandering around the wilderness north of Seyda Neen, and happen upon a cave entrance. It's not a mine or Sixth House Base, so know there's bandits inside. Bandits mean opportunities for loot, such as armor, weapons, scrolls, Soul Gems, potions, and gold, and all for probably less effort than it would take to survive going into any number of tombs, Sixth House Bases, or ruins. So I stroll in, carefully and quietly pick off the bandits inside one-by-one, and begin looting the place.
Now, at this point, I'm low level, else I'd be tackling Mamaea or perhaps the Dwemer ruins inside the Ghostfence. I most likely need gold, and don't feel like using the same old tricks to get it (or, better yet, don't know any tricks to begin with), but let's say gold is heavy (due to a mod), and/or I like to role-play. Or I actually don't want to any of the gold, just the equipment, since I know that the stuff I'm going to sell will net me more than enough funds for further adventuring. Or the amount of gold in each container is so minimal that I'm insulted to even touch it.
Whatever my reason, I have the ability to take as little or as much gold from containers as I like, and I also have the responsibility of paying attention enough to how much gold I need/want/see in said container(s)/can carry at one time/etc. If the game transfers
anything from a container to my inventory by my mere opening of it, the game designers are essentially telling me that I would've taken it anyway, that I can stand to carry it, that I have any need for it, that I meant to click on that container in the first place (mistakes happen), etc. etc.
The point is, as simple and as small as something like this may seem, that's all it takes to drastically change the gameplay for people. And in games of such supposed freedom, features like auto-taking
ANYTHING, or items you aren't allowed to remove from your inventory because if you do you might lose them and thus won't be able to complete a quest that you might not even care about any more, or NPCs that can't be killed for much the same reason, are telling me how to play the game, telling me that I'm not allowed to screw up and have to start over with a previous save, that I'm not allowed to fail.
Such concepts reek of overbearing simplification, of reducing freedom of choice, all in the name of appealing to people that really have no business playing games more advanced than Super Mario Bros. Hell, even that game doesn't make you grab the Invincibility Star when it pops up, the designers expect that to be a basic instinct (or a display of finely-honed skill, depending upon the situation).
As someone already said it sounds like this is intended to happen when you check a corpse. Also, dozens of RPGs automatically give you money when you defeat foes and that did not make them feel "arcade." In this case, it doesn't even go that far.
It's okay if some RPGs do that, I don't,
we shouldn't expect them to all be the same, to have all the same degree of choices, to have all the same features, to all be as unforgiving and challenging.
But that's also what sets games like Morrowind apart from the others. The more that
any series so blindly and enthusiastically absorbs the traits of others, the more it becomes like every other title, regardless of still adhering to its inherent genre, regardless of how beneficial those features may seem to the designers, to the consumers, the more and more that series begins to lose it's original identity. It's especially sad to see it happen to one of the greats, to one of the franchises I've come to respect as innovative, as a shining example to the others, and even worse than that when the features/aspects the series is absorbing is making it more and more appealing to people that don't get it, that don't understand what really makes the series great.
They just want to ride dragons, wear skyscraqer pauldrons, and be able to beat the game over a weekend and move on to the next big game everyone's playing. I don't like sharing my backyard with them. Can you really blame me?