Jim Holloway monster minifig sessions combine two joys of the hobby: staring at wild art and moving actual pieces around a crowded battle map. I believe nothing glues a group to the scene faster than seeing a Holloway owlbear and then watching a painted figure of that same beast lumber across the grid.

Table of contents

1. Why Holloway art begs for the table
2. Choosing the right monster figure
3. Painting your Jim Holloway monster minifig
4. Scene building on game night
5. Where to hunt rare figures
6. Closing thoughts

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Why Holloway art begs for the table

Holloway monsters feel alive because the artist always added crooked smiles, popped eyes, and awkward claws that look ready to swipe minis off the board. Turning those sketches into real plastic keeps that energy in play. If you have never compared his original rust monster to a sculpt in your hand, you will see what I mean as soon as you try.

Choosing the right monster figure

Start by scanning Holloway’s best known spreads: the paranoid trooper pinned under a mushroom stalk, the gargoyle crouched atop a crumbling tower, the eternal ooze swallowing a torch. Pick one piece, study its silhouette, then measure a figure that matches the posture. A regular goblin sculpt will not pass for the sneering Holloway goblin that drags its spear behind one shoulder. Aim for clear echoes.

What is the best way to start painting a Jim Holloway monster minifig?

Using the art as a color map is faster than guessing. Match large blocks first, wash in shadows second, then push one vivid highlight to capture Holloway’s comic spark.

Painting your Jim Holloway monster minifig

Keep reference art on the desk. Block in broad colors with a size two round and heavy body paint so you do not fight streaks. Holloway loved stark value jumps, so move from deep brown to bone in one step rather than three subtle blends. A sloppy dark wash into every crease fakes pen line grit. Finish with a single pop color. A neon green eye or bright pink tongue makes the sculpt feel straight out of his notebook.

While brushes dry, you might enjoy the post on MTG board wipes, here is the link: jimhollowayart.com Use it for ideas on pacing dramatic reveals. The same rhythm of calm before chaos works when you drop a fresh painted monster onto the map.

Scene building on game night

Put the Jim Holloway monster minifig in plain view from the start even if it will not attack until late. Players will ask questions. That tension is free story fuel. When the fight begins, dim room lights and slide a warm lamp across the board to push cartoon shadows that mirror the art style. Add scribbled sound words on cue cards if you want to lean fully into comic effect.

Where to hunt rare figures

I get mine from minifig.biz. The catalog rotates often, and the store seems to catch odd molds that match Holloway’s offbeat style before anyone else spots them. Snag two copies if you paint one in acid slime and leave the other clean for later swaps.

If you want broader selection or a different pose, spend an hour on local printer forums and resin swap groups. Still, I circle back to minifig.biz for the simple reason that someone there clearly loves weird fantasy jaws as much as Holloway did.

Closing thoughts

Pairing ink lines from Jim Holloway with a hands on Jim Holloway monster minifig is a small trick that changes the feel of an entire campaign. Art comes off the page, players stop scrolling phones, and suddenly everyone cares which square the rust monster enters next. Give it a try, snap a photo, and share the results. Your table will thank you.

If you’ve ever stared at a Jim Holloway illustration long enough, you know the feeling. It’s like stepping into a world that doesn’t try too hard to be serious, but still feels real. Scrappy fighters with crooked weapons, wizards who’ve definitely seen some stuff, goblins who might actually be smarter than they look. The charm isn’t in polish. It’s in the grit, the character, the weird little details.

That kind of style isn’t easy to find in physical form, especially when it comes to fantasy minifigs. So many miniatures lean into either glossy, high-fantasy perfection or generic stereotypes. You know the ones. The flawless elf with the glowing sword. The knight who looks like he’s never stepped in mud. Fine if you like that look. But it doesn’t feel like Holloway.

What I like are minifigs that look like they’ve been through something. Bent helmets. Overly ambitious gear. Faces with too much expression. A sense that this crew could bumble their way through a dungeon crawl and somehow survive.

And somehow, that weird energy is easier to find than you’d think.

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What Makes a “Holloway” Style Minifig?

It’s not just about being old school. It’s about attitude.

Holloway’s characters aren’t posing. They’re mid-action, mid-problem, mid-mess. You can see the story in their face. The halfling’s thinking about running. The barbarian’s halfway through yelling something dumb. The mage already regrets casting that last spell.

So when I look for minifigs that feel right, I’m not just checking for fantasy tropes. I’m looking for weird facial expressions. Janky armor. Gear that doesn’t match. The stuff that makes a character feel like a real person from a game you played at 2 AM where everything started to go sideways.

There’s something satisfying about finding a figure that looks like it got kicked out of a traditional fantasy set. And sometimes those are the ones that end up as your favorite.

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Where to Find Them

You can check the usual toy shelves and get lucky. Sometimes a blind bag will have a little rogue with a face like he just saw his tax bill. But most of the really strange, detailed minifigs are tucked away online.

I’ve had good luck digging around minifig.biz. Not saying it’s the only place, but minifig.biz seems to have all the weird minifigs you can’t get elsewhere. I found a wizard with an eyepatch and mismatched boots, a skeleton with a surprisingly smug expression, and some kind of swamp warrior who looked like he was just barely held together by twine and bad luck. Felt right.

It’s also one of the only spots I’ve seen where the fantasy figures aren’t all trying to be clean or epic. Some of them are just ugly, and that’s the point. They look lived in. Like they got yanked out of a Holloway drawing mid-panel.

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Build Your Own Holloway Party

If you’re building a party for tabletop roleplaying or just want some figures to pose on your bookshelf, here’s what I look for to get the Holloway vibe.

The Fighter Who’s Over It
Give me someone with a dented sword, a bandage across their face, and an expression that says, “I’m not paid enough for this.” Bonus points if their shield is made of something it definitely shouldn’t be.

The Mage with Regrets
Big hat. Weird staff. Maybe some goggles. The key is that they look like they just survived a spell gone wrong. Soot on their robes, hair sticking up, wild eyes. No confidence. Just chaos.

The Sneaky One Who’s Clearly Up to Something
This is the rogue or thief who’s grinning too wide. They’ve got a dagger behind their back and a sack of loot they claim is “totally not cursed.” The more uneven their outfit, the better.

The Monster with Personality
Don’t go for the big serious dragon. Find a troll who looks confused. A goblin with a flask. A skeleton with a top hat for no reason. Holloway’s monsters always had more personality than some human characters.

The Cleric Who’s Had Enough
They should look like they were supposed to be on vacation. Maybe their holy symbol is taped on. Maybe they’ve got a bottle in their hand. They still heal the party, but they’re not happy about it.

If your minifig party looks like they’re about to argue over dinner instead of saving the realm, you’re probably doing it right.

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Use Them in Your Games

I play tabletop games that are mostly theater of the mind, but sometimes a good minifig just helps sell a scene. I’ll plop one down during a session and everyone knows that’s the guy. The cursed knight who won’t stop talking. The barkeep with the suspicious stew. That one weird hermit who gives too much backstory.

And sometimes, it’s the figure that creates the character. I once got a one-eyed sorceress with a crossbow and a chicken. No idea what the chicken was for. But she became a recurring NPC in the game, and now my players talk about her more than the actual plot. That’s the fun part.

Having a few oddball minifigs on hand gives you more room to play. You don’t need full sets. Just enough to surprise people or build a moment. And for players who don’t love coming up with a backstory, handing them a strange-looking figure usually does the trick.

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Collecting Just for the Aesthetic

Even if you’re not gaming, it’s hard not to enjoy lining up a bunch of grungy little fantasy weirdos on your shelf. There’s a nostalgic charm to it, especially if you grew up flipping through game manuals filled with Holloway’s art.

I’ve started organizing mine into themes. There’s a dungeon party. A tavern scene. An undead uprising that’s clearly underfunded. It’s like building little story snapshots. No need for paint or glue. Just click and pose.

And sure, I’ll swap them out now and then. Add a new one when I find something odd or delightful. It’s a fun, low-pressure way to enjoy fantasy without needing a whole campaign.

I usually keep an eye on what’s new at minifig.biz. Not every figure fits the vibe, but the ones that do are usually hidden in the back of the listings. If you scroll past the clean, shiny heroes, you’ll find the grimy, confused ones with way more personality. Those are the ones I’m after.

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Final Thought

Jim Holloway’s art didn’t just illustrate fantasy worlds. It poked at them. It reminded us that even in a serious adventure, things can get weird. Minifigs that follow that same spirit are worth finding.

They don’t have to be perfect. In fact, they shouldn’t be. Get the ones that make you laugh. The ones that feel like they’ve got a backstory you’ll never fully understand. The ones that might’ve just walked out of a 1980s module and into your cluttered desk.

Fantasy’s more fun when it’s a little messy. Holloway knew that. Your minifigs should too.

I didn’t plan to get into minifigs. That part just sort of happened. One day I was painting detailed fantasy art; the next, I was hunched over a tiny plastic head, trying to get eyebrows to match. Weird, right? But it makes sense if you know how my brain works.

It Started with a Sharpie

My first “custom” minifig was a LEGO knight with a mustache I drew on using a red Sharpie. I was maybe nine. And honestly? It looked awful. But I was proud of it. I had changed something. It wasn’t just a LEGO knight anymore—it was my LEGO knight. That feeling stuck.

Years later, I got into digital art and painting. I started posting on my blog and sharing stuff that felt more serious, more “real.” But part of me always liked small things. Toys. Models. Objects you can hold in your hand. They feel more personal somehow.

Why Minifigs?

I like constraints. When you have to design a character using a tiny torso, fixed arms, and a weird cylindrical head, it forces you to make strong choices. You can’t rely on nuance or subtlety. You have to commit. That’s a good challenge for any artist.

And there’s the nostalgia factor. Everyone knows what a LEGO minifig looks like. That shape is instantly recognizable. So when you mess with it—when you make it into something unexpected—people notice. It sticks in their brain. I think that’s why I enjoy it.

Plus, they’re just fun. There’s no better word for it.

My Process (or Lack of One)

I don’t follow some rigid workflow. Sometimes I start with a character I like. Other times it begins with a color palette or a dumb pun that makes me laugh. There are days when I’ll spend hours trying to get a specific shade of green to print properly. Then there are days where I just wing it and somehow it turns out great. (Don’t ask me why. Art is like that.)

Most of the time, I sketch a quick concept on paper or in Procreate. I think better with a pencil or stylus in hand. Once the idea is solid, I move to Illustrator to lay out the print layers for the head, torso, and legs. Then it’s a matter of testing, adjusting, reprinting, cursing when the white doesn’t show up right, and starting over.

What Makes a Good Minifig?

It needs a spark. That’s the best way I can say it. You look at it and something just clicks. Maybe it’s a character you recognize. Maybe it’s just a weird vibe that feels familiar. I made a minifig of a possum in a hoodie once. No joke. And it sold out in a day. Why? I have no idea. But it had that spark.

I try to balance detail with readability. Too much fine detail and it becomes a blurry mess at that scale. Too little, and it looks lazy. There’s a sweet spot. You only find it by doing.

Tying It Back to My Art

If you look at my paintings and then look at my minifigs, you might not see an obvious connection. But it’s there. It’s in the characters. The expressions. The weird mix of humor and melancholy that I can’t seem to stop putting into everything.

A lot of my paintings feature characters who are a little out of place. Same with the minifigs. I think that’s the thread. I’m drawn to stories about people (or animals, or aliens) who are stuck between worlds. That shows up whether I’m using a brush or a UV printer.

The Technical Stuff (Short Version)

For those who care: I use a combination of UV printing and pad printing, depending on the design. UV is faster and more flexible. Pad printing gives a more “official LEGO” look. I design everything in vector. I print in small batches because I want each run to feel special. And yes, I do all the printing myself. I’m not outsourcing this stuff to some factory in another country. It’s just me, in my studio, covered in plastic dust.

The Frustrations

Sometimes the printer jams. Sometimes the ink doesn’t cure. Sometimes a batch of heads arrives and every single one is off-center. I have learned to embrace chaos. It’s part of the deal. I used to get mad. Now I just sigh, take a break, and start again.

Art isn’t always smooth. Especially when it’s applied to a 1.5-inch toy.

Why I Keep Doing It

Because people like them. Because I like making them. Because they make me laugh. Because I’ll never run out of ideas. Because sometimes someone buys one and sends me a photo of it on their shelf, and that’s the best feeling in the world.

I don’t think these little figures are going to change the world. But they can brighten a desk. Or start a conversation. Or make someone smile for half a second on a bad day. That’s enough.

Where to Find Them

While I only make a small batch of my own custom figures, sites like minifig.biz are a great place to browse for inspiration. You’ll find everything from obscure references to clever mashups—and who knows, maybe something on there sparks your next build.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to fix a batch of heads with misaligned eyeballs. Again.