When Michael returns to Earth, not only has Jimmy stolen his car, but Michael is also half his normal size.
Sampling their purchase together, the mandatory 'trip sequence' ensues, with Michael flying in his underwear over a rainbow-coloured Los Santos. "Eat my ass!" growls a woman as Michael assumes the plank, his calming exercises now accompanied by the sound of distant explosions.Īfter the world's least relaxing yoga session, Michael accompanies his son Jimmy to buy drugs. "Why don't you blow me?" spits a scarfed ginger fellow as Michael attempts the 'Dancer'. "You fucking shit!" a man yells as Michael's struggles with the 'Warrior II' pose. I'm not entirely sure what it does, but the result is that both Amanda and Fabien run off, while a bunch of random NPCs wander into Michael's back yard and begin hurling profanities at him. Luckily, the Chaos Mod comes to the rescue. But no, Michael failing at yoga also fails the mission, because GTA 5 is so obsessed with its own narrative grandeur it leaves no room for player agency. It would be entirely in-character for Michael to be rubbish at yoga because he's an overweight late-40s layabout. The yoga mission is one of the worst examples of GTA 5's restrictive attitude toward progression. But a confrontation with his wife leads him into an impromptu yoga session with Amanda and her guru Fabien. Returning home, Michael treats himself to some well-earned TV time.
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