There is a strange mixture of triumph and frustration that comes with painting miniatures. Anyone who has sat down with a small model in one hand and a fine brush in the other knows this dance well. On some days, it feels like capturing lightning in a bottle. On others, it feels like chasing shadows across plastic or resin, hoping that the colors finally settle in a way that makes sense. My recent work on Elsa Bloodstone from the Marvel United: Multiverse game became one of those sessions that tested both patience and pride, a reminder that hobby journeys are rarely smooth and often lined with unexpected detours.
Elsa Bloodstone is already a striking character on the tabletop. She isn’t just another hero figure to paint—she carries a presence that demands energy, contrast, and bold strokes. In the world of comic characters and fantasy miniatures, she stands apart with her rugged look, her long flowing hair, and the constant aura of monster-hunting grit. Translating all of that into paint meant balancing a dozen tiny details, choosing colors that complemented her fierce stance, and most of all, daring to take risks. That’s where the joy came in, but also where the stumbling blocks started appearing.
I’d love to say that this miniature came together effortlessly, but the truth is that it was fueled in part by frustration from another project gone wrong. Before picking up Elsa, I had been painting a monstrous figure, the Dhole, a wormlike terror from another game. I had chosen to experiment with new washes, particularly one that promised rich, dark shadows with a cool blue undertone. The result, however, was a nightmare. The wash dried with such an intense glossy finish that the creature looked as though it had been dipped in varnish. Instead of a sinister, shaded worm, I had a figure that gleamed like polished plastic. No amount of touch-up could salvage it to my satisfaction, and I made the difficult decision to set it aside unfinished.
That stung. Abandoning a miniature halfway through is a rare occurrence for me, and it always feels like leaving something behind. So, when I picked up Elsa Bloodstone again, it wasn’t just another paint session—it was a way to channel that disappointment into something better. I wanted to go all out, to create something that didn’t just meet my usual standards but pushed them further. If the Dhole had been my defeat, Elsa would be my redemption.
The figure itself presents challenges that any painter would recognize immediately. She isn’t standing on an empty base, but rather posed above the body of a fallen dragon, its scales curling around beneath her boots. Right away, this means two figures in one. The dragon required a different palette, a different finish, and careful brush control to avoid muddling its texture with Elsa’s clothing and hair. I chose to lean into some of the newer paints I had picked up, including a shimmering green pearl that worked wonders for the scaly effect. Was it necessary? Absolutely not. Was it fun? Without question. Sometimes, the hobby is as much about enjoying an excuse to use new materials as it is about mastering old ones.
Elsa’s own palette was no less ambitious. Her long hair meant shadow after shadow, layers of depth that could easily get lost if rushed. I’ve always carried what I half-jokingly call a “curse” when it comes to painting hair—my hand seems unwilling to settle for flat color, always demanding deep shadows and stark highlights. On this miniature, that curse came alive with every brushstroke. Getting her locks to look natural while still maintaining volume required patience and restraint, two things not always easy to balance when painting late into the night.
Her coat presented another focal point. I had seen a brilliant hard-highlight technique used before on another figure—a glossy red jacket that looked like it was straight from a comic panel. That image stuck with me, and I wanted to recreate something similar for Elsa’s iconic outfit. While I didn’t perfectly capture the sharpness of that earlier inspiration, I was proud of what came out. The coat shone with layered highlights, suggesting movement and weight, while still fitting into the darker palette of her monster-hunting theme.
One of the most interesting aspects of painting Elsa was the contrast between textures. You had the rough scales of the dragon beneath her, the flowing hair around her shoulders, the heavy folds of the coat, and the clean, sharp details of her weapons. Each demanded a different approach. Dry brushing worked wonders on the dragon’s body, catching the raised edges of the scales without overwhelming the recessed shadows. Layering was key for the coat, building smooth transitions that carried the eye across its folds. For the weapons, clean edge highlights brought out the metallic finish without overpowering the rest of the miniature.
As I painted, I couldn’t help but think about the strange balance of satisfaction and struggle that comes with this hobby. The paints themselves sometimes feel like allies, other times like obstacles. For instance, I experimented with an intensely dark black paint known for its matte finish. It covered surfaces beautifully, but the slightest mistake meant a smudge that needed correction. Meanwhile, bright oranges and warm tones, which I once disliked for their uneven coverage, became surprising allies on this miniature. I had to remind myself constantly that progress as a painter doesn’t just come from mastering techniques—it also comes from letting go of old biases and rediscovering colors in new contexts.
Of course, none of this would matter if the end result didn’t carry the spirit of the character. Elsa Bloodstone is a monster hunter, and she needed to look like one. That meant a figure that radiated toughness, boldness, and a touch of cinematic flair. Standing above the dragon’s corpse, hair whipping behind her, she had to feel like she belonged in the middle of an epic battle scene. Every highlight, every shade, every choice of paint had to point toward that goal. When I finally stepped back and looked at her completed form, I felt that satisfaction settle in. She wasn’t perfect—no miniature ever is—but she carried that aura. She looked fierce, untouchable, alive.
There’s another side to this story, though. The glossy disaster of the Dhole taught me something important about expectations and limits. It’s easy to forget that not every paint will behave the way you want, not every miniature will turn out the way you imagined, and sometimes the best move is to set a project aside rather than grind yourself into frustration. Walking away from that worm creature wasn’t a failure. It was part of the learning curve. And channeling that frustration into Elsa’s miniature gave me a piece I could genuinely be proud of.
Miniatures can be admired for their artistry, but their real magic emerges once they hit the table in a game. Marvel United: Multiverse is, at its heart, a cooperative adventure where heroes battle villains across a modular, comic-inspired board. Each character brings a unique set of abilities, quirks, and personality to the game, and Elsa Bloodstone is no exception. While she isn’t as well-known outside of die-hard comic circles, her design in this game makes her immediately recognizable and striking.
What makes Elsa particularly interesting from a gaming perspective is her dual identity as both a brawler and a specialist. Many Marvel United heroes lean heavily into one archetype—either they’re versatile and adaptive, or they’re laser-focused on damage, or they serve a more supportive role. Elsa straddles those lines. In the stories she hails from, she is defined by her lineage, her monster-hunting expertise, and her no-nonsense approach to supernatural threats. Translating that into mechanics means she can deal damage efficiently while also applying pressure in ways that feel unique to her.
When you put her miniature on the board, she immediately stands out. Not just visually, with the bright coat and massive hair, but thematically. Elsa feels like the kind of hero who thrives in scenarios where villains summon extra threats or fill the board with minions. While other characters might be bogged down by swarms, she is designed to cut through them with precision. Her deck plays into that theme by emphasizing steady damage and control. She is not the kind of hero who needs to rely on flashy combos or overly elaborate teamwork. Instead, she brings directness, consistency, and a ruthless efficiency that echoes her comic book persona.
This makes her particularly valuable in gaming sessions where unpredictability reigns. Anyone who has played Marvel United knows that the villain’s deck can throw curveballs. Some rounds are straightforward, others are chaotic, with minions flooding the board and threat cards stacking up faster than you can deal with them. In those moments, having a hero like Elsa is grounding. She doesn’t need elaborate setups or lucky draws to contribute—she simply goes to work, eliminating obstacles and stabilizing the team’s position.
Yet what keeps her from being one-note is the way her cards push players to think carefully about placement. Elsa is often strongest when she’s in the thick of things, but putting her directly into danger requires balancing her offensive potential with the team’s overall safety. A common mistake is treating her like an indestructible tank. She isn’t invulnerable, and her effectiveness comes from calculated aggression rather than reckless charges. The thrill of playing her comes from walking that line—always one step away from overextending, always testing the limits of her resilience while striking with precision.
Thematically, this is perfect. Elsa has always been a character who thrives in hostile environments, hunting creatures that other heroes would hesitate to face. The miniature itself reinforces that, as she literally stands above the corpse of a slain dragon, radiating confidence and defiance. On the table, her gameplay mirrors that stance. She is at her best when confronting chaos directly, standing tall while others maneuver around her.
Painting her miniature deepens that immersion in an unexpected way. It’s one thing to plop an unpainted gray figure onto the board—it does the job, but it feels abstract. When Elsa is painted, however, she becomes more than just a game piece. Every highlight in her coat, every detail in her hair, every stroke of color across the dragon’s scales tells a story. When you pick her up and move her from one location to another, you’re not just advancing a pawn—you’re guiding a fully realized hero into battle. That connection between painting and play is one of the most satisfying aspects of this hobby.
Another fascinating part of Elsa’s role in Marvel United: Multiverse is how she interacts with other heroes. Because the game emphasizes teamwork, every character’s abilities affect not only their own performance but also the rhythm of the entire team. Elsa, with her straightforward approach, often frees up other players to experiment. If one hero has a more complex setup—requiring time to build combos, generate resources, or move pieces into place—Elsa covers the immediate threats, buying space for those strategies to unfold. She becomes the steady hand that keeps the game from spiraling out of control.
That makes her particularly appealing in groups with mixed levels of experience. For new players, her mechanics are approachable without being dull. They can see immediate impact in their actions, cutting down minions and clearing threats in a way that feels satisfying. For veteran players, Elsa’s consistency is a safety net, allowing them to try riskier strategies without jeopardizing the group. She balances accessibility with depth, ensuring that everyone at the table feels engaged.
In some ways, painting her miniature mirrors that balance. The figure is not the most complex sculpt in the line—there are models with far more intricate details or sprawling poses—but it still presents challenges that push a painter to grow. The dragon beneath her feet requires one set of techniques, the coat another, and the hair yet another. It isn’t overwhelming, but it isn’t simplistic either. Like her gameplay, it rewards steady effort, attention to detail, and persistence.
The dragon base in particular feels symbolic. On one hand, it’s just a neat piece of scenery, a way to elevate the miniature and make it stand out on the table. On the other hand, it tells a story before a card is even played. Elsa doesn’t just fight monsters—she defeats them. Standing on a dragon’s corpse, she represents victory over the impossible. When you place her in front of a villain like Magneto, Loki, or Kang, that base is a quiet reminder: she has conquered worse. That sense of narrative elevates the gaming experience, transforming it from an abstract puzzle into something more cinematic.
Of course, not every session will make her shine equally. Elsa has moments where her straightforward nature feels almost too blunt, especially in scenarios that demand heavy mobility or puzzle-solving. In those games, other heroes might steal the spotlight with clever tricks or dramatic swings. But even then, Elsa’s presence is felt. She might not deliver the flashiest moments, but she is always the steady blade in the dark, the one who cuts through the noise and gets the job done.
That’s what makes her such an enduring character, both in comics and in this gaming adaptation. Elsa doesn’t need grand speeches or flamboyant displays. Her entire persona is built on results. She is the hunter who arrives when monsters rise, the fighter who doesn’t flinch in the face of the grotesque. On the board, she channels that energy perfectly. Every card played feels like a reminder of who she is and why she matters.
And for painters, that connection deepens even further. Sitting down with her miniature isn’t just about filling in colors. It’s about capturing that fierce spirit, making choices that reflect her no-nonsense approach. Do you push the highlights on her coat to make her stand out, or do you keep it more subdued to reflect her grit? Do you emphasize the dragon beneath her, or let it fade into the background as her silent trophy? Every decision tells a story, and when that story carries onto the tabletop, it transforms gameplay into something richer.
Looking back on my experience, I realize Elsa Bloodstone embodies something fundamental about miniature gaming. It isn’t just about rolling dice, drawing cards, or moving tokens. It’s about creating a shared narrative, one where characters feel alive and moments matter. Elsa’s miniature became that bridge for me—between the frustration of a failed paint job, the triumph of finishing a challenging figure, and the thrill of seeing her lead the charge in a chaotic session.
Painting a miniature is never just about adding color to plastic. It is an act of storytelling, a test of patience, and sometimes, a personal battle against frustration and self-doubt. Elsa Bloodstone’s miniature became one of those projects where every choice of brushstroke felt like a conversation between creativity and stubborn determination. She wasn’t just another hero to prepare for the game—she became a reminder of how miniature painting demands both technical skill and emotional resilience.
To understand why Elsa was such a rewarding challenge, it helps to look at the layers of difficulty she presented. On paper, she is a fairly straightforward sculpt: a human-sized figure with a long coat, flowing hair, and a scenic base featuring a fallen dragon. But in practice, that combination creates a puzzle. You’re dealing with multiple textures, overlapping surfaces, and competing focal points. Each element demands attention, but none of them can be allowed to overwhelm the others. Striking that balance is where the artistry lies.
Wrestling with Color Choices
One of the first decisions any painter makes is the palette. Do you follow the official artwork and lean into the comic book colors, or do you experiment with something new? For Elsa, the default palette is bold but grounded: red coat, blonde hair, muted leathers, and the muted greens of the dragon beneath her. It’s a striking combination, but it risks looking flat if applied without nuance.
The temptation to deviate is strong. Perhaps the coat could be darker, emphasizing grit over glamour. Maybe the dragon could shimmer with unnatural hues, reflecting a more fantastical take. In the end, I chose to stay fairly close to her traditional look but leaned heavily into contrast. Her coat became the central piece, painted with sharp highlights and layered shadows to draw the eye. The dragon, by contrast, was painted in cooler tones that receded slightly, so it wouldn’t overshadow her.
This is a decision that applies across miniature painting: knowing when to let one element take center stage and when to let others fade. A miniature cluttered with competing colors can feel chaotic, but one with a clear hierarchy of focus feels alive. Elsa taught me the importance of restraint, of holding back in some areas so others can shine.
The Struggles of Hair
If you’ve ever painted a figure with long hair, you know the challenge it presents. Elsa’s flowing locks cascade down her shoulders and back, demanding depth and volume. A flat yellow or blonde would never do—it would look plastic, lifeless. At the same time, going too dark risks muddying the figure and losing the brightness that defines her design.
The solution was patience. Layer after layer, shadow after highlight, I worked the strands into something that felt natural yet dramatic. Each stroke was about creating the illusion of movement, light catching here, shadow pooling there. It’s easy to rush this stage, to slap on a wash and call it done, but Elsa punished that approach. The hair had to be deliberate, demanding time and focus.
This is where the “curse” of painting hair comes in. I cannot seem to settle for shortcuts. Something inside me insists on depth, insists on pushing contrast further than I initially planned. Elsa’s hair consumed more hours than I care to admit, but in the end, it became one of the features I was proudest of. It was a reminder that sometimes our so-called weaknesses as painters—our obsessions, our compulsions—are what elevate a miniature.
Battling the Base
The dragon beneath Elsa’s boots might be the most challenging element of the entire miniature. Unlike a plain base or even a textured terrain piece, the dragon is essentially a second miniature integrated into the first. Scales, claws, and folds of reptilian flesh wind across the base, requiring techniques that differ wildly from those used on Elsa herself.
I experimented with Scale Prism paints here, using a pearlescent green that gave the scales a subtle shimmer. Was it necessary? Not at all. But it created a sense of otherworldliness, as if this dragon wasn’t just an ordinary beast but something magical and dangerous. The challenge was ensuring that shimmer didn’t overpower Elsa herself. Too much shine on the dragon, and she would disappear into the background. Too little, and the base would feel unfinished.
That balancing act became a metaphor for the entire project. The dragon had to matter, but only as a stage for Elsa. It had to feel defeated, subdued, yet still alive enough to be believable. This was not about painting two equal figures, but about painting one triumphant figure and her silent trophy.
Lessons from a Glossy Disaster
While painting Elsa, I was still reeling from my failed attempt with the Dhole miniature. That project had been derailed by a wash that dried with an unbearable gloss finish. What should have been a dark, moody shading turned into a shiny mess, like the figure had been dipped in wax. No amount of correction could save it, and I abandoned the model—a rare and disheartening decision.
That failure, however, shaped my work on Elsa. It reminded me of the unpredictability of materials, of how even trusted brands can deliver surprises. It taught me to test new paints on spare models before committing them to a centerpiece figure. And most of all, it fueled my determination not to let Elsa meet the same fate. Every brushstroke on her felt like a quiet rebellion against that gloss disaster, a declaration that this time, I would see it through.
Miniature painting is full of these moments. Every artist has stories of paints that didn’t behave, brushes that frayed at the worst moment, or models that refused to cooperate. The important part isn’t avoiding failure—it’s learning from it. Elsa became my reminder that one ruined miniature doesn’t define your skill. What matters is how you respond, how you carry those lessons into the next project.
Pride in the Result
When I finally stepped back from Elsa and saw her complete, I felt a sense of pride that outweighed the frustrations along the way. She looked fierce, bold, and ready for the tabletop. The coat caught the light in just the right way. The hair had depth and drama. The dragon lay convincingly defeated, without stealing her thunder.
Was she perfect? No. No miniature ever is. There were brushstrokes I wished were cleaner, transitions that could have been smoother. But perfection isn’t the point. The point is that she told the story I wanted her to tell. She looked like Elsa Bloodstone: monster hunter, survivor, warrior. That was enough.
The Broader Lessons of Elsa
Painting Elsa Bloodstone taught me several lessons that extend beyond one figure:
- Patience matters more than speed. Rushing through her hair or coat would have cheapened the final result. Taking time made all the difference.
- Contrast is key. Balancing her bold coat with a subdued dragon base created harmony instead of chaos.
- Failure feeds success. The disaster of the Dhole pushed me to be more cautious, more deliberate, and more determined.
- Miniatures tell stories. Elsa isn’t just a piece for a game. She’s a character, and every choice of paint and highlight added to her story.
Every miniature tells a story, and every story carries lessons. By the time I finished painting Elsa Bloodstone and fielding her in Marvel United: Multiverse sessions, I realized she had become more than just another hero in my collection. She had become a symbol of persistence, creativity, and balance—the qualities that miniature painting and gaming demand at their best. Looking back on the journey, I see Elsa as both a challenge and a companion, one that taught me new ways to see the hobby.
Strategy on the Tabletop
Let’s start with her role in the game. Elsa may not be the flashiest character in Marvel United: Multiverse, but her toolkit is deceptively strong. In a game where villains often fill the board with minions and threats, her efficiency at clearing space becomes invaluable. She doesn’t always need elaborate combos—her cards often provide straightforward attack and movement options that let her dive directly into danger.
The most rewarding part of playing her is learning restraint. It’s tempting to throw her into the thick of battle every time, but reckless placement can leave her isolated. Elsa thrives when she positions herself where she can contribute consistently without being overwhelmed. She teaches players the importance of controlled aggression: stepping into danger, but always with an escape route or backup plan.
She also creates space for teammates. Heroes with slower ramp-ups, or those dependent on specific card synergies, benefit from her ability to stabilize the board. She clears away the noise so they can set up their big moments. Playing with Elsa reminds you that not every contribution has to be flashy. Sometimes the quiet, consistent hero is the one who ensures the group succeeds.
From a broader perspective, this reflects something essential about cooperative gaming. Success isn’t about outshining your teammates—it’s about complementing them. Elsa embodies that principle. She doesn’t dominate every session, but she empowers others, making the whole team stronger.
The Painter’s Journey
On the painting side, Elsa Bloodstone offered a completely different lesson. Her sculpt challenged me in ways I hadn’t anticipated. The dragon base demanded texture control, her hair required patience, and her coat forced me to experiment with new highlighting techniques. She was a miniature that punished shortcuts and rewarded persistence.
But beyond the technical side, she taught me about recovering from failure. After the glossy disaster with the Dhole, I needed a win. Elsa became that win, not because she turned out flawless, but because she reminded me that setbacks don’t define us. Every painter has abandoned a miniature at some point. What matters is how you come back to the table afterward.
There’s also a joy in pushing yourself creatively. Elsa gave me an excuse to use paints I rarely touch, to experiment with pearl effects and bold oranges, to try mimicking a highlight technique I’d admired in someone else’s work. Even when the results weren’t perfect, the act of trying expanded my skills. That’s one of the great secrets of miniature painting—you improve most when you step outside your comfort zone.
The Intersection of Play and Paint
What makes miniatures unique in the world of gaming is that they exist at the crossroads of art and play. Elsa Bloodstone embodies that perfectly. On the one hand, she is a functional game piece, with stats and abilities that shape how sessions unfold. On the other, she is a canvas for creativity, a sculpt that begs for paint and personalization.
The act of painting her deepened my connection to playing her. When I moved her across the board during a game, I wasn’t just sliding a token. I was guiding a hero I had labored over, one whose colors I had chosen, whose highlights I had shaped. That bond changes the way you experience the game. Victories feel more personal, defeats sting more deeply, and every moment carries more weight.
This isn’t just true for Elsa—it’s true for all miniatures. But her journey emphasized it more strongly because of the contrast between the failure of the Dhole and the triumph of finishing her. She became a reminder of why I paint in the first place. Not just to make figures look nice, but to make the games I play feel alive.
Broader Reflections on the Hobby
Spending so much time with Elsa’s miniature also led me to think more broadly about miniature painting as a hobby. At its core, it’s an exercise in patience and storytelling. You take something small, uncolored, and lifeless, and through countless strokes of paint, you bring it to life. That process mirrors the very essence of creativity: turning potential into reality, chaos into coherence.
But it’s also a hobby of acceptance. You learn to accept that not every figure will turn out perfectly, that paints will sometimes misbehave, that brushes will betray you at the worst possible moment. You learn to accept that some models will sit unfinished, gathering dust, while others spring to life effortlessly. Elsa was my reminder that the journey is just as important as the destination.
And then there’s the social side. Sharing painted miniatures with others—whether at the table or online—creates a sense of community. People comment, give feedback, swap stories about paints and techniques. That dialogue keeps the hobby alive and growing. Elsa’s miniature sparked conversations not just about her as a character, but about techniques, challenges, and the frustrations of dealing with glossy washes. Those conversations reminded me that miniature painting is never truly solitary, even when done alone at a desk.
Elsa as a Symbol
Elsa Bloodstone herself, as a character, is fitting for these lessons. She is defined by resilience, toughness, and a refusal to back down in the face of monsters. Painting her, playing her, and reflecting on her all carried that same spirit. She became more than just a figure—I saw her as a metaphor for persistence in the hobby itself.
When paints didn’t behave, Elsa reminded me to push forward. When gameplay got messy, Elsa reminded me to clear space and keep the team steady. When I felt frustrated or burned out, Elsa reminded me that the next miniature, the next session, the next brushstroke could bring everything back into balance.
That’s what makes this hobby so powerful. It isn’t just about the end results, whether that’s a perfectly painted figure or a victorious game. It’s about the mindset it cultivates: patience, resilience, creativity, and collaboration. Elsa Bloodstone embodies all of those qualities, making her more than just another addition to Marvel United: Multiverse.
Final Thoughts
Elsa Bloodstone may not be the most famous Marvel character, but in the world of miniature gaming, she leaves a lasting impression. From her striking sculpt standing atop a slain dragon to her balanced, straightforward gameplay in Marvel United: Multiverse, she captures both the artistry and strategy that make this hobby so engaging.
Painting her miniature tested patience, highlighted the importance of persistence, and rewarded experimentation. Playing her on the table reinforced the value of consistency, controlled aggression, and teamwork. Together, those experiences showed how painting and gaming feed into each other—each brushstroke making the character feel more alive, each session deepening the connection to the figure you’ve brought to life.
Elsa ultimately represents what miniature gaming is all about: resilience, creativity, and storytelling. She’s not just another hero in the box but a reminder that every model offers both a challenge and an opportunity. Whether you’re picking up a brush or shuffling a deck, she teaches that patience pays off, teamwork matters, and even the most overlooked characters can become the heart of your hobby journey.