This year has been the year of the steamrolling new Superstars. It began with Brodus Clay, who debuted his new Funkasaurus gimmick to usher in the new year.
He steamrolled through the under- and midcards without a hitch, then ground up against the Big Show, but didn't lose any actual matches.
Then came Damien Sandow, destroying the undercard with signature aplomb, even to the point of beating on Clay, though not actually winning clean matches over him.
Ryback appeared, and with the lower two thirds of the WWE roster already well destroyed, was fed local enhancement talent, something we hadn't seen in a while. (I think the last time I remember someone trashing local guys was the debut of Vance Archer.)
Then they fed him more. And more.
They fed him a double jobber with cheese. On it went. (He's a hungry guy!)
Finally he worked his way up to the undercard, culminating with Reks and Hawkins.
His first real feud came recently with Jinder Mahal, which led to Mahal getting to squash a pair of his own jobbers.
Even Reks and Hawkins got in on the act, squashing their own local duo the day that Reks asked for his release.
So how does this jobber Renaissance help the company?
It helps because it provides an excellent smoke screen to introduce a new, unknown Superstar and get them over in a huge way.
Would this storyline/gimmick work for you?
Imagine you had your hands on the next Daniel Bryan, Rey Mysterio, or even Tyson Kidd.
You've been holding him back in development, working on his in-ring and mic skills, prepping him to be everything he can be as soon as he arrives, without the slow build other wrestlers have.
So what do you do? Drop him in a ring and have him run over a series of local jobbers, to establish his dominance?
You send him out there as the local jobber.
Jinder Mahal heads to the ring to destroy another pair of jobbers to help his ego in his competition with Ryback.
In the far corner are a pair of unassuming looking guys—two unfortunate souls fed into the meat grinder. They are men valuable only for their disposable, interchangeable identities.
The match begins, and Mahal predictably destroys the first of the two.
The other guy waits in the corner, quietly.
He's not afraid; he never flinches, never looks away. Doesn't say or do anything. Doesn't boast or posture.
Then, with the other guy destroyed, either disposed of or tagging out, he steps forward.
And he wins.
This little, unassuming guy pulls some kind of magic and "lucks" his way into a win.
The crowd is stunned; they didn't even give the guy a second look until he was already having his hand raised in victory.
Mahal, of course, is furious.
The next week, he demands a rematch. He'll pay from his own pocket to fly the kid in and fight him man-to-man. He only lost on a fluke, and he'll destroy this new guy now that he's giving him his full attention.
And he loses.
The new, faceless guy wins again.
Ryback taunts Mahal for his failure, and Mahal dares him to fight him the following week.
The guy comes out the next week, no Titantron.
Ryback comes down, ready to run over him.
The little guy fights like a veteran, using all the tricks in the book to outsmart and outmaneuver Ryback, using his size and strength against him.
Maybe Ryback finally catches him.
Maybe Ryback sets him up for his finisher.
Maybe Mahal distracts him.
The young kid slips down the back for a school boy, and hands Ryback his first loss.
The next week, the kid has a contract, a Titantron, and a rematch, and everyone knows who he is and what he's capable of.
He can even lose the rematch, reestablishing Ryback's dominant run and ending the short program with a show of mutual respect and acceptance as Ryback raises the mostly broken young guy's hand.
That done, he then enters a program with Mahal (since Ryback's done with him), joins a tag team, and/or begins chasing the U.S. Title.